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!
Even were it not for the strange rhyme, Fox would have been enthralled by the making of the fire nonetheless. So long had he spent being unable to be around the flames, the heat, even the light of the sun, that moments like these always seemed somewhat magical. Indeed, now that he can plunge his fingers into the embers, even more so. (He doesn't, of course, because that would be weird and rude).
"Too much going on in a city," Fox agrees nonchalantly. "The Grounds are nowhere near that, these days, and even they seem loud enough at times." Reaching into his bag again, the hunter draws out a smaller pot - enough to brew coffee in - and heads to the stream to fill it with water. Carefully adjusting the fire Morgen has made to make room for his pot without suffocating it, he sits back again on his heels.
"Ah, you'd think so," he murmurs of the Grounds. "People forget how many ordinary folks lived there, even with all the Ascended. And since the war the whole place has change - feels completely different. There's even a port now, so we get travellers coming in more often than we ever did before." But still - it's no Torchline, if that's what Morgen means.
As for the tourist destination brothel, Fox bares his teeth in a fanged grin. "You better watch out the tourists don't come looking for pony rides."
It's been a while since Morgen pottered around a fire with someone else that he finds himself simultaneously charmed and annoyed by the little dance their hands and fingers have to do to keep out of each other's way. Opting to roughly chop some vegetables with the knife he keeps on his belt rather than overthink something that didn't bear thinkin' too hard about, Morgan plops himself down and begins to do just that.
"So what keeps you in the Grounds then?" The wrangler wonders, clearly a master of conversation. Slipping vaguely oval-shaped disks of carrot and mushroom into the pot, Morgen clanks the lid on top to let the stew stew.
"Fuck that." Morgen laughs abruptly. Removing his hat and wiping his sweaty brow with his arm, the wrangler bangs at the brim of it to clear it of dust, but opts to set it down in the grass instead of back on his head. Raking his fingers through thinning snarls of blonde hair, he gives his head a stern shake. "Ain't no price high enough t'make me want to stand around all day and give pony rides." Pausing, Morgen twists his lips for a moment before adding: " 'specially not in this heat." Because what are two old men to talk about, if not the weather.
Of a startlingly similar ilk, both in the loner department as well as the charmed-and-annoyed one, Fox at least doesn't have to be quite so careful around the fire, and he's more than content to move around the ashes and burning logs with his hands when he's at risk of getting in Morgen's way too much. After he's happy with the position of the coffee pot, he shifts to sit down properly, his tail flicking lazily along the grass behind him.
"Habit," he hazards at first, rolling his shoulder in a shrug. "I hunt monsters for a living, and the Grounds has plenty even now that the mutant everything is starting to settle down." It's not just that though, and he knows it. "A lot of the farmers out there are getting older now, too. Most of their kids became Ascended or left for elsewhere. If I went away, there'd be no one to keep the wolves from the door." Literal and monster...ical.
Surprised by the sudden laughter and finding it contagious in a way that brings a smile to his lips, Fox looks up. "I dunno - I quite enjoy it," he remarks, that being an understatement given the nature of his race. "Deepfrost can go fuck itself, though. I never knew I could get so cold."
'Right. Forgot ya'll could do that.' The wrangler mumbles more to himself than to Fox as he notices the Ancient poking his their fire with his fingers. For a moment Morgen's mind drifts, wondering what it might be like to be an ancient, to have teeth that could chew through things more easily, and to never have to fear a wildfire out in the grasslands. Before he can get too carried away, behind him comes an aggressive-sounding snort, and though Morgen doesn't need to turn in order to see Sweet's pinned ears, pinned they are indeed. Flapping his hand vaguely over his shoulder in a gesture meant both to tell the mare to fuck off as much as it was to reassure her he wouldn't become an ancient anytime soon.
'S'at so? Didn't there used to be a guild for that in the Grounds?' And hadn't it burned down or some shit? Morgen couldn't really remember; the gossip he heard on his supply runs into various towns didn't tend to stick in his mind that long. "Ohhuh. Habit and a bleedin' heart, sounds like." Morgen concludes, though if this latter sentiment is meant to be a judgement, it's said without any bite in it.
"Ain't that the truth." Morgen agrees, and now that they're both grinnin' like a pair of schoolboys, it seems a perfectly good time to bring out the booze. Pulling out a flask from within his pack, the wrangler rubs at the top of it with his shirt to remove any lingering dust (or, in all honesty, horse shit) from his bag. "The cold and the fuckin' ache. I used to think it was just somethin' people said about feelin' the cold comin' in your bones, but goddam if it ain't the fuckin' truth."
"I forget half the time as well," Fox admits sheepishly, dusting off his hands and rubbing them on his pants in case of any lingering ashes. "I've only been an Ancient since just after the war. Used to be an Ascended, before that. It's a big change." He glances up at the sudden snort from the unicorn behind them, and for the first time Fox gets more than regular horse vibes from the interaction. "Companion?" he guesses.
Humming an affirmative and reaching out as the water starts to bubble, Fox watches it closely until he's satisfied with the boil and takes the pot off the heat to add the coffee grounds. "There did, yeah. Pretty sure it relocated to Halo, though." Like all the good shit the Grounds had, it left to go elsewhere eventually. People, guilds, even rulers. And there's that bleeding heart again. (Or maybe it's a bitter one).
"The ache in your ears," he adds emphatically on the subject of the cold and where it hurts. "Don't think I've ever wrapped up so warm as last Deepfrost, and it's nowhere near as cold in the Grounds as elsewhere." And because he'd spoken about it just a second ago, "You ever end up as far up as Halo?"
"Oh yeah?" Though Morgen's lips have pulled down in a frown, his overall expression is vaguely interested. "Seems to be the trend. Ain't met a single Ancient so far who's...y'know, ancient." Smirking to himself as if this was some well-timed joke, the wrangler glances over his shoulder toward the mare before huffing out a sigh. "Yeah, but don't let her hear y'say that. Found her all tangled in some barbed wire as a filly. She'd have died if I hadn't gotten to her in time, though on some days I think she'd have preferred that rather than bein' stuck with me." Morgen grins fondly despite the mare's ornery snort in his direction.
"Ah." Is all the wrangler has to say on the subject of guild relocations, before nodding in weary agreement and unconsciously rubbing one of his ears with his hand. "Nah. Couldn't ever take the herd through the portals when they were up, and if y'can imagine, they don't take to boats." Could he force them over the mountain passes? Mayhap he could, but why? "Some days I think I might like a vacation some'er like Torchline, but I ain't sure I'm cut out for that kind of heat neither."
"I guess when the war ended most of the Ascended who lived had to make a choice," Fox agrees, though his smile has taken something of a bitter edge as he adds the coffee grounds to the pot and gives it a stir, before leaving it to brew. "I've never met an ancient Ancient either. Maybe they're smart and keep themselves to themselves," he ventures, before sitting back and glancing across to the unicorn once again.
"Ah, still - must be nice to have the company," he remarks about their companion bond, before realising how much it said about him rather than Morgen, and sheepishly pinning his attention downwards again. Leaning back on one hand and huffing out a sigh that blows a lock of chestnut hair off his forehead, he thinks on the idea of vacations in general, finding himself amused without meaning to.
"I don't think I've ever been on one," he says. "A vacation, I mean. You should try out the Greatwood - I reckon that'd be pretty kind to you and the herd, if you took them up that way."
Dangerously close to caring about things he had no business even having opinions about, Morgen poked out his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before cocking his head to the side. "That why yer after that ascended? To get her to make that choice?"
Chuckling, the wrangler looks between his feet and pulls a face at the heels of his boots. "You'd think that, but have'n the thoughts and feelin's of an opinionated..well, it ain't like she's a woman, but it's near enough." The wrangler says in a low voice, clearly concerned that Sweets might overhear.
"Now there's an idea." It's unclear whether or not Morgen means the idea of a vacation in general, or if it being the Greatwood. He might have said more, but the smell of coffee had tugged his attention firmly from the conversation at hand. Reaching for his flask and giving it a suggestive shake, Morgen twists around to fish a pair of mismatched cups out of his bag, offering them to Fox.
"Ah, suddenly you being alone out here makes much more sense," Fox teases, keeping his own voice low and secretive as if the mare behind them can hear and understand them both. Which, if what Morgen has to say about her, could definitely be true and he should definitely be wary about it.
Hazarding a glance over at Sweets, his attention is only drawn back by the sight of the two cups, Fox smiling his approval and accepting them both. Pouring a measure of coffee into each one, he sets them down for Morgen to dirty them up with the whiskey, only for the man's first remark to properly ping against the walls of his mind.
He doesn't want to make mention of it, because he's decided he likes the wrangler, but gods if he hasn't travelled days just for this. "Never said she was a her," he says to his coffee, referring to the Ascended Morgen has never seen.
Morgen dirties them up and then some, opting to add an additional splash to each before holding out Fox's cup for the man to take.
And now the pleasant path these two have come to begins to fork. There are no trail signs to point the way, nor does one road look particularly better than the other. On any given day the wrangler would have left the decision up to his mare, but on this particular navigational issue Sweet's was uncharacteristically silent.
"No?" Puljling his coffee cup to his lips, Morgen's tone is more or less believably ignorant, if only because his mistake was quite genuine. "Must just have women on the brain." He adds with a shrug, and whether the next thing he says is meant to be manipulative or helpful is anyone's guess. "I did meet a new-ancient near the fire thing in the centre of the gambit a few seasons back. Key-ah-dah I think her name was."
There's a psychological experiment somewhere that says you're more likely to overlook prejudices if you can find common ground with someone, and that's very likely at play here. Whether it's the soft humour between them, the talk of fillies caught in barbed wire and bleeding hearts, the shared meal, or whether Fox is just tired in more than a physical sense, he's loathe to shatter this quiet peace he's found just yet.
"Must be it," he agrees after a moment of prolonged silence, making a conscious decision to overlook what would ordinarily be cause to dig so much deeper into a simple use of a pronoun. "The gambit?" he hazards, choosing the location but keeping the name in the back of his mind nonetheless. Accepting his coffee and raising the mug in thanks, he doesn't bother to blow on it before taking a generous sip and humming out his approval.
"I meant to ask, actually - is there a map anywhere of King's End? The Grounds is pretty slow on the uptake for that sort of thing."
Muffling a yawn behind the back of his hand, Morgen chases it with a slow drink of coffee and bobs his head agreeably enough. Should he and Fox one day become companions or daresay friends, the other man would learn that the wrangler was far too linear a thinker to ever be manipulative, and indeed the way Morgen breezed onto the next topic of conversation was merely because Fox had led him that way.
"Ayup. Big maze thing down south by the coast. Dunno which came first, it or the Labyrinth in the Grounds, but they're one and the same." Morgen elaborates, though the words are partially mumbled against the rim of his cup.
"Uhh...might be if y'can find a trader wanderin' through. I can always sketch you one if y'got some parchment. This place is big but it ain't terribly complicated."
"No shit." Raising his eyebrows, it's the comparison between the gambit and the Labyrinth that draws his attention, and he makes a mental note to go and look at it even if it's not to look for the Ascended he'd been tracking. "Does it have the same bullshit that goes on in the Labyrinth?" he asks, and then because Morgen very well might not be aware, "The hedges move and there are all sorts of weird monsters in there."
Taking another drink of coffee - not going nearly as slow as his counterpart after choosing to live his life in a perpetual rush - Fox nods and sets down the cup to rummage in his bag again. "If you wouldn't mind," he says, pulling out a scrap of rolled up parchment and a pencil that's almost been sharpened down to a nub. "Doesn't have to be much - just the landmarks and any shit to watch out for."
Speaking of which, "Besides those enenra things, should I be keeping an eye out for monsters that might want to eat me?"
'Yep.' The wrangler agrees with an emphatic bob of his eyebrows. "Only real difference is the big pyre of flame in the center. It's in this...bowl, I guess." Gesturing with one hand and the side of his mug to indicate a large round-ish shape, Morgen shrugs. "Apparently y'can jump through if you're an abandoned and be strengthened. But if y'ask me, it's a bunch of bullshit." It was the sort of thing that sounded like it could be true, especially in a place like Caido, but Morgen was pretty sure he'd just end up being burnt to shit if he ever tried it. "That's where I met the new-ancient. She was playin' with the fire, since..well, you obviously know."
Taking the parchment, Morgen sets his coffee down and gives the sheet a few quick swipes with the back of his hand as if that might clean it off (rather than simply adding the day's grime to it). Drawing some U-shaped mounds for the Mourn and some pointier ones for the Barrows, Morgen pauses for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "Eat'cha? Nah. I mean, once upon a time the KingMaker roamed these parts, but that bastard died during the war." And thank Mort for that. "There's a few Cockatrice that roam around. Sorta like if a basilisk fucked a bird. They ain't common though."
Going back to his map, Morgen sketches in an oval of flowers and some ripples to indicate where water touched the Boondocks. The only real places of note he thought to add were the refuge, the dreaming well, and the last step.
