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!
A merman swam slowly along the port market, considering the goods laid out nearest the canal. His long steel grey hair was pulled back in a long, elegant tail and held out of his eyes by a silver circlet with a single green gem inset in the center that matched his eyes. Dark brown skin was criss-crossed by a number of old scars that had been tattooed over in gold and faded into an even darker scaled tail below the waist. He wore a simple harness with several pouches attached, and a trident was slung across his back along with a large waterproof map tube.
The fact that the trident's tines were made of starlight might have given his identity away, but in the time-honored tradition of Torchline there weren't many who gave him much deference, though some nodded greetings to the muscular Mer.
He paused in his search, eyes narrowing as he spotted a merchant with a stall a short distance away... close enough to see, but not quite close enough for Hadama to peruse the wares of the chandler from the limits of the canal.
Open!
During her vacation in Torchline, Soleil has had to adjust to the strange mannerisms of the people that seem to so directly contrast those of the Halovians she has become accustomed to. They are friendly but not friendly, sneaky but plainly obvious, like shadowy people with too-loud footsteps. Soleil, for all her sunshine, has never quite outgrown her canine brain, and these people confuse her. Not that she isn't delighted to experience such newness, but it does exhaust her at times.
The man in the water with the glowing trident is a perfect example of newness, and so Soleil immediately curves down the beach towards him, cocking her head in a curious cloud of curls.
Ah, a merman. She had seen so few as a child before her father had found her, so the novelty has yet to wear off. "Do you need help?" Blunt, but clearly motivated by a kind heart.
'Blunt but well-meaning' was a wavelength that Hadama was far more comfortable with than court intrigues and insincere smiles, in spite of his experience with the latter in the last year and a half. He turned to the young woman and paused a moment at her beauty before inclining his head in confirmation of her guess. "Yes. I wish to purchase a large candle." He nodded towards the merchant he'd been watching and trying to catch the eye of. "From there."
Looking back to the pretty human he tilted his head at her, manners coming easily now that he had answered her question in more detail than he usually did. "I am Hadama." Perhaps the name would mean something to her if she was local... but then again, perhaps not.
His straightforward nature is immediately apparent when he responds, and Soleil's strangely penetrating golden stare softens into a radiant, small smile. Finally, someone she can actually talk to! Maneuvering closer on long legs, the seafoam tickles at her feet as her eyes take in his dark skin and gilded scars. It is only because of his personality and appearance, but she feels a sense of immediate kinship, something that says you, I know you.
"There should be a system for making your presence known. He is not ignoring you, is he?" Amber eyes narrow slightly at the smallest hint of perceived injustice. Soleil intends to help him if he will allow it, but his answer will define her approach when she reaches that table.
Squatting - because it feels more polite in her mind to be on his level - Soleil extends one hand as her smile returns moments later. "Hi, Hadama. I'm Soleil. You are very handsome - you would think that would make you hard to overlook." While it's not said with the innocence of childhood, there is a neutral air to the compliment that makes it clear she is neither flirting nor naive. "I can buy your candle for you if you'd like."
Her smile was as lovely as the rest of her, Hadama couldn't help but notice. The artist in him saw the potential for something in polished obsidian - a leopard seal mermaid, with a cloud of dark curls, perhaps? - but her forthright nature was something no mere stone could capture, and it was something he appreciated immediately.
He gave her question solemn consideration as he looked back to the chandler, then gave a slow shake of his head. "No. Merfolk do not normally buy candles. He is not used to looking this way." And it was probably why the man had set up farther from the canal, allowing merchants whose wares were more suited to Merfolk tastes to have the closer spots.
When he looked back she was coming down to his level in a display of courtesy he was not always afforded. He took her hand with quiet pleasure, his own palm callused and firm, though his fingers were webbed and damp with seawater as he gave the customary shake of the landfolk. "Thank you, Soleil." He inclined his head briefly in acknowledgment of her compliment, accepting it without embarrassment. He was a vain man, and proud of his appearance. "You are quite stunning as well." Nor was he flirting with her, simply stating a truth with calm certainty.
"I would appreciate that," he admitted to her offer, and this time the inclination of his head was much deeper, as was his gratitude. "I have brought these in trade. It should be enough." Reaching down into the water he unhooked a net bag from his harness and hefted it onto the side of the canal. Four large conch shells were contained within, their inhabitants still alive - and ready to eat or prepare for dinner. "If you can bargain him down lower, you may keep what is left," he added, a twinkle in his eye.
Hackles sufficiently smoothed as Hadama defends the man's lack of attention, Soleil's slim shoulders relax in deference to the lack of fur she has still yet to grow accustomed to. Instead, she takes the opportunity to marvel at his webbed fingers and the way they feel against her own soft hands. While she has never minded dirtying her hands, Halovian mittens kept the skin protected from most injuries and nearly all weather, so the contrast between the webbing and callouses on his own is deeply intriguing to her.
His returned compliment draws her attention back, rewarded with a smile as bright as her namesake. "Thank you. Are brown-skinned people more common here? There are not many in Halo." Eyeing his hair with some small measure of envy (not only is the color beautiful, but she can imagine it is built to withstand salt and water - unlike her own) she pulls her hand back and remains in her crouched pose. Hadama is tall enough to nearly make it unnecessary, but she is not short for a young woman, and the sentiment is worth it to her. "Which I find strange, because they burn easily." Visually she has seen a far more diverse population in Torchline, but he is clearly a native with more information to share.
Peering at the shells he produces from beneath the surface, Soleil takes them with nearly reverently careful hands so that she doesn't risk dropping them. Straightening, Soleil's amber eyes sparkle with delight at the chance to secure one of them for herself. "I will do my best!" she assures with far too much heart and immediately goes striding off towards the seller like a steam train, unstoppable. Hadama will not be privy to her bartering, but it involves a rather strange combination of iron will and soft, pleading eyes - it's effective, clearly, as she returns with a shell in one hand and the candle in the other, expression triumphant. Gracefully sitting cross-legged without the use of her hands, saltwater tickling her thighs, Soleil extends the candle to him. "Thank you for the shell. How do you cook it?" All the food she'd been given as a child in the care of the Halenani had been prepared out of sight, and Halo has at best deep sea fish in their markets given the cold waters there.
It was not as common now as it had once been with the local humans, but visitors to Torchline were still often curious about the Mer and it seemed Soleil was no different. Hadama waited patiently while she examined his hand, unhurried at her comparison and content to let her take her time.
Her question was a little surprising, but only because Hadama had rarely had reason to think about it in such terms. He was quiet for long moments, considering his answer before opening his mouth. "They are common here, yes," he confirmed thoughtfully. "I do not know how common they are elsewhere, though." Or how uncommon. Though he had traveled more widely than most of his people he had still only met a few inhabitants of each of the regions to the north and east of the Arclight. Admittedly, most of them had been quite pale. Whether they were representative of their people he did not know.
She could have taken the bag of barter goods and run, and Hadama could have done little about it. He found himself inclined to trust her, however, and to be content to wait patiently for her successful return.
Which came faster than he'd hoped, and with satisfying success. He accepted the large candle - as long as Soleil's arm, and a little thicker - and shrugged the map case from his back to carefully package the waxen cylinder in its shades of blue that went from light to dark. Once it was safely put away he turned his attention back to his young benefactor and his emerald eyes glinted with quiet humor. "Among the Mer, we eat it raw," he informed her solemnly. "If you are hungry, we can break the shell. If you are patient, you may have both shell and meat."
Though he has no way of knowing, both her curiosity regarding his webbed hands and the amount of brown and black citizens tie back to still eternally feeling like a wolf stuck in the skin of a young woman. Always marveling at how different humans were, how varied and new - especially in this new world, which she has lived in longer than her homeland but which still mystifies her. For now she merely nods - hair a bouncing cloud around her pretty features - clearly content with his answer.
By the time she returns with the desired item a few more people have taken notice of them, but Soleil seems nearly blind to their attention and whispers (and, in the merchant's case, apologetic glances). Plainly watching the way he packages the candle, her intense gaze lifts to his as he speaks and shuffles closer until she is firmly in the water now.
Delight makes her face glow at the idea of eating it raw. "I love eating stuff raw!" Probably a very strange phrase to hear, but Soleil only pauses to grimace down at the conch (though it comes off as more of a pout). "Human biology is so soft sometimes though. It can often make us sick." Tilting her head back to him with a trusting smile, Soleil picks up the conch to hand it back to Hadama. "If it won't make me sick I'd like to try it. I'm not hungry - I'd like to keep the shell please." Manners impeccable, because her father would chastise her if they were not, regardless of her age.
The water sparkled as Soleil slid into it, starshine faintly visible even in the daytime as it swirled around her legs. Hadama finished with the candle and gave the young woman and her prize his full attention, and if he was surprised at her declaration it didn't show in his serene expression.
But emerald eyes sparkled brightly and he tilted his head in silent approval of her choice.
He accepted the conch back as he considered her answer and then gave a slow nod. "The animal attaches inside the shell-- here." He tapped a point near the crown in demonstration. "You can knock a small hole and scrape it free while it is alive. But it is easier to remove once it is dead." So saying he scooped a little water into the shell and for a moment his eyes flashed sapphire. Ice bloomed from the shell's opening and frost coated the shell as he handed it back to Soleil while he retrieved a small knife from his harness.
"Mmn. Do you have another shape?" Her phrasing was strange but not unheard of. Some Attuned - and some Mer - preferred their animal shapes over their humans ones, after all.
The glitter of starlight makes it difficult to give him her full attention, but she is determined not to ignore him the way the others had. No matter how beautiful the ocean looks lit up from within.
The enticement of food and a learning experience are enough, and Soleil watches raptly as Hadama's dark, scarred, expert hands maneuver the shell and point out its weaknesses. He is a good teacher. One she would prefer, personally, as sometimes hers had been far too lengthy in their ramblings. Taking the shell back when it is frozen and then handed to her, Soleil does not cringe away from the chill on her palms. As a Halovian, it barely even registers on her scale of cold.
It's a question she has been asked before because of her blatant peculiarities, so Sol is far from surprised. "No. I used to, before I was brought here. A wolf, like my family." Watchful eyes zone onto the knife he pulls out, habitual instead of wary. "But my father is not very faithful to the heralds, so I have yet to meet any to ask if they will give it back to me."
His knife retrieved, he set it on the side of the canal and held out a hand for the shell again. In the Longheat temperatures its current chill was a comfortable coolness against sun-warmed skin. "Some use tools. It's foot can be sharp," he murmured, melting the ice with another touch of magic and letting the water run out of the shell. The conch appeared as he tilted it, a mussel shell-like protrusion dangling from the opening and he grasped it between two callused fingers and pulled with a slow, steady flex of bunched muscles.
"Mmn." His comment was a simple acknowledgment that she was an outlander, but her mention of the heralds had him tilting his head as the conch came free and slid into his hand - a ropy, floppy looking creature, like an oversized mollusc.
"I follow Safrin. She is Torchline's patron," he explained as he set the shell aside and picked up his knife. "Here-- and here-- the dark colored flesh is good for bait, but not eating." As he spoke he sliced away the portions he indicated, working with swift, deft fingers to reveal the large hunk of firm, white meat within. "She would hear you, I think."
Sol wrinkles her nose slightly at the conch, trying to figure out where this supposed 'foot' is. The shell can certainly inspire her to believe it has sharp appendages, but its insides are so meaty that she is doubtful. Perhaps Torchers are simply more tender-handed than Halovians?
Intrigue brightens her expression at the mention of Safrin. "My dad has gone to see her. But only her. Can you tell me what you thought of her?" He can claim that Safrin would hear her out, but Soleil isn't sure that should be her only basis for seeking out Vi's herald. It's difficult to look between his concentrating face and the motions of his hands, but Soleil has always had a rather intense preference for eye contact during conversation, so it's an inevitable ping-pong match.
The mussel-shell-like bit that Hadama had grabbed with his callused fingers looked like its edges were indeed sharp - though no other part of the animal was as it came loose and began to be sliced apart. The small pile of offal beside the canal grew, attracting the attention of a pair of hels who began to circle lower and lower overhead, calling loudly in greed.
Hadama ignored them, working with swift economy of motion until a large chunk of thick white flesh remained, roughly the size of his palm. "Mm. She can be distant. Hard to reach at times, much like her stars. But she is kind. She has helped us protect and improve Torchline since her return," he said slowly, considering each word with care and obvious respect. "She has given me gifts, to defend myself and my home. And she is beautiful." Such a simple, unworthy word to encompass all that the goddess showed to mortals, but it was the only one he had. "She rewards loyalty. And rewards it well," he finished at last.
He rinsed the knife in the canal and then used it to cut two small pieces of conch meat free, offering one to Sol. He popped the other into his mouth, chewing the soft, rubbery meat with quiet satisfaction. The meat was salty but mild in flavor, somewhere between salmon and crab but lacking the former's overt fishiness.
Eyeing the hels, which remind her of ningo but seemingly more intelligent, Soleil grasps the fleshy remnants and tosses them further afield to watch them dive for it greedily. At least it means they will not be cawed over incessantly, or at risk of flailing wings if they had attempted a risky dive.
"Loyalty seems in sparse supply in this world," Soleil comments lightly, as if it is not wisdom beyond her years. Wolf packs still make more sense to her than these crowded cities with their anonymity and lack of structure. Years of human education have not so much as made a dent in that philosophy. "Have you met any of the others?" It sounds like he is devoted to her, but it does not hurt to ask in her opinion.
Easily distracted by any manner of food, Soleil brightens anew as he presents her with the edible portion, taking the offered portion in her hands and summarily popping it into her mouth. It is chewier than anticipated, but the flavor is quite pleasant, and she shows it in every inch of her face as she enjoys it fully before swallowing. "Wow! How filling is it normally? It seemed like a lot of work for just one. Is that why you break the shells?" She eyes the one he'd managed to save that would be gifted to her, glad they'd preserved it but curious if it was worth it in the end. "It was very delicious though. Thank you for showing me." Her smile is a youthful ray of light, sea breeze tickling her coiled hair against her cheeks.
