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!
For all of Evie’s efforts within restoration of Talyson’s opinions, Deimos had given and granted exactly none. Tired of the dramatics and accusations, idiotic lies branched from wayward assumptions, the way the courier seemed to believe everything would magically heal with guilt tripping and one muffled apology, the Sword had kept it filed away into bitter nonchalance. He’d conduct his duties with the youth professionally, as he’d already done with the lava wyrms, and nothing more.
But his eyes watched as she took the opportunity, muffling another sigh threatening to unfurl into the air. They traveled from doorframe and window to the bundles along the sled, and he might have lifted an extra along with his Air incantations to settle next to hers, amidst the waterproof bags and timber, so something still counted.
Upon her return, he began pulling the sled again, dragging it towards the next residence as it to evade everything else entirely. “You are far more forgiving than I am,” with a crook of his makeshift grin – a compliment to yield her strengths and his flaws.
Evie knows that despite Talyson's grievances being with her, it had impacted Deimos far more from the start. Though her magic had been a closely guarded secret well into adulthood, she hadn't escaped the prejudice entirely by revealing it late, even well after Outlanders had begun to change the local sentiment. She is used to scorn and derision, though she doesn't always have the grace to take it with her tongue between her teeth.
Returning to her beloved's side, Evie laughs a little under her breath. "Tolerant, maybe. But I don't mind - it's how we balance each other out." Though Evie would admittedly entertain a peace treaty if Talyson were ever to apologize, so perhaps he's not entirely wrong in calling her forgiving. But even if it came to fruition, there would certainly be no forgetting. Still, there's a touch of warmth to her eyes at the compliment, at his perception of her. Falling into step beside him as they move onward (perhaps a little too swiftly) the Evergreen takes a moment as they aim for the next house to be grateful for a year of blessings delivered in the wake of the war. Even Talyson's bitterness could not erase all the good that had come into her life since leaving her self-imposed exile, and she would never let it. "I actually met his sister recently at a trial run Sah did in the Academy. I'll just pretend the gift is for her even if it's his size," she admits on a snicker, wondering yet again how the two could possibly be related.
Deimos could be tolerant and patient, and had been so in many circumstances. But battlegrounds, enemies, adversaries, and learning to extend boundaries had taught him that he didn’t have to humor the derision and scorn. Crusades were far more understandable and nuances than the tricky, bizarrely intricate ways of friendships, because people were that way; and the Sword had begun to figure out the fault-lines didn’t always start with him. Perhaps his and Talyson’s flaws had careened on a course of fatal aspects, and that was all that could be done; but finally allowing himself to be happy and content with another shouldn’t have been what caused the unraveling. So now he took it with a roll off the shoulder and reticence, eyes on Evie as she had to tiptoe around the misaligned angles too, snorting at the laughter.
No forgetting; the experience stuck and affixed to their minds, regardless of how the world tilted from here and now.
Their steps echoed, and he was half-tempted to rush onward to restore some manner of mischief, to tug and pull and reel around another corner until she caught up, but the conversation veered into other venues of curiosity. So instead he continued on in taking the comfortable aspects of ease and familiarity, form less and less rigid as they maneuvered away, and down the street to other comrades and citizens.
Curiosity would always catch him outright anyway. A brow arched significantly at her snicker, at her words, the vague tilt of his head following. “And she was fine to work with?” The second consideration would come on the heels of the Academy rumblings – namely Sah, and his efforts. “How was Sah’s instruction?”
Evie, perhaps paradoxically, is more proud of Deimos' strengthening boundaries than anything. To see him defend himself against the unfair backlash from a perceived friend has been clear proof of his work, and his attempts to put himself first. Evie will gladly bear Talyson's hatred if it means seeing Deimos happier. Even the distance they put between themselves and the Seawright household seems to unwind the tension of sourness and recent memories from his shoulders, and as he gives into his curiosity Evie smiles. One step closer to putting the courier out of both of their minds.
"She seemed quite bookish, intellectual. We didn't do much talking, but I enjoyed having her there." Clearly the type to manage the affairs of the business, so Evie doubts she'll see much more of her from here on out, but it was enough to recognize the stark differences in the siblings - and be amused by them. At the mention of Sah, she tilts her head back and laughs, though it's a fond thing. "You can tell he's a father, honestly. I think he'll do wonders teaching the younger groups - he's very attentive and encouraging." Despite his youth, he is clearly meant for the rearing and tending of young minds; something she and Mallory definitely were not, but it was promising to witness nonetheless. And then - out of plain curiosity, and with no further motives - Evie tilts her face to him with a question plainly written on it. "You know, I don't think I ever asked if you've ever considered children. You're quite good with them, at least." Sah's children, the Halovian tykes that enjoyed running about their ankles in the squares. With all they'd had before them, certain topics had simply never been visited, and though Evie is rather ambivalent to the discussion she wonders if her partner has ever felt any differently.
Ever the listener, he paused momentarily at each interval to place the logs upon steps or along doorframes, where the citizens would grab them easily, readily accessible amidst chills and frosts. And while the mischief might’ve wound through him amidst many a scruple, he wouldn’t bludgeon away Evie’s insights either, storing them in a collective fold of his mind and memory. Bookish and intellectual seemed to be an opposing position from a certain sibling, and Deimos found himself content that not all Seawrights shared a singular trait.
So he nodded, and then paid more attention to the notions of Sah and his teachings. “Good. Exactly what some of the young Abandoned need.” Out of the light of petulance and disregard for something out of their control, away from the spiral of Stormbreak notions, derision, or scorn – and it would be beneficial for the hunter too, to be able to explain the manifestation of incantations and enchantments for another generation.
Thinking the commentary was done, he turned his head slightly as they wound around a familiar bend in the road, and didn’t expect the inquiry. He reeled it over in his head multiple times, just in case, for his eyes widened in surprise (from the compliment, to the question), and the nature of it all might’ve given the slightest tint of color to his cheeks. A thousand other convictions drove their way through his mind: from days in Helovia where it was second-nature to snag at Kiada when Rexanna wasn’t capable, to all the others he’d taken under his wing, to brief wonderings, relationships fractured, to war and that cataclysm of not expecting to survive…
The Sword paused, swallowing down the layers. “Maybe,” with a roll of his shoulders, uncertain if it gave him discomfort to voice the considerations, that they’d broken apart well before, or that it simply never happened because of his faults, flaws, or something else altogether. Deimos stared straight ahead for a moment, before flicking his piercing eyes back upon her. “I think I tended to assume it was not in the cards for me.” The why went unsaid – Amalia leaving, him needing to heal himself, battles upon battles, crusades and campaigns, fledgling relationships suddenly granted other responsibilities with titles and leadership. “But I enjoyed raising Kiada.” Until he died, she died, and all the other factions in between. Navigating past conversations, and where this all might’ve been drifting, his brow arched. “I recall you wanted some?”
"Exactly my thoughts," she agrees warmly, thinking too of Stormbreak and the pervasive anti-Abandoned sentiment that exists there. Halo has always been a haven for Abandoned, the mageglass plentiful as if to lure magic users inward, and Evie is proud to continue that in more open, political ways with the Academy. Though her dream has been transferred to others, its purpose remains, and she has faith in its future success.
So drawn into the positive sentiment that creates a warm glow in her chest, Evie doesn't consider the far deeper implications of her question, nor the reaction it sustains in Deimos. She bites down a surprised laugh, charmed by the color in his cheeks, in hopes of not offending or embarrassing him. It's a more sensitive topic for him than herself, and that helps stifle the bubbles of flirtatiousness that would otherwise be more present at the sight of him being so flustered.
Admittedly, Evie privately believes it wasn't in the cards not because of him, but Amalia. No matter her history and love for her half-sister, Amalia was always a very selfish person, one consumed with external faith and purpose instead of finding it in herself. Motherhood wouldn't have suited her, in Evie's opinion, but even if it had - the Shield had made her choices, and clearly that hadn't been one of them. Though the Evergreen is reminded again of Kiada, and how she wishes that she could know the girl better, that life would stop keeping her from Halo. "She clearly adores you even with the tension of being Ascended. That is no small feat." Something Evie greatly admires in Deimos. Something she - well, if she was honest with herself - really values in a partner if she were to have children with them.
Now it is her turn to flush a little, a strangled giggle-cough escaping at the sudden turn of the tables. Okay, maybe she understands his reaction now. "I don't know if I'd necessarily be a good mom, objectively, but yes. I would be happy to have one, or even more." Looking out at the spiraling pathway and the houses dotted along it, she smiles, a little melancholy. "My father would surely drone on and one about 'continuing the Wordsworth line' or something, but that has never meant anything to me. I just like to think I could break the cycle, raise a child the way I wish I had been. Watch them grow up, become a person." It doesn't help that she loves children as they are, recalling a tiny Seren on the beaches of Torchline, and the boy she'd nearly adopted entirely alone in the Grounds, Dante. Her heart aches to remember him. "There was a brief time I thought I might have adopted one, but he - I'm sure you remember, he left not long after Clemente died." The spitfire had lost it on Deimos in his grief, though the Sword would be forgiven for not remembering given all he had lost that night.
The mention of Kiada, and their innate fondness for one another, drew a more comfortable smile upon his mouth. “She has always been known to choose her own path. I tried to support her along the way.” She’d succumbed to death, only to rise again from it, and mark her place amidst another unknown enigma; the youth knew how to survive, even when everything else seemed so out of balance. While he may not have agreed with her choice to bow her head towards the Voice, he’d understood the implications of why. And sometimes that seemed to be enough.
But with the tables slightly turned, with her cheeks flushing too, embarrassment, he didn’t feel as discomforted as they mucked about the notions together. There’d been different stakes on either side; legacies of namesakes or trappings of failure – and he tilted his head again, studying her as she glanced elsewhere. For all he’d heard of the Wordsworth parents, nothing had been good or grand, leading to Sam’s hidden measures, where he could’ve been confident and soaring, and Evie’s furtive measures to merely protect the layers of secrets embedded amidst racism and terror. Perhaps he’d been lucky in that accord; his mother and father had been supportive, understanding, until they were gone. “I am sorry you were not given that opportunity,” until lately – and then his gaze snagged at icicles on beams of rooftops, at citizens walking past. “Children should not have to carry the burden of their parents.”
And then he winced at the notions of other days and events – for he could recall, in between the pain and torment his own actions had caused – all the others circumventing back upon his shoulders. “I do.” His glance fell back upon the cobblestones as they passed by and along the familiar stretches, a breath hastening through his lungs, unwinding into puffs of air that felt sharpened. “Sometimes I feel as though all I can do is protect others, and even then, it backfires.” Like with Rexanna. Like with Clemente. And maybe, here and now, years into the future, when defenses had been rendered, he’d still find a way to fail Halo. “I would not want my errors somehow extended to one of my own either.”
Recollection softens his smile, and Evie's does in tandem. "Knowing how frequently you undersell yourself, I'll take that as 'you went above and beyond time and again'," she half-mutters, fond and not at all truly meaning to be secretive about it. Not when it is so complimentary a feature.
The conversation becomes swiftly fraught with emotions that rush through an entire array of sources, but Evie has never been one to shy away from those. Call it bravery or stupidity, but even for all her years of secrecy and defensive cruelty, Evie has never tried to deny her own feelings. "No, they shouldn't. But I try to see the positive - they gave me an example of everything not to do. Definitely not as good as providing something to replicate, but something I can still use." They wouldn't take this from her too. Not after all Evie had given them, willingly or otherwise.
Truly, she doesn't mean to hurt him with the reminder. Wherever Dante is, she often includes him in her sparse but growing prayers; that is all a native Grounder knows to do. While she misses him, there is nothing she can do to force him to return, and for a moment she regrets bringing him up at all when Deimos' quiet confession touches her ears. Reaching for his hand without hesitation, Evie squeezes his palm through their gloves. "What happened wasn't your fault. We all make mistakes, what matters is our intent; I let a good woman die that same LongNight, because I prioritized keeping everyone inside safe. Because I wasn't strong enough to fight whatever might be hiding behind the door." A hurt that still burns, just as she's sure his does. Evie understands his grief, but she will spend the rest of her life ripping those doubtful thoughts out of his head like persistent weeds just to show him someone's hands cared enough to dirty themselves with the task.
"And parents inevitably make mistakes too. You'll let slip that you think their drawing looks like a lumpy vegetable family, I'll insult their new hairstyle when they cut their own bangs..." Evie laughs, envisioning it. "Some mistakes are worse than others. But I think if fate ever chose to make it happen, we'd make pretty good parents overall." She avoids any other worse fates; their children moving to other lands to get away from them, rifts and ruptures, or Gods forbid anything like what happened to Hotaru. Evie was the optimist of the two of them after all.
He heard the mutter, but only arched his brow in response, pretending not to have gained knowledge of it, glancing up the lane instead. Besides, somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always wondered if he could’ve done more – with the Ascended, with the war – but eventually there’d been no choice at all. Kiada didn’t seem to begrudge him of the notions anyway; because they’d all walked narrow lanes and roads marred with thorns and pitfalls, hoping it’d been the right decision. In the end, she’d survived, and he’d take it.
The Evergreen and Sword complemented one another well when the onslaught of emotions intermingled and dispersed; for while Deimos chose to muck about or avoid them, Evie declared hers with determination and intent. It caused a slight grin, subtle admiration in his gaze, as she persisted. She’d tread lightly, then rose above the waters of the challenges and trauma her own lineage had inflicted, marred, and scarred, to understand the follies, and have no desire to repeat them. And perhaps he enjoyed the bit of daring in her, to outlast the strife, and never linger in its midst again. “You would be enough,” he added; the ways of her heart and mind, her actions and attempts, another genuine smile persisting along his features, before dragging the sled along again.
But no sooner had he started than he ceased altogether; hand enclosed by hers as the melancholic void threatened. They were all haunted by death in some way, shape, or form; some inevitably caused by their own decisions, some because they weren’t enough, and it bit and tore at him still. Maybe it always would, in cycles and waves, when the blood seeped into dreams and turned them into lethal bombardments. He took half a moment to simply remove his soul out of the ruts and gloom, before gloved fingers moved over hers. “We are stronger now,” a reminder – that even when the horrors of LongNight existed in fragments and memories, they’d all grown vastly since those hellhole reaching evenings.
Though he couldn’t help the rising blush to his cheeks once more at the images cut out by the Evergreen, snorting and shifting, trying to rid himself of some league of embarrassment or emotion. “We will see,” was all he could manage – with a steady wink to follow before his gaze flickered back up to her features.
Stubborn and brave of heart she might be, but she still flushes beneath the surety of his compliment, weak here if nowhere else. "Thank you," she mumbles, ears pink as she stares at her feet to hide her smile, as if the dimples that deepen in her cheeks were any easier to hide. "I'd say the same for you, but you've already proven it." And though she had never seen him tend to and care for Kiada when she was much younger, the girl's continued existence and the strength of their bond alone is something Evie admires, no matter his doubts.
As his hand tightens around hers, Evie steps closer to his side, allowing their shoulders to brush and their heads to turn inward towards each other as he struggles through the mire of old memories and painful mistakes. Pride glows in her breast as he emerges from it more readily than past years, hope in his chosen words instead of lambasting self-deprecation. "We are," she assures, and is certain he can hear every ounce of love and pride in him that lives in her bones as she says it.
Taking the opening for what it was, Evie persists after the humor, allowing her grin back to the fore. "Though I'm more concerned about raising a child with an inherited love for food; our fridge isn't nearly big enough for three." Blue eyes glitter with mischief as she says it, because while they are of very different body types, the Sword and the Evergreen couldn't have more perfectly matched appetites.
Content to note the return of her own blush, he snagged at the sled again, dragging her along in the wake of his grasp, down the last portions of streets and stones. He withheld the impulse to tease and contort the rest of the semblances out of her, to wonder how he’d proven anything – but even the Sword could accept the value of his strength, persistence, and growth in the past years. Devastation and heartache had been marring wounds sunken deep into his bones, cut and scorched and scarred, but not so blighted, or noticeable now. Not with support and sagacity, not with things waiting for him on beams of light, rather than everything else pressed and folded in voids. So he shook his head and snorted in response, tucking her within the breadth of his expanse as her shoulder brushed near his.
Even as they cast along on sidewalks and bends in the road, his mouth tilted downward, resting against her hairline, stoked and stroked by fire; content, permitting a quiet rumble in response to the jest about appetites and inherited traits. Comforted by the ranges of humor, and treading lightly over emotions and sentiments he’d never allowed himself to ponder or wonder over, his tones were an amused venture, cast in their deep intonations. “Is that a veiled attempt to find a bigger house?”
There are few houses left on their route, but Evie doesn’t mourn just yet. Even with this particular duty nearing completion they won’t be parting any time soon, and at the end of the evening she will reunite with him regardless, as they’ve effectively moved in together despite not discussing it. Since just before the war he has held her through the nights, warding away nightmares and loneliness alike. Even now as he tucks her beneath his arm there is the persistent feeling of safety and a sureness in her heart that tells her everything is where it should be.
His mouth at her hairline bends in an unmistakable smile, and Evie’s own laugh is free to mist up around her cheeks in the cold air. “Maybe,” she evades playfully, for all of mere moments. “Though it would definitely blow our cover. Except I’m not sure how we’ve managed to keep it in any way.” Humor dances in the dimples of her cheeks at the thought. It is mostly people like Noah and Sah who aren’t aware, as far as Evie knows, and both have been quite busy. Most of the civilians know - or assume - because they see moments exactly like this one: the Sword and the Evergreen walking down the street, wrapped to each other’s sides, smiling and at peace.
Natural progressions, perhaps; the Sword already giving and granting her space in his own for seasons, churning and turning until it became over a year. Slower though, despite what others might have said, for solid structures and fortifications, so when something went awry it wasn’t a calamity, so when there were conversations, discussions, they weren’t abrupt and clawing. They’d warded and waded through multitudes together with steadfast maturities despite what mischief might’ve managed; dimming shadows and casting light.
His eyes rolled at the next notation – though mostly because they hadn’t been keeping anything a furtive measure. If no one knew or realized, perhaps they had no intention of prying, kept to themselves, or were busy with other nuances. He wouldn’t blame any of them. A roll of his shoulders followed, taking the advantage of keeping her tucked beneath him, while snagging at a few of the remaining logs and watching the Air magic whisk them onto another doorstep. “I did not realize we were a secret,” came on a smirk and a snicker, if she happened to glance his way.
Slower than their peers perhaps, but neither have ever minded. They rule together, they live together, their lives are as intertwined as a married couple could hope to be. What is the rush worth at that point? It’s also why neither has sought to hide or equally disillusion anyone as to the state of their relationship. If people are oblivious, it’s their own future surprise to contend with.
Her eyes rarely ever part from him, so she is privy to the smirk that brightens his face attractively. Evie snickers as she wraps her arm around his lower back, hooking comfortably in his clothing on the other side of his hip to hang there. “Only to the busy and the blind,” she snorts humorously. Though she tilts her head up slightly to catch his eye, expression mild but warm with easy affection. “We don’t have to find someplace larger of course, there’s always building. Though I’m not sure how happy Zuriel would be with the company and noise.” The Evergreen’s lips quirk, already considering bribes and perhaps expansions of her favored fireplace abode to appease her with. Perhaps even one of her own. Though Evie is happy to squeeze their lives together the way they already do, if the future did require an upgrade, she’d never ask Deimos to give up the home he’d made and kept for so many years. Her own tiny studio is barely occupied as is, it wouldn’t miss her.
