From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
He will come to read it in her face, she’s sure of it. They have nothing but time now. Time not just for Halo or themselves as people, but for each other. Moments like these stand in testament to that very fact. As his hands clean the rest of her body and her own do the same for him, Evie takes a moment to appreciate that the water remains hot by virtue of his magic and well-crafted Halovian tubs. Sometimes the small things are what remind her of the hood that still lingers in her life - Deimos first and foremost. His chuckle only drives home that fact, making her own stomach swoop with intense fondness she still resists calling love. They have time after all. Funny how everything comes back to that.
Letting the topic of Cordelia fade, Evie hides her smile in his palm at seeing his head droop. It’s a momentary weakness shrouded by the intensity of his eyes as he asks his question, but she doesn’t miss it. “Right here,” she whispers, and leans in to kiss him gently. Lingering plainly and only continuing when she has had her fill and pulled back just enough to speak again. “Getting out of this tub, getting us both into bed, having Zuriel heal what she can before we sleep. And then we decide on any other repairs when we wake back up.” The rest of the world can wait for a moment while they patch their own holes.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The slow press of time, rather than the fast, swift maneuvers of impending dread, apprehension, doom, and damnation swarming over their shoulders, seemed almost foreign and unfamiliar. It’d been a long while since any of them had those sweeping moments just to themselves, where minutes lingered and signified more than the eternal tides or the frigid winds. Several of them had taught him that – Evie included, enveloping over his tired, fatigued soul in gentleness and other things, figments, emotions, he wouldn’t name. “Okay,” he whispered in return once their mouths had parted, because no more would be done that evening – save for taking what they could and leaving the rest of the salvaging for the morning.
He rose upwards, leaving a trail of droplets over his form, resuming the prior stance, hands grasping hers to take her with him. Bodies rinsed and drain pulled, he found towels nearby and snagged one for each of them, though he took extra effort to snag hers deliberately over her head, around her shoulders, over wet skin. Were they not exhausted he probably would’ve inveigled more mischief, but instead it was a gentle ease – the bemused and labored smile tucked along dimples.
And then lifting her out of the tub, placing her back down on the floor, ignoring the ache in his shoulders. “You will stay?” Like they had before, shared expanses, alternating shelters and sanctuaries.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
His hands pull her from the warm depths of the water, and though it’s undeniably colder with her skin wet and bare, she knows what awaits will be worth the chill and the venture through the house. Thick furs and blankets, a pillow that she has come to consider her own after nights shared warding away her nightmares, even a small collection of her clothes left for that same reason. Comfortable, familiar things.
She’s startled from her pondering by the towel over her head, which muffles the small laugh its presence inspires. Ruffling it over her hair briefly while it’s there, Evie then lets it fall over her shoulders to soak the water that trails from her long hair down the center of her spine, freeing her vision. It’s the only reason she doesn’t startle a second time as Deimos lifts her from the bath like a wet kitten, depositing her safely on the mat beside him. Charmed as ever by both his ability and inclination to haul her around so easily, Evie only gently swats his hip with a pointed look at his shoulder.
That too falls away, and she lays her hand in the crook of his elbow, thumb tracing the pulse she can feel beneath the thin skin as she gazes up at him. “For as long as you’ll have me,” Evie vows, and pulls gently on Deimos’ arm to guide them towards the bedroom.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Unbothered by the soused depictions, he drew his own towel around his hips and followed along, the contentment and ease of her answer enough to keep him beelining for other sanctions and refuges. He snorted as he spied the other clothing they’d parted with on their way towards the tub some time before, picking up the collection as he meandered through – comfortable in the wake of what they’d created. Through all the hardships and strife and war, they were still here, and that was enough for the instant. While living in the present hadn’t always been effortless, these pinpointed segments were, and he’d snag them for all they were worth.
Wet hair clinging to the back of his neck and indifferent to its cause, the Sword strolled through the shared confines, assured by the familiar wakes, beelining for bureaus. Snagging at boxers and sweatpants and not much else, he eventually took the towel off, playfully tempting to wind it at her but only half-heartedly, more of a playful threat than anything else. Maneuvering closer as a tease and taunt, his mouth moved, ghosted, over her cheek. “I am going to find Zuriel,” who was probably lurking out back or in another room, waiting with her pride intact; stomach growling to follow. “And maybe a snack.” A pause, while he drifted off along the doorway, contemplating things, furrowing his brow, a change in aspects. "Then...do you want to hear what happened?"
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
He's not the only one amused to see the trail of discarded clothes, armor, and boots on the floor as they emerge from the bathroom. She uses a touch of magic to tug a few of the items into her own arms, though the general exhaustion keeps her from being too flagrant with it; or playful, as the mischievous parts of her crow ideas that her body can't successfully accomplish. Perhaps a different day she will be able to adorn Deimos' ears with socks.
It's far more tempting an idea as he winds the towel at her, and she narrows her eyes at him, nose crinkling in habitual betrayal of amusement. It crinkles further as her cheeks rise in a smile, dimples deepening as he kisses her cheek. She cheekily snags the towel from his hands as he does, though she only intends to put it in the laundry basket by the wayside. "Bring enough snacks for the both of us, we're not leaving this bed once we're in it." Though the offer of conversation does inspire a degree more of seriousness, she reminds herself that they had won, and Deimos is alive; whatever ensues, the knowledge cannot hurt what she already has. "Only if you wish. I expect you to sleep soon after, though. Doctor's orders."
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The snort at insinuations and innuendos echoed along as he left the doorway, a momentary motion as he sought Zuriel. The unicorn was in her usual perch at the hearth, curled up, head only raised when he approached with dinner in hand and apologies across their bond. Belial was there in a flurry too, and between notions of regrets, heartaches, and confusion, the mare healed his notched wounds, leaving only the circuits of scars in their place. With further promises he intended to keep, he left both to reside before the roaring, stoked fire, winding his way through the kitchen, snagging at anything within reach.
His return to the bedroom came with a large plate of crackers, cheese, and grapes, before sitting on the bed, placing the array in between them. The Sword was half-inclined to fall back against the pillows and forget the whole thing – but the rumble in his stomach, and a willing ear conjured some manner of persistence. Perhaps he thought the more he expressed outwardly, the less of the horrors would come to visit him in dreams. Maybe it was better to not internalize the trauma. Fingers prying apart a few grapes and popping them into his mouth, a long breath uncoiled from his chest – and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do the story justice, began composing renditions with enchantments too – permitting the images to slide gracefully and poignantly along droplets of water.
“The dragons came first,” and though some of it could likely be left up to imagination, the cascades drew themselves into the lizards and pockets of rain – descending, flying, hovering, embarking, fangs honed and sharpened. “We never saw the Ascended.” He could only guess haphazardly about what had become of them – as the images changed, shifted, from person to person amidst their warrior band.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
She gives him and his companions the privacy and time they need. Though she can’t understand their bond as someone removed wholly from attachments of the soul, she knows how precious it is, and spends her time dressing and turning back the sheets and blankets while she awaits his return. When she hears his entrance she turns, and a small laugh huffs between her lips at the sight of the varied snacks and treats piled on the plate. Amused or not, she’s keen to get her hands on it because he always chooses well.
They sit, which is safer than lounging given their shared exhaustion, though Evie slips her feet beneath the half-pulled comforter so they don’t grow cold. While he pilfers some grapes, her own fingers seek out the cheese both greedily and blindly, gaze reserved for her lover’s face.
It slides away reluctantly to the detailed water show he orchestrates masterfully. The idea of dragons - huge, lumbering dragons, not the smaller ones she’d always known before Halo - makes her cold to her core. That they hadn’t encountered the Ascended seems strange, anticlimactic even. “But your wound…?” Evie’s eyes drop skirtingly to the circuitry in his chest, wondering who put it there if the Ascended had not.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The water show dimmed for a moment – dragons slain and another pattern of movement and motion as the images wound their way along mountaintops. While they traversed, his eyes went to the other mark upon his arm, where serrated fangs had cut cleanly, healed soon after. “Dragon got me here,” and he pointed through the wayward tracks, and then shrugged his shoulders, the ache gone, with the blemishes remaining.
As for the segment containing the most mark and abomination, he offered a long sigh, the explanation seeming intangible and almost otherworldly – altering the stance of the depictions quickly, as all the forms breathed new life in flickering bouts and strains. His jaw jutted towards the lacerations instead, striving to offer some form of response that would seem feasible and comprehensive. “This one came from the Core’s demigod. We fought prior demis and warriors too. That came before us, who held the relics in the previous war.” Battles waged and magic flashed and echoing throngs of screams and outcries; a bludgeoned Remi, the Sword’s own form blasted back, pictures and figments of memories of slain constituents muddled together amidst storms and tirades. Snagging at another grape, eyelids growing heavy again, the piercing slate of his gaze traveled back to her, waiting.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
It's hard to tear her eyes away from the teardrop dragons and their flight through the bedroom, but the mention of damage is inspiration enough. The imperfections in his skin that mark the dragon's teeth are a far cry from the gore she knows such an attack would have left in the moment, but the sight of the slight discolorations alone makes her stomach swoop painfully. Gentle fingers trace the outline silently, grateful yet again for his safety.
It's hard to turn back to the show he puts on after that, irony of ironies. What does the story matter now when he is here, whole and hale and in arms reach? But he asks it of her, and she will not deny him. No matter how inconceivable the idea of the Core's demigod's mere existence being, or previous demigods held eternal on the mountain. Something that makes her brow draw tight with worry. "Why were they still up there? That won't happen to the demigods now will it?" And it makes her all the more grateful that Deimos had not chosen such a path for himself, removing the risk for now. Her worry makes her stomach a little sour, but she stubbornly chooses another cube of cheese to worry between her teeth.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
He permitted her exploration of the subtler scars, lost in the waves of thought and processing the notion of their perilous adventures. There hadn’t been moments to ask why something had occurred – the images had flashes, the bodies had been tangible, the weight of existence between races had been across their shoulders, and they labored on. His head tilted vaguely at first, machinations, though tired and exhausted too, beginning their phase of wondering. “They may have been ghosts or figments recreated by the Core. It was lodged within Caido.” A means of ensuring no one would get any further, stopping them in their tracks. And maybe for some, that would’ve been it.
The mental resemblance coiled back into his modest, watery show, droplets reforming into Caido, into the Core, into the bizarre circumstances to follow. “I do not think so.” Based only on his other presumptions. “The Core is gone. It tried to halt us again with…some sort of nightmare.” He only had his – and wouldn’t be showing that to her. No one else needed to see the visions of red, the blame holstered, the guilt transcended down the length of his spine. It hadn’t been real.
Though, there was slight curl to a sudden, boyish smile. “Heard you in the middle of it. And Noah too.” And that’s how they’d known it wasn’t true, was only one more obstacle in their way. Brushing his fingertips lightly over one of her cheeks, the juvenile aspects of his grin remained, held fast in their convictions, in gratitude, though he was certain it wouldn't be enough. “Thank you.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
The existence of Caido alone is a thought of such magnitude she can scarcely grasp it, so her worries subside to quiet murmurs at his assumptions, his logic. He had been the one atop the mountain in the midst of it all, he is the one best equipped to make deductions about the nature of the old demigods and their warped personalities. She watches the water droplets play out the encounter with Caido, the Core - but as he mentions a nightmare her eyes turn away again, concern already beginning to create a shadow between her brows. But he is not forthcoming, and she will not force him to be. She had begun sleeping in his bed entirely because of her own nightmares and the weight they had begun to layer onto her shoulders, and he has always understood when she could not put them to words upon waking. Evie will ensure he is awarded the same courtesy.
Surprise splashes across her face in a wave of pink cheeks and widening eyes as her own role in the moment becomes clear. She remembers how - coated in ichor and her own blood, winded and triumphant - the only instinct she'd had in that moment was to reach for the cuff in her ear, and to traverse time and space to reach him, to inspire him with the smallest bit of hope and love she could. Her smile forms slowly in response to his as she leans into his hand, lifting one to caress his knuckles from the other side. "You're welcome," she murmurs, and rejoices in the smiles they are able to share. "Who would've thought the tiniest of our magical items would have been so pivotal?" Perhaps they'd have to make more fun, seemingly less useful items in the coming months. She lingers in the radiance of his boyish smile, waiting for him to continue when he is ready instead of prompting it herself.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
His creation wouldn’t do the scene justice, but he tried nonetheless, the images shifting once more in their proximity. A distraction and deterrent, maybe, from her furrowed brows – nightmares not to be shared, a burden he wouldn’t want reflected in anyone else’s mind. Perhaps it too would fade, or rise again, in the midst of all those terrors and horrors, lodged within like nooses and cycles, dragged amidst the dirges and requiems. But not now.
Instead, the droplets altered into more of the tale – warping as the Lullaby’s hand plucked and scarred, the deep rumble of his vocals providing brief narration. “Remi took the Core out of Caido.” And that was it - a finale, with the ending not yet in sight. “And then we all went home.” No triumphant bells, no ringing of victory, no hollowed-out contortions – because most of them had to fight the onslaughts to return, had to wonder how great the losses were, how many still managed to survive, how many perished under the footfalls of other casualties –
His hand cupped her cheek again, immense gratitude all the more because they’d lived and they’d see other days. Fingers slid along a rosy cheek until mischief drove him to pinch a corner of it, a tired laugh following, callouses and palm dropping to snag another cracker. “They all count, in some way.” Head tilting, the manner of their prior preparations loomed, and the Sword hoped some of them had proved beneficial. “Did you have to use the snowflakes?” Lodged within the watchtower, connected to the barracks, maybe they could only prove to be marginally advantageous.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
It does no justice to Deimos, who had witnessed and lived every moment, but to Evie it is still imposing and breathtaking. She watches Remi's hand thrust itself into Caido's chest, and wonders at how it did not obliterate the man's entire arm. And then -
It's over.
It's an anticlimactic ending, and she's left staring at the idly spinning but otherwise unmoving droplets of water. Had that really been the end? What had happened to the Core? Was Caido its lifeforce, and the removal alone had destroyed it?
Deimos' hand on her cheek brings her back, and she decides in that moment that it doesn't matter. The demigods believed it to be done, and so she will trust them. There is no cohesive leader of the Grounds as a whole aside from the demigods, and it was more of a general respect for their status as chosen ones of heralds and gods they are devoted to. "No, there was no time. It was just Talyson and I, after the banshees made it over the wall. I didn't even know who else to call - Hotaru and Sah were fighting the dragons in the city already." Every hand had been busy by then, who would have even answered the call? But she knows they will be useful someday, she is sure of it.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
With that, the watery images dissipated entirely, back into the recesses of his veins, in the pools of incantations readily available, even in the midst of exhaustion. His head tilted, drooped slightly again, as thoughts swarmed to the snowflakes providing no benefit – a slight wrinkle to his nose as his mind began contemplating more machinations, more ways –
But no. They didn’t need to do that now.
With a long breath, he finally drifted back, ignoring the plate of food for the call of fatigue warring its way back into his senses. The moment his head hit the pillow was a dead giveaway for the hastening of exhaustion, but his hands reached for her just the same, an encouragement to join. “Another time then,” came on a muffled, wearied, drowsy rumble, exuding somewhere from his chest.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
