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!
Isla notices the fresh wrinkle in his shirt, and were this any other time she might have smirked at the careless disregard for her fussing. But here and now, under the battering rain and a leathery wing for shelter, she does little more than let it be. She does reach up, however, to gently grip his jaw, giving it a playful squish between her fingers as if to remind him to please not crack his teeth.
As it happens, though, there's a black secret broiling in the Flood that's about to surface, though as he begins, it sounds so innocuous. "Listen, someone had to be confident and optimistic," she tells him gently. "We were confident too, against the dragons. Everything started out so well, and we just--"
But he's still going, and as the dark truth of it comes out, while her eyebrows raise, Isla is hardly in a place to judge. But that's the worst part, right? Maybe Sunjata wants to be judged. "Phoebe. Didn't you...?" Something something marriage something miscarriage something? Forgive her, Isla had been dead at the time.
She doesn't try to make him look at her, shifting instead to her knees so she can gather him against her chest this time, not caring if the change in position knocks his wing out of the way. A downpour is nothing compared to what they've lived through. "I know he's not around to say it," she whispers. "But I forgive you. Just because things weren't bad in the Refuge, it doesn't mean they were easy."
But it was optimism and confidence that lead to so much heartbeat – if he’d just prepared for the worst, perhaps the days leading up he could have distracted Nate away from his duties, could have begged the Voice once again, done so many things differently. But hindsight is always 20/20, right? So he continues, that trajectory of his speech not faltering as he gets to that inky secret that’s the cause for so much of his frustration and inner turmoil.
“Yeah.” He pauses, speaking so he doesn’t work his jaw. “She’s my ex-wife. We almost had a kid together.” He explains softly, regretfully, before she’s shifting and pulling him in against her chest, his wing falling to drape over them like a wet blanket now as he goes with – malleable however Isla needs him to be. “I could have at least thought about it more. What I was doing.” He admits, sheepishly, muffled by the way he presses his face in against her shoulder and chest.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Call me crazy, but I almost feel like that makes sense," Isla admits, her voice hushed against the rain, his wing draping around them both as if to ward against a cold only one of them will feel. "She's familiar, like it or not." Like going back to a bad habit when stressed; and like it or not, Sunjata is renowned for seeking distractions to cope.
"You could have - and you might have done it anyway," she says softly, letting her cheek rest against the top of his head, her eyes closing, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. It doesn't change anything, I know. But I'm here whenever you need to talk about it, or just... don't want to sit alone with it."
And that, at least, is one thing she can change moving forward. She can be there, for Sunjata even if not for herself.
"Do you want to get somewhere dry?" she asks quietly.
Perhaps it did make sense in some way that Sunjata isn’t ready to delve into just yet. “She was uncharacteristically nice to me, too.” Which didn’t help. Sunjata never really shied away from those that stroked his ego, even if he struggled with taking compliments. So he simply draws silent and presses his cheek into the cool and wet temperature of Isla’s chest and shirt, sucking down a sharp breath as she continues to speak, hearing the reverberation in her chest.
“I appreciate it.” He pauses, adjusting his head a little as he lifts his gaze to peer at her now. “Likewise, you know.” If she needed to talk, he was there for her too. But for now, he focuses on the following question, squinting against the rain that drips down his face and into his eyes.
“The refuge isn’t far if you want to come back with me.” They could fly there until they reached the entrance, before magic and shifts and the like ceased to work.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"People change, even when we don't expect them to," Isla points out with a small smile. "Maybe Phoebe isn't the same as when you last spoke. Before the Refuge, of course. Or maybe you are the one who has changed." It isn't exactly like Sunjata to rile up someone the second he meets them, but perhaps that's just the way it had been with he and Phoebe in the past. And maybe now they've moved past it - who knows, really.
Gazing down at him, Isla's smile turns a little warmer, and she nods to him, taking a deep breath she doesn't need and giving him a gentle squeeze before finally releasing him from her embrace. "I think I'm finally ready to take you up on that offer," she admits. "The next time I need to talk, maybe I'll drop by."
It's funny to say it like that, as if the things they'll have to talk about are the equivalent of breezy gossip to share over a drink.
"That sounds good," she murmurs of the Refuge. "Is that where you're staying most of the time...?"
Maybe, or maybe it was the influence of their god that had allowed for something else to happen – a sort of new beginning where they weren’t at each other’s throats (arguing, that is). “Maybe.” He rumbles noncommittally, as if he didn’t quite believe it one way or another. It doesn’t matter, though, because he shifts the conversation toward reconnecting, a place where she could find him if she wanted to chat.
And he’s pleased to know that she’d take him up on the offer, if ever it ended up becoming something she wished to seek out. Her gentle squeeze is light but welcome and he slowly lifts the wing that had been draped momentarily over them like a blanket as the offer of the refuge is made. “For now, yes. I’m not particularly welcome anywhere else these days and I can’t go back to the Grounds.” A shoulder shrugs as he shifts, moving to stand and shake out the rain from his hair (not like it matters, because he’s going to shift here in a moment).
And rather than go with the dragon shift, Sunjata decides the Pegasus is likely the one to make it easier for them to get there – at least a more comfortable ride for Isla. “I’ll shift and we can head that way.” It’s an announcement as much as it is a warning, wondering if the steps were even big enough to accommodate the Pegasus, but trying it anyway – shifting to that blue feathered beast and waits for her to climb on top before he takes to the sky toward the refuge.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"I know exactly how you feel," Isla says softly, glancing away for a moment as she climbs back to her feet, letting Sunjata shake out his hair and his wings and prepare to shift. The Grounds has been the only home she's ever known in Caido, and somehow that makes it even worse. So many ghosts haunt the place, no matter how much it might have changed after the war. (And from the little she has heard, the Grounds is very, very changed by everything that has happened).
Nodding, Isla moves down a couple of steps to give Sunjata room, though she is expecting the dragon shift (and privately wondering how the hell he plans to fit on this last little step up here in the rain). So when the pegasus appears instead, she's quietly stunned by its beauty, her pebble blues softening as she gazes over his form. "You don't wear this enough," she murmurs, stepping up to run a gentle hand over one soft wing, before clambering onto his back.
So perhaps the two of them are both vagrants, trying to find a new place in the world without as many memories. And with the Refuge, despite it harboring his combined last name with Nate, his husband hadn’t hardly spent any time there – it made it easier to not be such a painful place, seeking out a familiar face around each and every corner. Perhaps it’s what draws him back time and time again.
If she had the Attuned bond, he might have mentioned that the Pegasus shift was too pretty for him to wear often, not quite imagining that it fit well enough for him, but he can’t and he idly waits for her to clamor onto his back, a snort leaving him shortly before she announces that she’s ready. His wings spread and he takes flight, ensuring that she can hold on well enough through the rain, and before too long they’re at the entrance of the Refuge, just before the designated markers make sure people know not to try to fly in (because the shifts wouldn’t work anymore and that would be an uncomfortable fall).
So he lands, waits for her to slip off his back, before he shifts back and starts to head into the Refuge with her alongside him. “My place isn’t too far from here. Then we can dry off.” He murmurs, casting a glance back toward her before offering her arm so as to help guide her. And before much more time has passed, a building still well lived in comes into sight, with a red door and a few dying plants on the porch are immediately in sight. He doesn’t lock his home here, not feeling the need to with how little actually remained inside (and would he care if someone came along and stole some of the things? In this mental state, no, he likely wouldn’t.)
He lets her in first before following after her, shrugging out of the soaked outer shirt he wears and drapes it over the little coat rack on the inside before closing the door behind them. Inside, there isn't much to look at. A hearth set by a comfortable looking couch with plenty of throw blankets, a few books scattered about, and a few empty glasses and bottles of how he's been attempting to cope and sleep through the night are all left behind.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
It's a fairly short flight, all things considered, and soon enough Isla is heading in through the refuge arm in arm with Sunjata. She falls quiet as they walk through the rain, not gazing at anything in particular; the last time she was here it was to deliver the worst news imaginable after having received it herself. She isn't proud of herself for the way she was back then, and the memories are such that she barely notices the dying plants or the red door.
Not until she's inside, and then suddenly there are strange pieces of Sunjata all over the place, Isla clearing her throat and tucking a lock of sodden hair back behind her ear. "I'm sorry," she says, uncomfortably aware of her sudden retreat into herself. "I just remember how it was, the last time I was here. I don't want to bring the mood down, though."
Huffing out a breath, she glances around, pretending not to notice the bottles and glasses. Not outright, anyway. "This reminds me of the VlamVloed, a bit," she says instead.
The silence isn’t that noticeable, given that Sunjata’s equally just as quiet. He focuses on guiding her out of the rain, into the house, before working to dry himself off. No shifts or partial shifts here, no air of his demigod passive magic to fill the space – just… Humanized, down to a degree that seems all that much more him
“Don’t be sorry.” He murmurs as she apologizes, luckily focused enough on trying to remove his shirt that’s stuck to his skin due to being soaked in with the rain. Eventually he decides a little internal fuck it, dragging the shirt off to reveal his scarred skin beneath, glistening with the rain that’s stuck to him, and he wanders further in to toss it over the side of a low backed chair nearer to the hearth. He’s skinnier now, not as muscular and filled out as he has been (he hasn’t really been eating, not as himself anyway. Satisfying the cravings with his shift have left him almost too thin).
But as she mentions the VlamVloed, he tosses a few logs into the fireplace and strikes a match to get it started. “It kind of does, huh? I never had the chance to decorate things when I was younger, so I think I do a bit too much when given the chance.” Not that it’s entirely a complaint. It’s comfortable, at least.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"I feel like I can't be anything but sorry, these days," Isla admits with a soft chuckle, not wanting to get too close to the fire (even without Ascended whatevers here, she feels like she'll still explode if she's exposed to a flame). So instead she merely stands near the entrance, watching as the soft light fills the room, as the rain lashes against the windows outside.
And then there's Sunjata, the same as she remembers but not, with rain glistening on his skin and scars glinting in the twilight, and she can't help the sad smile that curls at the corners of her lips. "Could I get a towel, please?" she murmurs after far too long, she realises belatedly. They've both seen each other all before, but it's been a while for Isla, and call it the duchess in her, but it doesn't feel right to just strip off alongside him.
"And I'm not sure there are rules when it comes to decorating. As long as it's to your taste, I say do whatever you like." She shrugs.
“Oh, right,” He says, huffing a laugh at his forgetfulness, the lack of needing to host anyone in a while prevalent in his actions. The fire starts and he steps away, grabbing a large plush towel to hand her, before returning back toward the flame, back toward it so he can start drying off.
He regards his decorating skills before his gaze lands back on her, a shrug offered. “I think mine is still a touch rich.” Arms fold across his chest, even the complaint being made means little to him. He was a rich kid, not just new rich, but old blood wealthy, similar to Isla’s own Duchess status. A different world; sure, but the same. “Do you want some tea or something?” He asks, craving the need to do something with his hands.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
She smiles, because she'd be just as terrible a host were their roles reversed, and she accepts the towel from him to dab at her face and her hair, though there's no saving her clothes after so long out in the rain. Luckily she doesn't feel the cold like he does, and so she moves to stand a little ways back from the fire to let him enjoy the heat to its fullest.
"Maybe it is," Isla says in amused agreement, taking in the decor a second time. "But I like it. In the clinic everything was so sterile, and out of it, to say the Grounds were humble is an understatement, so this is the first time I've seen anything like this in a long time." Especially with all of the wandering and contemplating suicide and all that.
She won't taste nor benefit from the tea, but like Sunjata, she feels the need for something to be happening quite keenly, though she doesn't know why. "That sounds nice," she encourages, squeezing the last of the water from her hair and glancing towards the kitchen. "Do you want a hand?"
“Extravagant?” He supplies when she falls short of words, the explanation for Sunjata’s tastes often banked towards the opulence, and if anyone understood that it was likely Isla. But he agrees, as well, that the Grounds had been a humble place, to be expected given how much time had been spent behind a barrier.
But her offer of helping is gladly taken, a nod and a rumbled “sure, that’d be great,” leaving him as he steps away from the flame, hair still dripping some water as he makes his way toward the kitchen, showing her the way. It’s not exactly like how regular kitchens are, there’s little to no food around aside from maybe a few fruit and some jerky when cravings hit, but nothing sat in the fridge to be made nor on the counter in preparation. So he grabs his little kettle and fills it with water, sticking it on the little stove that he sparks with a piece of wood and another match to get the fire, gesturing to the different types of teas for her to pick one.
“Whichever you’d like.” He’s fine with all of them.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
