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!
Seasons changed and Halo pressed on; enough to forgo and forget the way the festival had rattled, bent, and chased after filaments and particles he didn’t want to reflect upon. Instead, there were evenings for them and nuances spread beneath a half-etched moon, the glow overhead scattered amidst the stars.
He’d long since planned a comforting ambience in their own backyard – another brazier concocted and created from his incantations, formed and contorted in a coppery bronze, pattern set anew with serrated blades and mountain backdrops. The flames flickered easily, reaching toward the broadening sky, while the tent was outfitted with its own array of lights, wrapped along the edges, snow displaced so that it surrounded and encompassed rather than taking over.
Zuriel contentedly munched her hay from her trough, and Belial had already curled up within a row of blankets he’d placed within the provisional shelter. The Sword, of course, was already gathering sticks for impending s’mores charades, especially thin and bark peeled away – glancing over towards Evie amidst the logs, a smile toying with his features, heart beating swiftly, rumbling voice beginning to outline the antics of yesterdays. “Noah made me hold a baby.”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
For all the insistences of vacations and getaways, Evie finds that this - a beautifully decorated tent, firepit, and a clear starry sky all in their own backyard - is as close to perfect as an evening can get in her eyes. Home in every single way that matters. The house they'd built at their backs, their companions at their sides, and each other. What more could she want?
It's a good thing she does not have access to the Attuned bond or surely he would be too sick with sweetness to consider something like s'mores. Sitting crosslegged at the entrance of their little temporary abode with Micah curled up and dozing in her lap, Evie tries not to make too obvious heart-eyes as she watches Deimos prepare further wood for their impending dessert. To his benefit, the Sword somehow finds the perfect sentence to startle her out of her amorous mood, making both her brows rise immediately.
Unsure whether to be amused, delighted, or to commiserate in his pain, Evie merely laughs slightly as she asks, "Already? Gods, they must be so tiny still, I don't think I'd trust anyone with holding them so soon if they were mine. Maybe not even myself." Ironically she'd only trust Deimos himself, and he's the one who was just submitted to such an ordeal. "Just one baby, or both?" The slightly sly smile makes it clear she is finding some measure of amusement in this, but she doesn't envy him the inherent terror of holding a newborn that isn't yours.
Snapping a few twigs away from the stick in his hand, he fed them to the fire, waiting for Evie’s reaction. The rounding of her eyes and following laugh seemed to do the trick, because he’d been uncertain the entire time, and still was now, shaking his head and handing her the bare bough, before maneuvering to perfect his own. “Very little,” and while he’d held tiny creatures before, they’d been animals sent scampering back to mothers; nothing quite as fragile as newborn children. “Slightly terrifying,” and he winked, despite the truth of the matter – because one slip or wrong motion could’ve spelled disaster quickly – and for someone who’d always held a weapon between his hands, it’d been a different trial and tribulation altogether. “Just one,” thank the gods. Noah probably realized two would have sent him reeling out the door.
Content and satisfied with how his stick had turned out, he snagged at the bag of marshmallows hidden along the folds of the tent (purposefully, otherwise he could be assured there wouldn’t be any s’mores to make), and the rest of the ingredients. Settling on the log closest to her and Micah, he sighed, before placing the crackers, chocolate, and sweets in between their forms, as if saddened he had to share, or waiting for the inevitable stealing. Snagging at one before she could do just that, he skewered it upon the top of his branch, and let it sizzle over the fire, his eyes turning back to her all the while. “How are you?”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Taking the smooth stick from his hands, she twirls it idly immediately, never able to resist once something is in her grasp. It wouldn't surprise her at all if he intends it that way given she is already suspicious as to edible thing he's hiding from her - she knows it must be nearby, he'd never plan this without snacks, but he also likely knows she'd sneak as much of it as possible before they are actually supposed to eat it. Thus the stick-distraction.
"I can completely understand the terror," she laughs, though her commiseration is clear despite the amusement she takes from his retelling. "Though he likely trusted you to do it just as much as I do." Despite his own misgivings, Evie can think of no other man she'd trust to hold a newborn and keep it safe. "Now me? The terror is warranted. So I will gladly not be visiting yet." Though things are still weird between her and Cordelia (not for lack of Evie trying to comfort the woman, against her own desires at times) and she's not as close with Noah, so Evie likes to think she's safe.
Spotting the marshmallows the moment they emerge, she inhales a greedy gasp and vainly leans forward, though she can't get any closer with Micah firmly in her lap. She doesn't use her magic this time if only to preserve the beautiful quiet of the night, though she does childishly wiggle her fingers at the end out of her outstretched arm in a silent pleading motion as he begins construction of the sweet treat. Only to pause when he turns to her, blue eyes lit up by the string lights around the outside of the tent, arresting. Setting her hand on his thigh instead, she considers her answer.
Evie wishes, as she often does, that she could share how she feels with him the way an Attuned might. That he might feel the way the love and peace in her chest feels too big for her body, like the cosmos and aurora borealis trying to squeeze themselves into the boundaries of human cells. "Happy," she says instead, and hopes he can hear it in her voice even if he cannot feel it in her heart. "Happier than I ever thought I could be." And she knows it won't stay that way forever, but if this moment could, maybe that would be enough. "And you?"
Given how their last venture with marshmallows had gone (not that he was complaining), obtaining one for himself before chaos struck had been a paramount vision. Twirling the stick in his hands, permitting the sugary confection to become a golden brown, through complete, utter control of flames and heat, his gaze landed solely on her, snorting at the commiseration. “Maybe that makes it worse,” he added, with a wry curl of his nose to indicate self-deprecation, but yielding thereafter to nothing of the sort. “You would probably be a natural.” With the pun indicated there, he still arched his brow, waiting for some other turn of phrase. Given the Evergreen’s penchant for healing, mending, assuring, and soothing, despite all the other antics emboldened within, he presumed the adaptation would be quick and swift.
But to handwave away any other residual worries, especially between Evie and Cordelia (sorted, he thought, at least in the aftermath of the war), his deep rumble persisted along the crackling of the fire. “I delivered our gifts too.” From there, he lowered the stick down to his long fingers, extracting the sticky mass from the bough, and then instead of placing it between crackers and chocolate, opted to eat it whole. “A test,” he murmured around the substance, and snagged at another one immediately to repeat the process, ensuring all the other ingredients were at her disposal and grasp.
Stare going back her way once he’d repeated his gestures, Deimos didn’t expect the striking gaze pinpointed upon him. Cheeks immediately flushing, because years of it still left him blushing, his grin followed the contentment, the tranquility. Maybe one day he would grow used to the notions of love pulsed and pervaded, surrounding him wholeheartedly, instead of surprise and astonishment, as if she knew exactly how to catch him unaware. That he deserved it, and she did too, and together they conquered the multitudes of demons surrounding their lives. “Happy,” an echo and a truth, a quiet rumble for her ears alone.
Thereafter, he leaned forward, intentionally pressing his lips to her nose, and leaving behind marshmallow.
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Evie will certainly not apologize or cease in her belief in him, so his deprecation merely earns a playfully wrinkled nose. Given the humorous nature of the topic she isn't expecting his rebuttal to be so easy and sincere, even with the pun cleverly included. Blinking, taken aback, Evie lapses into temporary silence to consider it. It's instinctive to jokingly claim being bad at something but maybe she really would be good at it. "I suppose I have cared for countless children at all sorts of ages." Newborns with pneumonia, toddlers with ear infections, growing tots with skinned knees. She'd always enjoyed it, which was why she'd been honest with Deimos about someday wanting one of their own, but she'd never considered her experience without a medical lens attached. "Though they'd likely have a second crib in the greenhouse." She grins unrepentantly, concealing the fact that she'd likely just create a little hollow of soil for the babe to be near her while she worked.
Given he'd been busy with the newborns she doesn't bother asking if the Olsons had enjoyed their gifts, assuming they'd been set aside (and fairly so). But she does make a scandalized noise when Deimos consumes the first concoction, vexed that she can't put Micah to the side to exact her revenge. "A waste is what it is. They're far better with the chocolate and crackers." But she will reluctantly exercise her patience, though she wiggles her stick at him belligerently in the hopes he'll put the marshmallow on for her.
It's no surprise he flushes, but even amusement has no place in her chest with how overbearingly loving she feels. His grin merely prompting a lovesick smile, eyes so tender they're practically writing sonnets in the silence of him adjusting. She knows what his answer is, but hearing it makes it all the more meaningful. "I'm glad," she murmurs, and leans forward to meet him in what she expects to be a kiss - and it is, but not where she'd anticipated. Groaning a laugh, she pushes him backwards and swipes at her nose. "Must you ruin the moment?" It's clear from her dimples and shaking shoulders that she doesn't mean it, charmed by his boyishness.
Rolling his eyes at the brandished stick, he skewered another one on her’s, half-tempted to take that too. Instead though, he listened, tilting his head as his eyes returned to studying sugary confections turning the desired shades. Shrugging his shoulders, and given over to a sudden bombardment of amusement, his smile turned catlike and Cheshire again. “And a third in the barracks.” The image gave him a bout of laughter, so that it roared and rumbled amongst the fire and the stars ahead. The more practical notion, which he had for both of them, would be fit to finagle an infant along their backs or chests, wrapped around and strapped down; avoiding evasion and permitting them to get tasks accomplished.
But that was for the future.
Unbothered if he ruined a moment, he persisted in turning his own over, delighted in the perfection once more, and began to construct the s’mores, placing the graham crackers and chocolate in his lap. “Not always,” he offered, as if it might be some rarity, applying the marshmallow into the built concoction. “I saw Kiada again. Made her a coat so that she might be able to visit.”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Tilting the tip of the stick away the moment the marshmallow is speared on it so he can't steal it back, Evie leans forward, elbows pressing into her thighs and marshmallow diving close to the flames as she laughs, prompting Micah to open one lazy eye to stare balefully at her. "I guess we'll need multiple then because I want one in the council hall too." Winking at him, she doesn't rescue her marshmallow - instead dipping it further towards the coals until it catches on fire in a swath of flames that blacken the outside just how she likes it, and says, "Guess you better get started on making them now, who knows how long it'll take for that many?" It would fill the time they leisurely take in crafting and cementing their relationship, neither feeling the need to rush. Admittedly she'd be just as inclined towards a sling of some sort, but saying so would mean an end to the joke.
Retrieving her well-burnt marshmallow, she begins to assemble her crackers and chocolate on her thigh next to Micah's dangerously swaying tail so she can squish it down while it's still hot. Which means she has a mouthful of goop when he tells her about Kiada, making her widen her eyes in joyful surprise at him when she can't immediately respond. Swallowing quickly, she grins. "That's amazing! I hope that means I finally get to meet her." She certainly won't pressure the young woman unnecessarily, but it would be nice to get to know someone Deimos loves so dearly. Someone who should effectively be family.
Evie wouldn’t find any competition for her burnt marshmallow – despite his habitual stoicism, he had no way to mask the look of disgust as her concoction was fed to the coals and seared black. Horrified, he refrained from plucking the sugary mess from her stick, not so much as bothering to even think of snagging at it. Shaking his head and finishing off his already constructed s’more, he then reached into the bag for his next one, he eyed the container for a moment, before persisting – figuring, eventually, she’d notice the small, black box at the bottom.
Distracted by the frightful atrocity committed upon the confection, it took his mind a moment to contemplate and return to their discussion. Somewhere along the way the absurdity of them leaving cribs over every inch of the Citadel made him snort and laugh. “Four? It would not take me that long.” Not to boast; the creation adornments would’ve settled quickly from his hands. Spearing the newfound marshmallow on his stick, he angled and rotated the fixture again. Persisting on their ridiculousness, his eyes revolved back to hers. “One near the springs as well?”
Tilting his cranium vaguely at the insinuation though, he found himself surprised she and the Harpy had never crossed paths. The Hollowed Grounds had been a starting point for many of them, but perhaps journeys and crusades simply never ventured towards one another; and then there’d been disappearances and resurgences on both sides in completely different areas. “I think you would enjoy her.” A smile, and a flicker of pride this time, instilled for Kiada. “Bit bold. Impulsive."
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Evie badly smothers her laughter at his horrified look. He wouldn't be the first to feel that way, but she loves the charred taste of burnt sugar on the outside, and the practically-liquid insides. While she similarly enjoys a perfectly toasted confection, she is equally impatient - if she already loves it burnt, why wait? Clearly she shouldn't change her mind about it if it also doubles as a way of warding him away from her snacks.
"Even if I said you couldn't use magic?" she teases, well aware that even with those parameters he'd likely find no issue completing them within days. Watching him spear another for himself, she debates asking him to toast one to perfection for her, but it would only provide him an opening to tease and withhold - something she would gladly indulge in were it not for Micah making sleepy bond-grumbles in her lap, warning her away from such shenanigans. "Definitely the springs," she agrees readily, feeding into the nonsense, "and perhaps the infirmary, the spa?" Here Evie grins at him, a thousand different jokes on her lips that she manfully withholds. Jokes such as baby facials usually being brown for other reasons than mud, or massaging chubby infant limbs on a comically large table, or weedling babysitting out of Hotaru.
Subsiding with a warm smile at the notion of finally meeting Kiada, she settles instead for using her telekinesis to float another marshmallow out of the bag and into her hand, which she then stabs onto the end of her stick. "I only ever worked in large groups with her, but she seemed wonderful. Of course, we can always go visit her elsewhere too." Deimos could always do so himself, but Evie would be happy to come along for the sake of first meetings.
Dunking her marshmallow back to the coals to become engulfed in flame once more, she floats the chocolate and graham crackers to her so she can begin assembling them on her thigh in preparation - only to glance up and realize it's not food, but a box her magic has snagged. "Oh, oops," she murmurs, immediately thinking she's just grabbed something of his. "What is this?" Plainly curious, she holds the box in hand and gestures it slightly - only to then curse and use her other hand to try and retrieve her now overly-burnt marshmallow, which defies her and flops off the stick at the jolt, succumbing to the logs. "Awwww..." she whines under her breath. At least it means her attention isn't split now, blue eyes glancing back toward Deimos with an inquisitive look.
True – he wouldn’t be touching any burnt or charred food, not when there were so many ways of ensuring that didn’t occur. Rolling his eyes at the crunch and snap of its coal edges hustling towards her mouth, he shook his head and grimaced, turning his attention to his own marshmallow.
A scoff was soon to follow, testing and taunting in all their habitual mannerisms, wrinkling his nose. “How would you be able to tell?” Perfectionism often harbored and rooted itself amidst the Sword’s facets, and he certainly wouldn’t have permitted cribs, whether magically created or constructed, to persuade him into failure. “Or the Kraai?” Which elicited a roar of laughter, because of the foolish, stupid imagery alone.
The smile remained when discussing Kiada, if a little softer. “She is. Maybe she would be able to come over for dinner.” And perhaps not a horrid reminder of other past family excursions of the same; years away from the last one they’d had together – when Samuel was still alive and striving to figure out the Voice’s machinations. Something to ask and ponder, if the Harpy was willing.
Thereafter though he was distracted, and rightfully so, by the Evergreen’s antics. She had in fact found the box, by serendipitous chance, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she seemed to peruse the container, but not open it. Which of course ensured her marshmallow fell into the fire, and he couldn’t help the swift motions of granting her his own (another gilded confection), and plucking the vessel out of her hands. Leaning his stick back against his legs, he arched a brow, giving nothing away, and granting a Cheshire grin as his calloused palm enclosed over the box. “Meant to be a surprise,” as if he hadn’t purposefully planted it there, or that his heart had suddenly quickened.
Teasingly, he kept it within the center of his hand. “What would be your preference – invisibility or fortune?”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Well, she wouldn't know, but that's part of the fun in trying to determine a way to imagine around the obstacle. "I would require in-progress proof for each crib," she decides in a lofty tone that is immediately fractured by the idea of having one in the Kraai. Micah grumbles and petulantly stands just to curl back up in her lap in a different direction with an unhappy flick of his tail, clearly pouting over her boisterous laughter. Smoothing a hand down his back, Evie restrains herself to just chortling. "Why not? Maybe we'll get a discount if our baby is working there." Though the visual of a cradle-sized infant knocking over mead bottles shouldn't be so hilarious to her, she has to willfully swallow back further laughter for the sake of less ridiculous conversation.
Mirth still bright in her eyes, she smiles at him from the ground, equally recalling that horrible family dinner but certain enough in the ways they've all grown and changed to not be daunted by the memory. "I'd like that. You'll have to ask her favorite dessert so I can prepare it ahead of time." They are both fantastic cooks, but Evie would surely need the favor of early preparation to help settle any anxieties about 'meeting the family'.
His hand falls over hers, taking the box, and deftly giving his own marshmallow at nearly the same time. Evie smiles brightly, pleased to have inadvertently gotten her hands on his perfect, patiently crafted marshmallow. "Thank you love." Arranging her little sandwich but not eating it just yet when he has her attention now, Evie's eyes go big at the question. Another gift so soon? Sitting up straighter as if it will somehow grant her the ability to look through the box, Evie bites her lip in contemplation.
"Invisibility, I'd say. I already have all the fortune I want." Which may be incredibly sentimental to say, but as she smiles at him, it's clear she means it. "Show me!" she wheedles playfully, knees bouncing eagerly and prompting another rumble of discontent from Micah.
Snorting and rolling his eyes once more, at the notions of being checked on his progress with the hundredth crib, or that a child would be working at the bar. Beyond ridiculous, he continued to fan the flames of one of the more bizarre conversations they’d ever had, though leering more into the serious, considerate aspects thereafter. “I could probably make some sort of carrier and alleviate all of this,” either on their backs or laden on their chests, tending to duties without need of checking in on cradles and bassinets.
Kiada and dinner preparation was likely not going to be difficult, given the youth’s appetite. “I doubt she is picky, but I will ask.” On another note, as if he’d forgotten amidst all the other machinations of the world around them, his tone persisted. “I did stop by the Hollowed Grounds,” and to alleviate the part of altering into those memories again, he merely continued as if it was a normal outing. “And brought back pumpkin.” Vampire gourd carcasses, essentially, but enough to make their favored autumn desserts.
That was all a distraction anyway, from what was eventual. He wandered back into silence as she adhered to crafting another s’mores, and he simply tilted his head, admiring, breathing, tending to the words in his head that he knew could be crafted better by someone far more articulate. Stringing her along with anticipation and surprise at least gave him some measure of taunting, and amusement, but softened around the edges. On a teasing mannerism, he nodded at her assurance of invisibility, opening the box slightly wide enough towards himself so she couldn’t see – before imparting gilded light from his hands, molding something into an artifact within – pulse pounding in his ears. “All right. Close your eyes.”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Giving up the ghost of ridiculousness, Evie's smile tempers into something tender. "Realistically I'd like a sling anyway. I'd want to have them close." She doubts she'd ever let their little feet touch the ground with how badly she'd want them in her arms. Too often she'd had to gently correct parents on the 'cry it out' approach, breaking the news that their child wouldn't know the difference anyway and was likely just colicky.
Intrigued by the way he words it, Evie wonders if Kiada is a similar foodie like the two of them. A nature that reveals itself immediately as Deimos mentions the pumpkin, something utterly voracious shining in her eyes. "You're the best and I love you so much," she fiercely declares, though she can't affect the serious expression for long, grinning shortly after.
So often has he surprised her with things - from seeds, to morsels, to lightning swords - that Evie doesn't notice at first the way he draws out the suspense even when he agonizingly cracks the box where she can't see. And of course by the time she does, and begins to feel the edges of worry and fret, he asks her to close her eyes. Immediately doing so, implicitly trusting and still admittedly excited for whatever he is hiding, Evie tries not to blatantly wriggle like a young girl lest she get a thigh full of claws from her bonded for it. Waiting is not her strong suit, but she won't rob Deimos of his showmanship.
