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!
He’d be about the same – flitting in and about the world of Halo with children strapped to them, rather than trapped and held captive inside the home. Perhaps that said more about their workaholic natures than necessary, or that future youths would be experienced in multitudes of venues – including barracks, greenhouses, offices, spas, and so on. “Exactly,” he pinpointed, a soft grin remaining on his features.
Which only prompted another laugh when her declaration was aired over pumpkin – but given its many attributes and contributions to favored dishes, he wasn’t surprised. The diction might have granted him enough courage to continue, pulse ticking in his jaw now, feeling it clench back and forth as apprehension began to weigh its way through his mind. It shouldn’t have – they’d discussed it all before. Didn’t meant it wasn’t nerve-wracking though; alterations, changes, decisions – she could always refuse.
Fortifying his breath, steeling his resolve, he watched as she heeded to the direction, granting his suspense, surprise, and bestowal. He expected her to squirm with impatience, though maybe Micah stayed the notions, calmed the semblances, as he lifted her hand up, placing the box within, and opening it.
The reveal would unfurl a ring; a slim, rosy hued band, deceivingly simplistic at first. Etched along the sides were small details embedded into the sides; leaves, stems, curlicuing, before winding towards the center of a sunset-hued stone, like the blossoms of a flower. In the interim of waiting for her to open her eyes, he slid off his log and down to his knee in front of her, mindful of the leopard cub and tending to a speech he’d practiced and still knew wouldn’t be enough. Gaze searching and finding hers, piercing and ardent in the haze and lights and beneath the stars. “I will never be able to word it all properly – how much I love you.” Easing another breath, and taking the knots out of his chest, granting opportunities and chances that a thousand times over he was still shocked that he had. That they’d found themselves here – built all on their own. Swallowing down all remaining apprehension, he persisted, Sword through and through. “I admire your strength, courage, and convictions every day.”
Then a grin, perhaps to alleviate all the trepidation in his bones, or to simply place all his heart out there, piece by piece. “And I did wonder if you would let me stay by your side – if you would marry me.”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
She jolts slightly when his hand touches hers, if only because she was anticipating being told to open her eyes first. Then the box is set in her palm, and her fingertips slightly curl around the soft edges, not wanting to drop it. Micah suddenly abandons her lap, which prompts Evie to open her eyes just as much as Deimos’ silence - and immediately sees the ring.
Her breath catches hard in her throat, eager smile dashed into something starstruck, run through by Cupid’s arrow which pins her frozen beneath the stars and the fairy lights he crafted that still shine overhead. Her eyes can’t linger long on how beautiful it is, how lovingly intricate and perfectly crafted to represent her, because they turn to Deimos as if magnetized. “Deimos?” she whispers, lips already beginning to tremble.
They’ve talked about this before. It shouldn’t stun her so thoroughly, shouldn’t crack her open like a fissure through the night sky overhead that spills out love in the shape of stardust. It does anyway. How can it not, when it’s him? When it’s the man she loves on one knee, with a ring, and an expression on his face she’s never seen before that she never wants to forget.
Evie has never minded going slow. Waiting for the right moments, letting the both of them grow and heal in ways nobody had ever given them before. She would have waited forever for him if he needed it, never needing symbolism or public declarations to know she was his and he was hers. But she’s a romantic all the same, and her eyes fill with tears as her trembling lips begin to curl in a lovesick smile as his quiet, rumbling voice reminds her once again of his love. Love she has never doubted, even on days he couldn’t find the words.
Already her head has begun to nod before he can even truly finish, and a wet, jubilant laugh escapes her the moment that he does. “Yes, yes of course!” Now understanding why Micah had departed she rises swiftly onto her own knees to kiss him, happy tears spilling over as she cups his face with her only free hand as she pours each ounce of love through their connecting. Only parting to tilt their heads together and cling to him so she might still speak. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she whispers, voice shaking as she presses another quick kiss to his lips.
The waiting might have been the worst portion – despite past discussions. There were always opportunities to say no and refute the aspects, to change minds, to deny and reject – patterns he didn’t want to repeat over and over again. So his eyes rounded, wondering if this was the same semblance of torture he’d devised upon her so many times before; teasing, taunting, extending the moments before hearts burst and chests cleaved fire –
But they deserved it, every inch of reclaimed adoration and fervency, segments of ardor and devotion, and he wasn’t going to forget that. Paths once rubbled and condemned, picked and nurtured, soothed and assuaged, by their own resolve and determination, a surefire tenacity in minds and generosities. Healing themselves and one another, remembering, recalling, recollecting that lost moments weren’t gone forever, and there were always, always, always new ways to forge, so long as they could see above the water, over the grounds. Slow, methodical, and overcoming, until they were boundless factions.
At her tears his eyes widened, briefly panic-stricken, before reality crashed and she was nodding and he shook his head all the same, pondering whether to burst into laughter from relief or simply wipe her tears away. He did both, thumb padding along the incline of her lids, never worth crying over, before she succumbed and they were intertwined, whispers in between fervor and passion. No more doubts, no more wonderings, no more perplexities of apprehension clouding figments; the declarations sealed. “Good,” he relented eventually on another grin, when he could part ways for a breath, a snort, a billow across sanctions of skin. Pausing, not wanting to break the earnestness or the zealous rush, he sank into fractions more, before the smile yielded again. “Can I show you what it does?”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
She doesn't mean to keep him in suspense, though it's his own fault for having robbed her of all words and even the breath with which to speak them. Laughter and tears are equally incapable of slowing, cresting over his thumbs which brush gently beneath her eyes, whisking them away the moment they're born. With one hand still holding the ring box she can only sink the other into the hair behind his ear, clinging to him in the only way she can, too scared to move otherwise lest she drop this new precious artifact she holds in her palm.
His grin is brighter than all the stars overhead, and she fervently prays that Safrin is somewhere up there, proud of her champion and the happiness he has found for himself. Just as proud as Evie is of him.
"Yes please," she hiccups slightly, though her blue eyes are ardent, almost bewitched to stay connected with his own. Holding the box up slightly, she smiles helplessly. Doesn't believe she'll ever be able to stop. "Don't forget you still have to put it on me though." It comes out playfully, but the truth is as much as she's looking forward to that small moment, she's equally uncertain her shaking hands can handle the task if it falls on her shoulders.
The claws and nuances of trepidation and apprehension subsided quickly, with the brief wonderings of why he’d been worried or concerned at all – but hearts in others’ hands were risky and terrifying – save for Evie, who’d always handled his with utmost care. They’d carved out their place, piece, and peace in the world, and they’d revel in it moments longer, in between his snorts and her hiccups, shaking his head with the lightest of laughter. “Of course,” and he wrinkled his nose in return, plucking the ring out of the box, and laying the wooden container out of the way.
Carefully, he maneuvered away from her lips, her mouth, but not straying too far. Calloused fingers lifted her left hand, sliding the band gently along the fourth finger, holding it aloft for her to watch. “You twist here,” as he deftly demonstrated, digits sliding over the top of the sunset-hued blossom, and mimed turning the device. “It should render you invisible until you turn it again.” A useful implementation, not unlike his cloak, and from there he grinned, imagining an assortment of shenanigans and defense measures at its behest. Thinking thereafter, his brows furrowed, pondering another round of complexities beginning to surmise in his mind. “Unless you do not like it. I can change it.”
--
Deimos has created:
Evie’s Engagement Ring: Turning the top of the blossom designed ring will render Evie invisible, until she turns it once more.
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Each new moment feels somehow more intense, more infused with love, to the point she wonders how it can grow so exponentially without reaching some unforeseen limit. His hands are steady, which is a relief because she can see the way her own tremble as he takes her left hand and gently slides the ring on. She shouldn't be surprised that it's a perfect fit, but seeing it on her finger makes her want to cry and kiss him another time.
But first she must watch as he demonstrates how to activate the ring, which is admittedly difficult given she doesn't want to look away from his eyes - though his self-conscious furrowing of his brows has her immediately touching his cheek, wishing she could reach him through Attuned measures so he might feel the radiant glow of her happiness, with the ring and with him. "No. It's perfect." Spoken with an almost vehement insistence, a protectiveness that implies she'll happily crush anyone who tries to look askance at her ring.
Taking her hand away, she obligingly twists the stone on top and marvels at the way she goes invisible in the span of a blink. It's disorienting to say the least, feeling her arm move but not being able to see it, and her astonished laugh will be all he can gauge until she turns it once more to re-solidify. Bright, still-wet blue eyes lifting to his to beam anew. "I love it." And this time she really does lean in to kiss him again, both hands coming to cup his face in order to pour every ounce of love and appreciation into the touch.
Another waiting game, watching, surveying, until notes of perfection rang against his ear drums, and no longer haunted the inner chambers of hearts, lungs, and souls. A breath of relief unfurled from his chest, content with the knowledge that she was the same – apprehension dissipating for semblances and ties of other, better things. A reminder, again and again, that he could trust her implicitly, and those webbings and trappings of yesteryears could be completely washed away – gone, into confidence, assurance, and convictions, placed amidst hopes. An emotion he could have once more, that they could share.
He half-expected immediate attempts at mischief as she tried the ring, then faded from sight – it would’ve been a nuance built upon patterns of their juvenile antics. But there was only the bloom of a laugh echoing around starlight and flames, and he snorted again in response. Then she was tangible again, and there were only moments cherished; no longer such a rarity, but beloved and beheld just the same. “Good,” he murmured before her lips were on his, and he was pervaded, surrounded, by every conveyance of her ardor; absorbing it and returning it in kind, mouths mingling until there was no breath and no air, barely pulling away.
To laugh, maybe, or to remember where they were – lost in a favored haze. “You will have to help with planning everything else,” came along on a cheeky grin and a rumble, permitting them to marvel in happiness, in bliss, for a bit longer.
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Because he can trust her implicitly, mischief does not so much as tempt her from afar the moment she tests the ability of her ring. While she has never apologized for her at times juvenile ways, and would never want Deimos to either, she wants this moment to be full of the other parts of themselves - love, happiness, sincerity. All of which she pours against his lips until her lungs ache and Micah's distant grumbling reminds her of how long she has had him in her grasp.
Not that she pulls away very far. The gods themselves would have to tear her from his side right now.
Even amidst the greatest storm of feeling she has ever weathered, he still manages to make her laugh, tilting her brow against his own and moving her hands from his cheeks to loop behind his neck. "You know that's what I'm best at, all my journals can attest," she reassures cheekily, always happy to tease him for his aversion to the council hall and his official office. "How much time do you intend to give me?" She could make a wedding happen in a day if he asked her, and would be ecstatic all the same, but she has no qualms with a long engagement either.
Brows touching, he couldn’t help the extended puff of laughter, shaking his head but never leaving the fragments and figments of touch (and lifetimes before, he would’ve never been able to do such a thing). “I had no doubt in your abilities,” was another rumble, the books upon books of notes, journals and pages filled to the brim, or the entries piled amidst studies, desks, and offices was always around for evidence.
Looping his hands around her waist, relaxed and content, he should’ve known the next inquiry was coming, and it wasn’t without his own air of machinations and calculations. The foremost thought had been her acceptance, first and foremost, and with it came more speculations. “Depends on when you want to have it,” was a whisper against her mouth, lids lowering slightly in perusal and study. He could see her craving it immediately, but Deimos wouldn’t forgo some measure of opportunity for friends and family. “And where. And with who.” She knew he valued the air of privacy – not ever an individual yearning to make a spectacle of himself, but he wasn’t certain on her preferences. “Did you want something like Noah and Cordelia’s?”
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
Evie softens beneath his humor, because it's too true to be anything but heartwarming. Though he outpaces her in every possible way - especially in her own eyes - Deimos has never wavered in his belief in Evie. "I know," she murmurs, heart shining in her eyes as she dips in to kiss him quickly one more time, because she can't help herself.
It's true she would marry him here and now if she could, and the quirk of her smile makes it clear she's caught-out and unashamed of it. "I'd like to include a few traditions, but I don't want it to be the same as Noah and Cordelia's," she admits. It had been a gorgeous ceremony, but she'd felt no personal connection to it, no desire to replicate it for herself and Deimos. "Small, though. So we can personalize it the way we want." And not worry about offending Naturals or other citizens Evie frankly wouldn't want at their wedding anyway. Besides, she doesn't really have anyone to invite. Hadama, perhaps. It's a sorrowful thought, but one Evie doesn't let encroach on her shining happiness. Halo, Deimos, their companions - they're all she has ever needed. As for where - "Here, or the wilds. Either way not the Grounds." He knows she has no connection to that place any longer, but it feels good to say it aloud for herself this time.
07-31-2023, 09:58 PM (This post was last modified: 08-21-2023, 07:11 PM by Deimos.)
Deimos
Deimos eternally had faith in Evie – whether it be in her abilities, antics, habits, preferences, and the like, even down to the most simplistic of actions. His adherence, loyalty, and belief, once snagged, was usually for the hereafter; and he inhaled the same from her as she pressed against his mouth once more.
And while they remained in one another’s close and entangled orbit, he began to mentally check off or add portions to the impending arrangements in his mind. A few traditions linked to Halo, but not matching the Sentinel’s and the One Shot’s, small, personalized –
Though her last words made his eyes widen, because he hadn’t given that land any thought in regard to where things would be held. Perhaps he should’ve, given it being the land of her birth, but they were all so haunted by the ghosts and traumas lingering there, he couldn’t imagine such a ceremony being held there any longer. At least, not for them – when they’d strived for so long to look and grow past the trapping bindings lurking in the midst. “I would not want it in the Grounds either,” by way of agreement, working his mind past the horrors. “So King’s End or Halo?” To narrow something down, in the quirk and arch of his brow. “But you know not everything has to be decided today.” The Sword had never been the kind to rush. “And I should probably let Kiada and Ru know.” And from there, they'd be able to plan and work things out for the future.
{FIN}
it's not the waking, it's the rising It's the fire it ignites
