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!
The tide receded and with it the storm that had shaken the world. The Underwater City had come through the cataclysm far better than Haulani had fared: no Kingmaker had rampaged through its outskirts and no pieces of it had inexplicably torn loose and tried to float away.
Hadama spent much of his time directing the repair squads to shore up those buildings which had become unstable, however, and seeing to the care for those of his people who had been wounded.
Then, too, there was the delivery of the somber news to the families of those volunteers who had died in the rescue operation in Haulani. That duty of kingship was one he had never wanted to perform, and after the last had been informed the King of the Mer had swum slowly back towards the Palace which was technically his home now.
But it did not feel like home. Not yet. And for once he couldn't sleep; his calm center was troubled by the death and destruction that had been wrought on all of Torchline.
It was to Haulani he went then, and though it was night time the moon was bright overhead, casting silver light over the waters that were awash in floating debris from the town. He swam slowly through the canals - what remained of them - taking note of where repairs would be needed, and where they were now impossible.
Sometimes he looked over his shoulder, back out to sea and up to the islands that floated so far out of reach now. He had paused at an intersection in the canals to do just that, contemplating the sight of the shadowy behemoths looming in the sky and blotting out the stars, his steely head glimmering in the moonlight like a beacon to those who knew him. Harper
Without Maeve, Harper and Ray have to do most of the coordinating for Torchline’s repair efforts. While neither of them mind, it’s hard for Harper to see all that transpired inland while he, Jack, and Melita had been fighting the Kingmaker. Although he’d been needed there, he can’t help but regret his inability to have been in both places somehow.
With Edmund and Jude in the refuge, Harper pours all of his energy and time into coordinating Torchline’s aftermath. He barely sleeps, but honestly he’s used to that. Though it has been years, a vigilante lifestyle never really leaves you once you’ve lived it.
As he toils he straightens and wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and only then does he spot Hadama in the glow of moonlight across the canals. Relieved to see the man alive, he scarcely notices how he abandoned his task to hurry towards the merman, jog agile but undeniably rushed. “Hadama!” he calls, eating up the ground between them. “I’m so glad to see you. I feared the worst when I didn’t find you the first few days. Are you okay?” A concerned frown overtakes his face, habitually examining what he can see of the merman from above the water.
Though Torchline never truly slept, this night was quieter than most. There were too many wounds to bind and lost souls to mourn; too much damage to buildings and flesh to fall back on the more usual moonlit pasttimes of drinking, revelry, theft, and smuggling. Harper's voice was a quiet clarion on the night breeze, and the mermanta turned to watch the human man approaching with solemn, weary eyes that yet held their core of quiet strength.
He inclined his head as the councilman came close and then swam to the edge of the cracked canal to join him. The human's concern was touching and he gave the question due consideration before nodding again, gravely. "I will heal," he rumbled. His back and shoulder had been wrapped in dark bandages, visible more for how they obscured his golden tattoos than how they faded into the darkness of his skin.
Inside, too, there were wounds, but he had given his all to protecting mer and humans alike, and he held himself with a quiet dignity and acceptance of those who had been beyond his power to save. He would light lanterns for them when the time came, but the present was for the living and he looked Harper over with the same concern the human had given him. "I have been tending to the City. The damage there is less, but we were not unscathed." An easier admission than it once might have been to an airbreather. What point, secrets, when the world had been shaken, broken, and set back awry?
Harper cannot begrudge Hadama the weariness in his gaze; surely his own is full of it, a shade they all seem to wear regardless of garb these days. As they near one another, Harper's gaze sweeps over the King's bared flesh in search of injuries long before the merman's response. It's the most optimism any of them can hope for - to be alive to heal. He cannot see beyond the bandages to the wounds beneath, but he will trust Hadama's word. "If I can fetch any of the Fountain's waters for you to make it happen faster, for you or any of your kingdom, please let me know." The Fountain has been a pivotal player in the aftermath of the devastation, and though it has been difficult to keep it from being overrun by desperate civilians, he would rather the chaos than the lack of healing power.
"I'm glad to hear the damage was minimal; the Kingmaker barely made it to shore as well, so despite the rest - there is plenty to be grateful for." And Harper endlessly tries to be a man of optimism, a force for good and hope for a better future. "I was relatively unscathed. Some bruising, but nothing worse. The defenses we created were our saving grace." And, if he has any say, they will pursue even more in the future.
They would all be weary for some time yet to come, those stubborn souls who had taken on the governance of Torchline's free-spirited people. None of them were inclined to rest while there were homes and businesses to be rebuilt and citizens without roofs or walls to shelter under.
The mention of the Fountain almost brought a twitch of a smile to the King's lips; a sure sign of his exhaustion, to nearly let himself slip. He only shook his head, but there was quiet gratitude in his eyes when he looked back to meet Harper's gaze. "The tunnel we dug beneath the Court did not collapse," he assured the earnest councilman. Indeed, the structure had been reinforced and received the goddess's personal blessing upon its completion. "The Mer can reach the fountain, still. But thank you." There was no good reason that he hadn't taken advantage of the magical healing aside from the distraction of too many other, more important things and not enough time to waste on injuries that weren't life-threatening.
He listened to Harper's optimism and gratitude with appreciation for the man's resilience. Nodding in agreement to the mention of defenses, Hadama considered the Stargate thoughtfully. "I did not expect it to be defensive," he said slowly. "At the meeting, the majority voted in favor of it being a weapon rather than a shield. But it is good that it helped." Perhaps the Kingmaker could have been halted even further away from the city if the guardian they had discussed as a group had struck the beast a telling blow. But there was no changing the tide that had already come in, and he now knew the convenience of being able to make unilateral decisions to cut through the endless red tape of committees.
What was good for the angelfish was good for the devilray, as the saying went.
And speaking of the Queen... "Has there been word from Maeve?"
Relief crosses Harper’s open, expressive face at the knowledge the tunnel still stands. Though he laughs softly, a little self-deprecatingly, at the man’s ensuing comment. “Ah, I’m guilty of that myself. We both seem the type to take on responsibility while forgoing self-care.” And while he wouldn’t have it any other way for himself, as someone who cares far too much for others, he hypocritically wishes Hadama would care more for himself.
“I wasn’t sure exactly what would come about once I activated it, honestly; I also thought it was meant to be offensive.” Such were the woes of OOC decisions. “I think that things in general could have been much worse though, and I want to focus on more well-rounded options moving forward to prevent this from happening again.” Multiple options, at that. Offensive, defensive, reparative…Harper would like to see multitudes of each avenue. Anything to keep this level of destruction from cursing them a second time.
At the mention of Maeve, Harper’s expression closes off a little, aside from clear concern. “She is home, though she hasn’t been for long. Injured, but alive. A miracle really, given where the war was waged.” Not to mention all they’d done, the power of all the compatriots she’d marched with.
Considering Harper's words and finding them entirely too true, the mermanta took several long moments to turn several options over in his head before nodding slowly to himself. "Swim with me," Hadama invited, moving a little ways down the damaged canal towards where the Court still stood in the distance - though Harper would likely be walking, not swimming. "And we can help each other." If they would not help themselves this seemed to be the next best thing, was it not?
As he so often did, Hadama listened and nodded slowly in acknowledgment of his companion's experience and ideas.
"Agreed," he rumbled firmly. "And now there is reason to find a way to communicate between the Sea and your Court." When before the eve of War there had not truly been one. "It is time, perhaps, that my people had more contact with the land..." A difficult break from tradition, and one that didn't come easily even to one who had spent the past year dallying with the airbreathers as often as his own kind.
At the mention that Maeve was home and healing he nodded in quiet relief. "Please give her my thanks. And tell her: the sea heals many wounds. I will meet her there when she is ready to come down to it."
Harper doesn't think twice at the invitation; he is a very strong swimmer, after all. Though as he looks down the mentioned pathway, he doesn't find himself upset at the idea of walking beside Hadama either. Physicality often gets him out of his head, and it always has, so the offer is appreciated. "I'd love to," is almost a sigh of a relief as he turns to begin keeping pace with Hadama in the canal.
"Change can be difficult," he concedes, clearly understanding the difficulties of tradition, though his own experience came from years spent in a far different world. "It will be worthwhile to try and find a way to bridge the gap without forcing too much change on either side. A little creativity will be necessary, sure, but I'm sure enough heads put together can achieve that." Despite all that has happened and all the wreckage around them, Harper's smile is still as radiant as ever, hopeful and optimistic.
"I will make sure to tell her. I hope to get her out here as soon as she feels ready; often, wounds of the mind take longer to heal, and I don't want her to stay locked away with memories." He's careful not to speak too blatantly or reveal any secrets, but mental health was so often forgotten in the triage that came after war. Harper would not make that mistake with his beloved or any of his friends.
Hadama needed no further excuse and he turned towards the Court, beginning their journey. He wasn't a fast swimmer by the estimation of most younger, sleeker Mer with shark or dolphin shifts, but he was a strong one, and even though he moderated his pace to suit his companion Harper would still need to stretch his legs to keep up.
Harper's understanding of what the mermanta so often left unsaid made conversing with the human easy. The mermanta nodded in thoughtful agreement to the other man's words as he slid through the starlit waters of the canal with minimal effort, a dark and graceful shape in the night. "Indeed." The gap had already begun to narrow before this, but how to hasten the process without damaging something irreparably on either side along the way...?
That was where the creativity would need to come in.
But Hadama held to the same optimism as Harper. If it could be done, he was determined that they would find the way.
His worry for Maeve could have been only a pale shadow of her mate's concerns, and the freshly-crowned King nodded again in acceptance of Harper's promise and intentions. "And your own?" A quiet question, simple and to the point in the mermanta's frank way.
The need for a longer stride is strangely appreciated. Harper's intense training regime is far from a secret in Torchline; with his history, he has never been able to relinquish it, no matter the drastically more peaceful land he now finds himself in. In an old world perhaps he would have been called a gym rat or some other teasing moniker, but here his pre-morning runs and acrobatics are seen as normal after such a long residency in Torchline.
The quiet of Hadama's question is fitting not only of the man himself, but the twilight that surrounds them. Harper smiles wryly, and shrugs one shoulder a little helplessly. "I've seen far worse wars, I'm afraid. Lost far more in them, too." Students, friends, mentors. His first true love. "I don't want to diminish it by saying it pales in comparison, but it's not a weight I'm unfamiliar with." And he will carry it with a smile regardless. "You? If you ever need to share anything, I hope you know you can tell me." The length of their friendship would not have any bearing on Harper's willingness to be at the merman's side, just as he'd been night after night for the man's quest.
He listened as he swam, learning more of the man who served on Torchline's council, stood beside its Queen, and defended it from War. An Outlander, and one with an unexpectedly tragic past behind his bright, hopeful smile.
"Mm." Hadama's wordless answer acknowledged Harper's words and his question while he considered how to answer. He swam steadily for a ways further down the canal before he spoke again.
"I am sorry for your losses," he said at last, voice low. "We do not war beneath the water in the way of humans. The sea is too large, and our numbers are too few." Individuals fought, certainly; there were violent individuals, even bands of robbers and marauders, no different than among humans. But there was only one City beneath the waves, and it had long held itself in peace apart from the squabbles of the land.
This had been his first - and hopefully only - War. Even so... "I... regret the lives we could not save. But I did all that I could. That, I do not regret." A pragmatic man, was Hadama. He wasn't ashamed of his actions during the War, and he didn't hold himself to an impossible standard. He knew his abilities as well as his limits, and it wasn't his way to punish himself for failing to do the impossible. "Your own actions saved many." The Kingmaker would have wreaked terrible havoc if it had gotten into Haulani.
The silence doesn't bother Harper as they walk. There is much to think about, even beyond this conversation, and despite the gravity of the topic he is still having a pleasant time. He certainly won't be the one to rush things. Though he is intrigued by what Hadama says when he does speak, it's easy enough to envision the inherent peace curated due to the vastness of the ocean and the relative size of a singular man, half-manta or otherwise. War seems precocious and futile with so much space to keep warring parties apart. "It makes sense why you don't. Though I envy you a little for it. Men have done many horrible things in the pursuit of peace." Many without thinking twice about the monsters it would make of them. Harper always prays he will not be the same.
Pragmatism is something Harper can understand, though he is a far more emotional man, one who carries his losses marked off on the insides of his ribs. "A good mindset to have. We often make the mistake of thinking 'I could have done more' but in reality, unless our fear or cowardice inspired us to make a conscious choice to not do something, it's rarely the case." Even if mistakes were made in the heat of the moment, intent was what mattered. Cheeks flushing a little at the praise, Harper smiles wryly. "Melita did most of the work, but between the three of us, we knew we couldn't afford to let it get to shore. Though - I'll admit, I did feel a little guilty killing it. It was a danger, but it was a magnificent creature." He had been similarly eyed strangely for saving the giant chicken in Haulani instead of killing it, but Harper will never regret trying to preserve their lives.
Merfolk were not, sadly, immune to the contrivance of horrors against their own kind but Hadama saw no reason to darken the conversation by disillusioning Harper of his rosier outlook on the Mer. That would happen soon enough. After generations of keeping themselves 'out of sight, out of mind' it was past time to remind the humans of the people who lived beneath the sea.
And all the good and bad that they came with.
Though it wasn't easy to see in the dark and with their different modes of movement, Hadama tilted his head in acknowledgment of the human's agreement. They had each done what they could at the time, given where they were at and the tools at their disposal. He was unsurprised to hear that Melita had done much of the damage, a flicker of fond amusement warming his eyes.
"Yes. I would have liked to have seen it. In different circumstances." Ones where it wasn't threatening anyone, preferably. Now, however, it would never happen. But he would rather have the lives of his people and those of his friends.
As they reached the Court of Stars Hadama nodded towards the tunnel that served the Merfolk. "I will see you at the Fountain." The water glowed with starlight and the life that had been transplanted there at its creation, bright even on the darkest of nights, and when the King surfaced beside the Fountain it was under the firelight of the guiding torches that burned above the well's exit beside the Fountain.
A soft hum complements Hadama's words in clear agreement. Terrifying as the beast had been in motion, it had only been a sad sight once it was dead. But Harper is Safrin's man through and through - Rae's creations mattered little in comparison to preserving the lives of the citizens of Torchline.
"See you there," he agrees amicably as they part, and begins the journey on foot towards the fountain. It gleams in both the moonlight and the glow of the torches, the soft burble of running water a calming sound as he approaches. It is free of any other guests, which isn't surprising given the time of night. Joining Hadama once more, Harper dips a hand into the well of water for a brief moment, letting its magic work at his over-tired muscles and any strains he hasn't allowed himself to linger on. "I suspect we've both done far too much today. It's nice to just talk for a while," he admits freely as he sits on the ledge of the fountain. "I find myself short on friends these days, or time to spend with them." Now, with the war over, perhaps that would change.
