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!
His explanation was all the encouragement she required. Her vocals were a burst of ardent energy, obvious fervor for impending destruction, even if it was just scraps and garbage. “Sounds good to me!” Melita’s attention diverted to clearing a path with her feet, ensuring there was some space where nothing else could catch and send an inferno where it was not required. “All right, here we go!” Fangorn leapt back, because he was well aware of her flying limbs and potential for raucous endeavors; she was action and reaction, lowering the flint to the ground as she began to strike a rock against its existence.
Sparks flew; it didn’t take long at all for the dried goods and trash to be eaten up by the conflagration’s uprising. She watched, coaxed with a few exhales, lowering herself to obtain adequate access to the tiny embers, then retreated when it began to devour and consume the debris. It was pleasant and satisfying to witness the fringes of LongNight and its outreach suddenly engulfed by fire, as if it could dissipate, disappear, behind more and more moments; the ugliness forgotten, forged away for another day, another season. She folded her arms and simply watched, eyes paying attention to where the blaze crept, at the ready to heave dirt or a bucket over its ravenous exploits. “There, we did it,” she announced, proud and triumphant, confident and self-assured, chin slightly raised, a daring little speck of dust fanning flames.
Melita's clearing of the rubble satisfied Emmett and he took a step back as she went to light the fire, though he still took a further one when he saw the sparks appearing from Melita's flint. He understood the strange sentient gourd's fear (what was that thing? He hadn't ever seen a vegetable with legs).
As the fire caught he found a simple pleasure in watching it spread, something easy and almost satisfying, destruction without consequence. He nodded and smiled at his new friend, put his hands on his hips and leaned to one side.
"Well hey, I bet Vervain'll be happy about that. It's awful nice of ya to want to do alla this, y'know. Unless y'just wanted to burn stuff." With a little laugh, he nodded down to Fangorn. "...Can y'tell me what...that is?"
Destruction hadn’t been on the forefront of her mind when she’d begun cleaning – but it was stuck there now, in a blaze of glory and purpose, steadily eating, devouring, and swallowing up the remains of Long Night. Perhaps that was what they were all supposed to do – forgive and forget, watch the shards of those terrible days become consumed by everything else. Her eyes watched the fire with a renewed sense of purpose, inhaling the smoke, the fumes, the embers, with a savage ferocity, arms folded, remembering the chase of ashes and ruins, the swell of disaster and mayhem clawing its way through her childhood tribulations. Never again, she promised herself. Never again would she allow herself to sink so low, to clamber about so ridiculously; she’d try, she’d overcome, she’d strive, she’d settle determination firmly in her feet, in her fingers, in her grasp, and refuse to balk any longer.
Emmett’s words distracted her, not expecting the conversation to shift upon assisting Vervain or Fangorn. Her eyes flicked away from the burning rubble, from the singsong rush of resurgence and revival, the traces of a Sun God’s kismet smoldering and seething in her skin. “I like to help.” She shrugged, the light smile reclaiming her features. “The fire is an added bonus.” There was the impish, hazardous quality igniting across her lips again; more potency than ferocity in its hold now.
At the mention of her bonded though, she hadn’t realized she’d forgotten to give a true introduction to the gourd. She didn’t take him for granted, that was never the case, but often times she was so deterred and distracted by her purposes and motivations, and frequently others were the same, that the pumpkin wasn’t mentioned, or they paid no mind to the bounding, leaping, feral, little thing. “This is Fangorn.” She bent down and scooped him up into her arms, and he attempted not to show his comfort, instead allowing his mouth become a gnarled, mangled line, complete with ivory fangs jutting out in front. “He’s my companion!” One hand reached along his stem and scratched, and the gourd closed its eyes, leaning into the motions. “Do you remember all the vampire pumpkins? Well, this guy managed to hide and outlast them all.” She laughed, airy and ethereal, singsong and harmonic. “So I took him in.” Her eyes glanced around, as if she’d never thought up the notion, immediately inquiring thereafter. “Do you have a companion?”
Emmett chuckled just a little at her admission of the fire being an 'added bonus'. There was something satisfying in seeing it burn, he could agree with that. Perhaps he could do the same thing with items from his home, let them all be consumed by the flames...would it be cathartic? Or painful?
He had not yet realised most things from now on would be both.
She introduced her...thing as Fangorn, explained his origins. Honestly, it raised more questions than answered them, but Emmett was too tired to ask them. "Oh, uh...hey Fangorn. I don' got a companion, no. Unless you count the cows." Melita would probably not count the cows.
After this there were another few easy bits of small talk as he watched the bonfire burn, the debris finally turning black then cracking into the mass of heat, the lump growing smaller and smaller until it was a few smouldering chunks on a patch of burned earth. The clean up was easy enough, just a few rocks around to make sure the last embers didn't spread and the junk back into the cart (where he would dispose of it at the farm).
Nodding thanks to Melita, he went to get a nap in the inn, smelling of soot and a job well done.
