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!
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
King’s End was a lure based on plentiful herbs, beautiful rolling fields of green, encompassing lore, and the plethora of flora and fauna. So the Caretaker opted to take one last stop to enjoy and relish the area before taking the skyport home, basket full of goodies, and her branch, collected and snagged to become a healing staff.
Which was all well and good, until she spotted the herd of unicorns in the distance.
Incapable of helping herself, the youth, with mouth agape and eyes widening, began a steadfast walk towards them. Not to annoy, irritate, or poke her nose about, but merely to watch. Maybe take a few notes about those existing in the wild, for some were likely due to linger in the Celestine for any number of reasons, just like countless other brethren.
What she didn’t take into consideration were large, flat rocks that sometimes existed in meadowlands – and that notion came all the more apparent as she failed to lift her foot high enough, sending her. and her objects, immediately sprawling to the earth with a loud enough thud to ensure unicorns, and other wildlife, heard her from some distance. “Oof,” was a mumble against the ground, as she moved to rise from the stone, hands bloodied and bruised.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Though the temperatures hadn't dropped quite as low as they would over the coming weeks, was chilly enough that the youngin's of the herd were full of piss and vinegar and the older members were joint-sore and cranky. They moved like a flock of birds, with the majority just followin' along where a few chose to go; Morgen rarely interrupted to lead them unless they looked as though they were about to fuck off somewhere they really shouldn't.
With his hat pulled down low to cut the chill of the wind, Morgen wouldn't have been aware of the caretaker's fall were it not for the sudden raising of half a dozen heads. Nostrils flared, ears perked, and necks grew rigid and arched. 'S'probably just one of those ghost things." The wrangler murmurs, patting shoulders as he pushes himself through the herd and narrows his eyes. Somewhere on the hillside was something that was vaguely ghost-shaped, in that it appeared human-ish, but from where he stood he couldn't really make it out. With nothing more than a mental whistle, a buckskin mare bullies her way to Morgen's side.
'Listen, if it is a ghost, we'll fuck off.' He murmurs to her, and though she doesn't leave his side, her ears are pinned for good measure. Grabbing a handful of mane, the wrangler heaves himself onto her back. With their minds intertwined he has little need for reins, though he does cluck softly under his tongue to encourage her on.
Thanks to Sweets' superspeed the pair near Lena quite quickly, though not before Morgen calls out a helpful: "Is you one of them ghost-things?"
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
It was a slow rise to a crouch, feeling the sudden ache in her wrists and knees, when she heard the incoming of hooves crunching beneath snow. A quick, sharp glance upward revealed the outline of a unicorn and rider, and she couldn’t help but wince, out of embarrassment and stupidity. Head hanging, she shook it vaguely, stretching upwards and striving to ignore the flux of blood on the snow. “No ghost thing,” was a quiet mutter, pondering if he meant the daemons.
Cheeks and ears flushed, her eyes flickered from the unicorn and stranger, to the restless herd, and then back to her array of things all scattered throughout the snow. “Sorry for disturbing you,” because she was, before stooping down again to snag at her basket, hastening to grab the herbs and branch dispersed across white.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"Probably what a ghost would say, huh?" Morgen chuckles; it's a good-natured sound, and though he and Lena were for all intents and purposes alone out in the asscrack of nowhere, nothing in the man's movements suggested he meant her any harm. 'Ain't no disturbance." He mumbles, dismounting with the ease of long practice. Despite the mare's rather bitchy nature, her ears perked forward as her dark eyes looked toward Lena, deciding for herself whether the woman was a threat or not.
"Feel broken?" The wrangler asks, nearing, and offering out a hand for Lena to steady against in case she wanted to try and move. "These rocks get real fuckin' slippery this time'a'year." Then, realizing himself, he chuckles apologetically. "Sorry 'bout the language."
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Lena wouldn’t actually know what a ghost would say – though she’d heard plenty of monsters – but she swallowed down some modicum of embarrassed words, handwaving and brushing it aside as the chuckle seemed good-natured and she wasn’t about to be pummeled or decimated. The assurance still left her nervous though, and for half a moment she wondered if she could shift into her bird form – dainty and gone in an instant, retrieve her things later when the coast was clear.
But then her eyes went to the unicorn, and she strived to smile.
The question made her snap her attention back to her injuries, and she shook her head again. “I don’t think so. Probably just my pride,” came on a light, edgy, apprehensive laugh, turning her limbs over to see the skin brushed aside and the blood still pooling, hand lightly ghosting around his, but not reaching all the way. “I can find my bandages somewhere…,” but they were white, and not as stark in the snow. As for the language, she paid it no mind (she’d heard far worse down narrower streets in Stormbreak). “It’s okay."
Crouching, with fingers and palms stinging, she gingerly snagged a few more herbs and put them in her righted basket, with curiosity conforming just as much as the aches in her joints. “Are you tending to that herd?”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
01-08-2023, 05:02 PM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2023, 05:23 PM by Morgen.)
MORGEN
Come down from your fences
"Sorry t'hear it." Morgen says with a grin. "Pride takes an awful long to heal." Pausing, he offers the caretaker a wry crinkle of his nose. "So I've heard, anyway." He adds as if his own pride was still without blemish or injury.
Holding his fingers steady but unmoving just as he might with a skittish colt, Morgen shakes his head. "Got some down at my camp if y'can't." He offers gently of the bandages, before glancing over his shoulder. 'She don't heal.' Morgen mumbles apologetically, though the unicorn, seeing no reason to apologize at all, merely pins her ears. "Yep. Got about 30 head right now, and more'n a few of 'em can heal if you'd like."
Flaring her nostrils, the buckskin unicorn stamps one of her hooves in a gesture that didn't seem to require an attuned bond to understand: I'm not carrying you both back. Running his tongue across his teeth, the wrangler sighs. "I can do a bit of healin' myself. Ain't strong, but might take the edge off." The offer is softly made; Morgen's dusty denim-blue eyes are lowered that Lena might make up her mind without the weight of his gaze rushing her along.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
She gave half a grin in return, the edges and fringes of her nerves still thin. Unfortunately, her bandages seemed to blend quite well in the snow, and she mentally made a note to find some that weren’t perfectly white for the next time she wandered into snow and ice, but she managed to snag some of her herbs back into the basket before they were marred and ruined further.
Rising from her crouch, her eyes pinpointed back to the unicorn, completely unbothered by the pinned ears or lack of healing abilities. “Oh! So she has superspeed then?” with an open admiration and a smile, and she had to fight her mouth from dropping at the notions of thirty amidst the herd beyond. “I haven’t been around so many before. We get quite a few in the Celestine, but not to that amount.” Though the enclosure would provide for a massive group, Lena would worry more about the cause of so many injuries or illnesses.
Nor she did require any sense of movement or motion, already embarrassed by her actions. “I don’t want to trouble you,” and then the notions seemed to echo along her skull – another Abandoned in the midst of Caido. And while Stormbreak had banned them from their wake, the Caretaker had never been fussed or pressed about their abilities – for not everyone would rise to become the Voice. “But, if you want?” Turning her palms over, she stared at the bloodied, mangled mess, cringing and wrinkling her nose at the scene. “I’m not sure I have much to offer you in return.”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"Mmhmm. Quick as a whip." Pausing, the wrangler grins. "When she wants to be anyway. Mostly she does everything in her own damn time, but.." He shrugs as if to ain't that like a woman. Narrowing his eyes to aid in whatever mental database he was searching, Morgen bites at his lower lip. "Celestine..that the uh...that magical zoo hospital thing?" As an abandoned, Stormbreak wasn't the sort of place he'd ever visited, and as a wanderer it wasn't the sort of place he'd heard much about either.
'Ain't no trouble at all.' He answers with an easy shake of his head. "My momma always taught me that you don't do things expectin' anythin' in return. I think she always meant it in a be a good person sort'a way, but it makes for far less disappointment I've found." As if realizing this might have been a bit of an overshare, the man clears his throat and rolls up his sleeves. Hovering his hands gently above Lena's, Morgen lets his eyes slip shut as a soft golden light pulses from his palms.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Her smile returned at the description of the mare – an apt narration of many strong women – before realizing she’d forgotten about introductions entirely. In the midst of slipping, falling, scattering her things, and another’s approach, it’d been lost, and she grimaced inwardly for those forgotten mannerisms, or at the nuances of an Abandoned not being welcomed into Stormbreak's gates. That was a change they were willing to implement, if there was anyone to lead them. “Yes! I’m its Caretaker, Lena.” She would’ve extended her hand out in a following greeting, but they were already turned over and marred.
As for the trials and tribulations she’d caused, her head tilted vaguely at the insinuation that it wasn’t any trouble, grateful, quiet, and compliant as he waxed some other musings. “All right. Thank you,” and she’d figure out a way to repay him for his kindness anyway.
And then she was busy watching – not one to be in the view of much magic, but curious just the same – eyes widening, taking in the gilded, golden hues as they pulsed and reverberated from his palms and towards hers. Curling and coiling, the Attuned felt the difference immediately – from stinging skin to nothing but a dull, muted ache, already fading from her senses. “Incredible,” she whispered, from a studious standpoint, transfixed by the particulars.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Morgen mumbles; if he was at all put off that Lena was a citizen of a realm whose borders actively killed his kind, he gave no notice. 'Name's Morgen Walker. That there is Sweet.' The wrangler adds, shifting his head slightly to indicate the buckskin mare.
Pulling back his hands once the glow had ceased, Morgen rubs his palms on his jeans before glancing down at them and wrinkling his nose slightly. "Sorry. S'all I got." Then, with a quiet chuckle, he adds: "Ain't that just like a man?" Shaking his head at what was not only a crude joke but also a poor one, he sighs and offers his hands out again. "Right, lets see if we can get'cha back on your feet."
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Lena swung her head from the man, Morgen, and to the mare, Sweet, committing them to memory. Half an inquiry rested on her tongue on how the unicorn acquired her name, but left the little joke behind. Besides, she had the crude joke for her eyes to widen again, and then snort and rally through.
Taking his hands gingerly, and only so she could properly gain her balance, the youth stood up from her crouch, basket over her arm, and things vaguely collected. She might’ve left some others in the snow, but it was difficult to tell in the way they’d all haphazardly fallen around. “Thank you again,” came along, uncertain of what else to say.
Except she remembered she had treats in her pockets, and dug one out, intentionally for the mare, lifting it up for inspection. “Can I give her one?” She’d been patient and forbearing enough with all the shenanigans.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"You're very welcome." Morgen replies, releasing Lena's hand and taking a step back. He too glances down into the snow around them, but even with how the woman's feet (and bottom) had disturbed it, whatever else she may have dropped appeared lost in the white.
Glancing into Lena's palm, Morgen itches a hand up one side of his face to hide the crookedness of his smile as he shrugs. "You can try. She ain't the most—" Frowning the words die on the wrangler's tongue, as the unicorn steps forward with her ears perked and an expression on her face that said she'd never hurt a damn fly. Eyeing her suspiciously but saying nothing (out loud, anyway), Morgen silently wonders what sort of bullshit the mare was on about now as she began to lip lightly at the sleeve of Lena's jacket.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Absolute glee bounded over the Caretaker’s smile the moment the unicorn twisted her way; her grin an effervescent beam, like she hadn’t been had an embarrassing pratfall moments before. She could hear the warnings, and had experienced enough of the species in the Celestine (and out – given the war antics amidst Stormbreak last year), but carried on anyway - calming her demeanor, despite the laughter threatening to be unleashed as the muzzle drew towards her pockets.
Flattening out her palm, she placed the treat in the center, and reached out towards the mare. “Here you are,” was a gentle croon, with perhaps the promise of more if this instance went well.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Running his tongue across his teeth and tsking under his breath as Sweets acted like one of those goddam unicorns from fables that only came to sweet and virgin women, despite being the devil incarnate most of the time.
Ahhh well, at least Lena hadn't gotten bit.
'You're welcome to wander back down with us and rest at camp if you want." Morgen offers with an easy shrug. Lowering her head the mare nosed at Lena's pockets to see what else might be hidden there as the humans did their thing.
Whether she did or didn't, night fall would surely find the wrangler alone, tucked up neatly in his bedroll with only his herd for company.
