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 gate slid into place under his power, the clink of metal barely heard under the control and precision of his might. Swinging it idly in his hands, listening as there was barely a semblance of creaking at all, he waged another long breath. It unfurled from his lungs in a sense of ease, with one less issue facing down his day. His gaze landed along the segments of other paths, watching as passersby and citizens continued onward, walking by, before catching sight of his guards further ahead, persistent in their patrol, circling back around again.
And then the stranger’s words brought him back, but only due to curiosity and confusion. Brows furrowing, with the same tilt to his head, unaware of the meaning behind the musings and laughter, he could only inquire further. “Help them see what?”
For one of the first times in her life, Alys felt positively gleeful. This random encounter with a stranger had brought her clarity over the one thing in her life she had never quite understood: her magic. She could see her path forward more clearly now. She could use her magic to enhance the experiences of her patrons as she read the cards for them. Maybe, if she got good enough at it, she could even earn a living wage by sharing her abilities.
The daydream slipped from her mind as the stranger spoke again, and she paused thoughtfully, unsure how to explain herself to the man. The easiest way would be to show him, but with it still being such a new idea, she wasn't sure how to go about offering. "I - it's hard to explain," she said hesitantly. "To show them... to show them the unseen. To help them see themselves more clearly. I could... show you? That might be easier? If you - if you have time?"
His eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious and dubious. Skeptical and reserved to a great many faults, he regarded her hesitation, and inability to explain with a roughened glance, as if trying to pick apart the argument for why he wouldn’t concede.
But then again, how many times had he offered to assist others with their magic? How many times had they done the same for him, all of them combining efforts together to see how far they forged along? While not all Abandoned banded together, they certainly were comrades by association, and he could feel the increasing curiosity and inquiry sinking, slipping in, to the machinations of his mind. His eyes glanced briefly to the outline of his soldiers on the horizon, marching, jogging, investigating – he had some spare moments before he joined them on their next round. “I have some.” Brow arching, he jutted his jawline forward. “What do I need to do?”
Alys's excitement rapidly descended into nerves when the stranger agreed to be her first test subject. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to say yes, and now that he had, she wasn't quite sure where to begin. Still, he'd volunteered, and if she wanted to heed his advice, there was no time like the present to practice. With a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, Alys reached into her pocket to withdraw her deck of cards.
"I use these cards to offer guidance to others," she said nervously. Some people were less receptive than others to her tarot practice, and she couldn't quite read where the man would fall on the spectrum of acceptance. "You don't need to do anything. Just - give me a moment."
Usually, Alys would ask if an individual had any particular concerns and divine a spread of cards to best address them, but today, she wasn't quite as sure of herself as she would normally be. Instead, she decided on a single-card, general pull. She shuffled the cards deftly, with the ease of long practice. What does he need to know? she asked the cards silently, realizing suddenly that she'd never asked the stranger's name. Oh well; it was too late now.
She cut the cards and pulled the top one. Knight of Cups, reversed. "Hmm," she hummed. The card indicated that the stranger was on the brink of some kind of new project, but was perhaps hesitating to take action. How was she to put that into an illusion? She thought for a moment longer, then began to concentrate. A small figure began to emerge in the snow: an armored knight, riding a white horse. The knight paced before a pile of supplies. "The Knight of Cups indicates that there is some creative project that you've been contemplating, but being reversed, you might be facing some kind of blockage or hesitation." The knight dismounted and began to build using the supplies. "It's time for action -" The illusion petered out. It was harder than she'd expected to keep her concentration while describing the card. She huffed with frustration. "Well, that's what the cards say, anyway."
Not needing to do anything left him restless, so he allowed his fingers to rest along the gate, swinging it back and forth, testing, listening, for the lack of a residual squeak. Only thereafter did he arch his brow and realize what she was grabbing – cards. Brief reminders of Mildew, of the way he fought and still declined to think the materials had the ability to read his fate, for he carved his own, flickered, embedded, around bitter days and ends. Or even of Chaele, reader of intestines and organs, that he still found utterly bizarre, and his eyes narrowed. Speculatively, pondering, wondering, if there were other special figments surrounding it, and if he’d once again find himself wrinkling his nose at the notions.
Though, he supposed, the demigod hadn’t been wrong before. They’d found alternate routes to snag Halo again. They’d conquered and snagged in a different way; with the people’s blessing, and Neron taking out his own means to an end in Morgan.
Deimos wouldn’t know what many of them signified anyway – so when he found himself watching, glancing, at the miniature mount and its use of supplies, he almost smiled. As for the notions, they were likely, deliberately, vague enough to fit some bill – and as Warden, there were always things going on, new projects, his and Evie’s home, the springs ready to be hastened by Frey’s nature aspects. Or even the inquiry he had of what they’d seen amidst the wide-open mountains; a hesitation within his soul because, in some part, he dreaded the potential answer. “Interesting. Thank you.” His eyes glanced back to her, with a significant arch to her brow. “We do have some projects here finishing, and other starting. And your illusion does lend more explanation than description alone,” jutting his jawline towards the image before it diminished. “The more cards pulled, the more you will require your magic, but gain in precision and control.” Maybe another provocation, to see if she thought it’d be worth it.
Alys's prediction, if one could call it that, was a bit vague, but at its core, that was the point of her musings. The cards revealed things for one to ponder, to turn over in their mind and decide for themselves what it meant. Many thought that tarot predicted the future, but that was wrong - it was both so much more and so much less than that. Alys had used the cards many times as a tool for self-reflection. The art was in interpreting the cards; the difficulty was in applying their message to one's own life.
She was pleased to find that her message resonated with the stranger, and she smiled shyly as he spoke. Perhaps he was right, and the more she practiced, the easier and better it would get. It was a shame that she'd felt so rushed and frazzled during the reading. She felt sure that she could improve with practice. "I think you're right." She considered thoughtfully. "I wonder what else I can do with my magic? I'll have to think about that." Her gaze refocused on the stranger. "Thank you."
“Sometimes you can only find out by testing it. Trying.” A shrug of his shoulders, a maneuver through straight-lined muscles and form, curiosity getting the better of him again. There’d been endless days where he’d strived and practiced, eased the sense of burdens away from his mind and simply applied, strived, unraveling bits and pieces through his blood and pulse until everything became fluid, tangible, and real. An instant incantation at his beck and call, a flicker of a flame, a gilded adornment through his palms, a rush of life draining capabilities.
His head tilted vaguely, before the piercing slate of his stare went towards the Academy in the distance. “The Academy offers training, and so do I, within the barracks.” If she sought to apply herself, there were always safe places to instill the practice. Find firmer ground. Options to consider within the haze.
Though, he’d noticed but scarcely mentioned (somewhere, his mother probably rolled over in her grave) any hint of introductions. Eventually, he peeled away from the gate, extending his hand. “I am Deimos. Who are you?”
With the gate fixed, Alys thought it might be time to be on her way. Her companion, however, seemed to have other ideas. She glanced away when he offered a place to train, shyness taking over. She'd never considered formal training, and it was strange to have it simply offered to her, without her having to work for it. Of course, she thought, she'd have to work hard if she accepted. Perhaps that was when she'd pay for it.
"I'm Alys," she said, glancing back up to take the proffered hand. "Alys Glasse." Introductions made, she hesitated. What would happen if she accepted the offer for training? She'd always been on her own; it was not in her nature to accept help. Still, she'd lived twenty-six years with useless magic. If she could learn to wield it, to make use of it... "If I wanted to get training, at the Academy or in the barracks, how would I start?"
Placing his gloves back on his hands, and turning to briefly regard his companions as Belial seemed to resurface from an impromptu nap along the walls, and Zuriel snorted, his eyes eventually roamed back to the stranger. Alys Glasse didn’t sound familiar to him at all, even with the scores of names and individuals who’d scattered themselves along Halo, and beyond. “Where are you from?” Lands unfurled furtive stories, whether the people liked them or not – though perhaps more laden with presumptions and losses than could ever be countered.
Having only rarely refused drills, practice, or preparation, he wouldn’t hold the same opinions and hesitation, but merely waited. “If you want to train with the Academy, you should consult with Hotaru Kaito. She runs it.” Considering his constant activities, necessities, and responsibilities, he hadn’t become a part of his best friend’s school, but still provided assistance and guidance towards that direction. As for training within his range of capabilities, he permitted another slight smile. “And for the barracks, simply walk in. We are always training in some capacity.”
Alys's gaze fell to the cards in her hands as she shuffled them once more, gently. She placed them in a plain drawstring pouch and tucked them lovingly into her pocket, where they would be safe from prying eyes. She knew that not everyone would believe in the power of her cards, and she'd made her peace with that a long time ago. Deimos, though, had regarded her weak attempts at divination and magic without judgment, and for that, she was grateful.
"I'm from the Hollowed Grounds, originally," she said. "But I've been traveling for a while now. This is my first time in Halo, though." She'd spent most of her life near her home in the Inner Quarter, but ever since the barrier fell, she'd been wandering. To be honest, she was happier that way. The idea of staying in one place had always baffled the young woman.
"Thank you for your help today," she said, inclining her head. A light breeze ruffled her dark, messy curls. "I will be sure to look in at the Academy. Where might I find the barracks, were I so inclined?"
His eyes widened slightly at the inclusion of the Grounds, the memories of first journeys clambering over his mind. A long sigh unburdened from his chest; sweeping over the parallels of sojourns amidst this spinning world: the snarling aspects of Naturals and Outlanders, when it’d scarcely mattered after a year or so. Barriers fallen. LongNights haunted. Losses and losses and losses, until they struck out beyond those wakes, spiraling from their tragedies. He swallowed down something harsh and unwinding, gaze falling to distant buildings. “There are a few of us here that followed the same routes.” A small smile reappeared in the corner of his mouth, as if trying to salvage the remnants and better portions of things learned, of quests scorched.
Deimos nodded after the acknowledgments though. “You are welcome.” Assistance with incantations was usually automatic for his soul. His stare left the horizon, and filtered down the road, one finger pointing down the main portions. “Two streets over. Big pillars. Climbing wall outside. You cannot miss it,” with some measure of pride in his voice, if he allowed it.
From there, he could hear the feral outcries of his guards as they came running by again, this time beckoning with Warden!, as if coaxing him good-naturedly back into rambling patrols. With a snort, he nodded in their direction, turning his body their way, before tossing a notion over his shoulder. “Good luck.”
