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!
Deimos is going to be insufferably smug about their previous conversation having been practically fated in terms of timing, but all Evie can do is sit and panic over the fat, fuzzy blob in her arms as she takes the skyboat home. Her companion - HER COMPANION? - seems entirely done with her and more than happy to ignore the freak-out going on in the Evergreen's mind, because he goes back and forth between peering around the skyboat and snoozing in her arms.
Evie doesn't remember the trudge home, only recalling being grateful that whether it was temperament or bond-magic, the jaguar had not tried to dart away into the rush of civilians on the street. She goes through the motions of knocking snow off her boots, entering, shrugging awkwardly out of her coat without dropping the kitten, and then she just...holds it out in front of her and continues staring.
"Deimos? Love, can you come here?" There's a slightly hysterical note to her voice that she will feel bad about later because it will surely worry him, but as her and the cat stare at one another with very different expressions, she can't regret anything that gets him to her side sooner.
Nestled deep within their newly-finished study, the Sword had already established himself a spot, including desk, shelving, and a variety of books – though some ledgers were already spread out over the work surface, long blueprints unfurled and unrolled, paperweights pinpointed on opposing sides as he sketched and diagramed. Belial was already curled up in front of the hearth, and Zuriel was outside, tending to the flakes of hay he’d given her some minutes before. It’d be an opportunity to snag a little free time and scratch another intention off the list of to-dos, when Evie’s voice rang out.
Mildly hysterical. Slightly panicked.
The semblance of apprehension coiled deep in his chest and he was out of the room swiftly, efficiently, leaving the peryton well behind as long strides carried him down the hall. Mere seconds away it might’ve been, but it was more than enough instances for him to conjure all sorts of trepidations, imagining the worst (perhaps the Citadel was under attack), to something ridiculous (like a pair of idiots committing another foolish act), and everything else in between. Swallowing down the trail of bile already threatening his throat, he careened along the entrance, head raised –
Only to find Evie holding a cub.
Unfurling the long, slow breath he’d been holding, he simply leaned against the doorframe, arms folding across his chest, the deep rumble of his tones on the edge of amusement. “What did you pick up now?"
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
The sound of his footsteps alone, hurried and lengthened, is enough to have her taking a trembling breath into lungs that feel far too narrow and tight. He's coming. He'll be here in just a moment, and the world will start to make sense again.
Lifting her eyes away from the cub as she senses his arrival in the doorway, Evie shoots him an expression that is clearly begging for help. In her hands, the cub makes a mewling, growling noise and its tail flicks. Evie can feel the disgruntlement across the bond - she's going to lose it, she's already losing it, how do Attuned do this every day? - and brings the cub back to her chest, which makes the feeling ease back into contentment. The Evergreen looks back to Deimos, his amusement making her groan - though it comes out a little more like a whimper. "I think - oh my Gods. I think he's mine?" It's a gracelessly sputtered sentence, and she walks a little closer to Deimos as if in a daze. "It - he - feels so weird. He's in my head!! Or - I'm in his?" If she didn't have an armful of cat she'd be shoving her hands into her hair by now. "I didn't know what else to do but bring him home," she ends lamely, because even her panic had not overridden the certainty that the cub belonged at her side eternally.
He really tried not to laugh, his mouth contorting into something very muffled and strangled the moment she became sputtering. Gone was the consternation, or the brief vexation that she’d had him immensely worried, and in its place was smug scrutiny, and the juxtaposition of inquiry. If he were the merciful type, he might’ve let her off easy with explanations and clarifications, but there was some amusement in permitting her to struggle for a moment while he gazed over the feline. “A companion,” he uttered thereafter, with a Cheshire quirk to his brow and grin, holding out his hands in case she wanted a moment to breathe, and would gladly take the youth into his arms.
Hello little one he echoed in turn to the feline child, studying it for a few moments, trying to hazard a guess as to what she’d ended up claiming. Tide jaguar, maybe, but he hadn’t seen any on his own – just from the outlines and sketches amidst the piles of books within the guild. The picture of calm and stoicism, besides the obvious juvenility already wearing through, his rumble echoed again across their threshold. “How did you find him?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
The smugness had been anticipated, but she still shoots him a pitifully weak glare for it. One that drops away into gracious relief the second he extends his arms, handing over the dark-furred parcel into his hands without a second thought. She doesn't feel the clawing panic and emptiness she had experienced when trying to usher and shoo him back home into the jungle, which has her tense shoulders melting with overt relief.
In contrast, the cub rolls over languorously in Deimos' arms, a pleased purr kicking up the second their minds meet and Deimos utters his hellos. He is too young to have picked up any level of human speech, but there is a wash of emotion that spills over onto Evie's side as well that comes filled with recognition and lazy, happy greeting. Tail already beginning to sway and flick in contented waves against the Sword's forearms. "Of course he loves you," Evie grumbles to herself, and rubs both her hands over her face to try and dispel the exhaustion from a long flight spent stressing over not somehow hurting, dropping, or otherwise mangling the poor creature in her care.
Leaning against Deimos' side she looks down at the cub in an amusing juxtaposition of how new parents would gaze lovingly at their newborn. "There was a cave in on a den near the geysers on Rainbow Road. I heard him crying and spent some time moving all the rocks and dirt to get him out. Then, well...this happened." Evie waves her hand around vaguely, clearly implying the inception of the bond that had so startled her.
The intense pride didn’t wither at her glare, only amplified the moment the youth was placed in his arms, rolled over, and flicked its unwinding tail. Content, he brought the cub closer to his chest, the Cheshire grin in full flare at her grumbling, giving her a spare moment to collect herself from things that certainly seemed overwhelming. It’d been many years since his first experience with Zuriel, the way the bond wound tight and shared within minds, emotions lingering and toying and played like strings; and Evie hadn’t been privy to any of those semblances. So in ample understanding, he merely listened, one hand freed to scratch at the youth’s ears or under his chin.
Quiet, though indulgent enough to breathe a whisp of air into Evie’s features so that her locks went on a wild tumble, he listened, patient and pondering. Circumstances of how one acquired companions seemed to be in a wide variety – this one being snagged from a cavern, most likely tired, lost, wandering, hurt, or simply away from its mother, and finding ample opportunity where it could. Smart and cunning, perhaps, in its childlike state, to find another willing and able. His smile drew to a less juvenile state, contorting into boyish imploring. “Congratulations,” and he meant it, even if she was frazzled and out of her wits. Another side to the Evergreen he’d yet to truly see, and he watched with piercing scrutiny. “Has he had anything to eat or drink?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
He certainly hadn't seen her so out of her depth before, and Evie was equally unaccustomed to feeling it. She considers herself to be rather adaptable, and that quality has provided her with the ability to take on most any situation no matter how anomalous. The one thing she couldn't have prepared for was sharing her soul and consciousness with an entirely separate, self-sufficient (well...) entity.
Wrinkling her nose at the buffet of air against her freckled cheeks and loose, wispy tendrils of red hair, the Evergreen doesn't bother retaliating. The trip itself hadn't been physically taxing, but she finds herself tired all the same. "Thank you," she murmurs from where her face is trying to meld with his upper arm, finding she still can't truly separate her eyes from the cub. "I got him to drink before we left Torchline, but he wouldn't touch anything I had on me. I wasn't sure if he was just stressed or picky." It would be truly ironic if he was given both she and the Sword were such eager foodies. "I only had jerky though. Do you think he still needs milk at this age? He's rather big. Maybe we can try mashed up fish?" The cub gives no indication of which would be preferable, instead wrapping too-big paws around Deimos' arm as he scratches his chin, little fangs gnawing on the man's knuckles in gentle play. Evie cracks a fond grin. Okay, maybe she can do this.
Experiences were tried and true tests of depths and characterization, and even if she felt frazzled, she seemed to be settling inward – the platitudes and multitudes of a sudden new bond, of voices and emotions no longer entirely yourself were overbearing on many levels. Souls split, only to share their burdens, frustrations, earnestness, and selfless devotions were something else altogether, so he remained quiet as she assessed, playfully toying with the cubs’ paws, creating a bit of string in his gilded palms to tease and taunt, keeping the youth occupied as the Evergreen collected, reaffirmed, and restored her earthly sanctions.
“Sounds like you both had quite an adventure,” and he wouldn’t be surprised by anyone being off their food after such an instance. His eyes glanced over to their kitchen, which always housed massive varieties, given their tastes and appetites, and though he nearly offered Belial’s share (ready for when the peryton awakened), he thought that wouldn’t go over very well, or endear the feline to the stag. So the Sword nodded, jutting his jawline to where the fish had been kept. “Worth trying. If it is too much now, it may just take him time to settle.” Very much a cat thing.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
The still-unnamed cub seems to regain some spirit and focus as the string is introduced, and Evie smiles down at him, charmed by his antics. Every passing moment feels a little easier, and being able to focus on another task is a surprising relief for her mind.
"Let's give it a shot." It takes more effort than she had anticipated to peel herself away from both man and cub, and she's not sure which of the two is harder to distance herself from as she walks into the kitchen. There is always plenty of fish in supply, already de-boned and beheaded, so she retrieves a smaller carcass and sets it aside while she washes her hands and prepares a bowl. "I guess I'll have to name him, huh?" It comes to her suddenly, prompting her to glance over her shoulder once more, considering.
Eventually, those notions stirring around her head would feel normal; a residual set of thoughts to complement or abut her own. For now, amidst the new ventures, the tides and tasks of everything fresh, foreign, and new, would seem briefly insurmountable, until broken apart by smaller and smaller layers – and the meticulous Sword understood them well. As she relinquished her presence to the kitchen, Deimos followed with the bundle in his arms and the string bountifully tossed back and forth.
However, he eventually settled himself along the floor, permitting the cub to find its surroundings in the close sanction and shelter of the Wardens’ presence, tethered attentions there with the volleying thread. With focus somewhat alleviated, his eyes darted back and forth, watching keenly as Evie prepared, a brief snort following. “Yes.” While Deimos had named his companions after family members, protecting the heritage of memories and foundations, he wasn’t certain the Evergreen would branch into those particular subjects. “Do you have anything in mind?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
05-02-2023, 10:19 PM (This post was last modified: 05-02-2023, 10:40 PM by Evie.)
Evie
through her, in a rush of musk and saffron
The moment the cub is placed on the floor he pounces on the wriggling string, little white claws clicking against the floorboards. At least until Evie moves from the sink to the island, which has the babe’s attention swiveling immediately to her, abandoning the toy to chase after her ankles - though he only pounces once before winding between her legs, purring up a storm.
Evie stares down at him, heart melting, and has to refocus on the fish that she begins to chunk up and mash into the bowl to a more palatable consistency. “I had a few names picked out that I liked ever since I was young for if I ever had kids,” she confesses, and with bowl in hand slides down the cupboards to sit cross legged with Deimos, putting the bowl of food between them for the cub to investigate. He does so immediately, sniffing and huffing curiously. “Maybe not one of my favorites, though. What about Micah?” One of her top five, but not the top three.
Not put out by the cub’s sudden directional change, he snorted, remaining on the floor, seeing if he could tempt him back with more prey endeavors of the string. Minute pauses, before amplified, panicked motions, quick jerks back and forth, before watching Evie’s cutting motions, and then the subsequent mashing. There was a joke somewhere in between his teeth and tongue, lodged there for a moment or two, before he opted to release it anyway. “Not out of your novels I hope,” with a wrinkle to his nose, making space and room for her to sit by him.
At least the cub would have ample places to venture under their watchful eyes, even if it was merely the kitchen. Intentionally brushing his shoulder against hers, his gaze meandered back to the jaguar, intending to see if it would take the fish, or if there was going to be need for another, additional preference. Ningo could be enticing, and there was always plenty in supply. “Micah sounds nice. Try it out.” His jaw jutted towards the newfound companion, for her to tie one more knot into the newfound threads.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
Equally undaunted and precocious, the cub peeks out from each side of Evie’s legs to eye the twitching string, utilizing her as cover. Taking the opportunity provided by the Evergreen sitting, he pounces out of her shadow to trap the string beneath his paws, immediately flopping onto his side to kick at it with his back paws. Evie snorts a laugh and gets comfortable on the floor to watch, only briefly lamenting the distractible nature of the babe.
“And if it was?” she feigns imperiousness, though her mouth twitches at the corners, betraying her. Some of them had certainly come from her novels, if only because she was loathe to name a child after anyone in the small, insular community of the Grounds, even if the intent wasn’t there.
Tapping her fingers on the edge of the bowl to try and reclaim the cub’s attention, she tries it out as suggested. “Micah, come here. Come try this, love.” There’s a brief hesitation as baby blue eyes turn to look at her as if considering ignoring for the sake of further play. Evie does her best not to tug on the bond, hoping to make the response genuine. Then, giant kitten paws right themselves and he comes trotting over back to the bowl, taking the first bite before rumbling out a purr that doesn’t stop as he begins to devour the fish. Evie huffs a laugh and relaxes back into the cabinet. “I think that’s a win.” For both the name and the meal.
“I would merely question your taste,” was made in a teasing facet, nose wrinkling in her direction as he slid the thread along the floor. Eventually though, he relinquished it for the youth to successfully hunt and maul, intrepid kicking and swindling, an earned relish and satisfaction of sufficient torture.
He grew partial to stillness though as a name trial began, albeit briefly, for he didn’t want any of his actions to disrupt portions of the bond. Though likely already solidified from moments of shared introspections and emotions, the tethers still had to be aligned, and he was a calm presence, an arched brow, a monolithic figure, as kitten paws maneuvered across the kitchen floor, bites and purrs signaling contentment with either fish, title, or both.
The notions permitted another snort to volley through his form. “Should be content for a while then,” and then extending his attentions back to her, his head tilted in that vague, residual sense of ease. “How are you?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
