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!
Trying to keep his flames as subdued as possible - though the ocean was just beside them should anything properly chaotic happen - Remi chuckles slightly as Isla's hand moves through his flame. "It is not quite like when I am a ghost, but it is not unlike that either." He notes with a small smile. "I can...feel where your hand just was, but it is more like...fabric being draped over it, if that makes sense. Or maybe wind."
Taking a breath which only had the fire around Remi's throat glowing bright amber in response, the ifrit nods. Relaxing his hold on the flames that Isla might have any chance at all of manipulating them, the Lullaby waits with bated breath to see what, if anything at all, Isla might be able to do and perhaps more interesting to him, what it might feel like.
Every shade of hurt you know From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"That's surprising. Is it that you're not properly corporeal as an ifrit, then?" Isla wonders, intensely focused on his shift in a way that only the scientific and vaguely drunk can be. (So really, the Remedy is honed in like a laser). If there wasn't fire manipulation to be done, she'd absolutely want to reach out and properly grasp his hand to see if she passes straight through; for now, though, this takes precedence.
"Alright. Don't make fun though, okay? This is still quite new to me." Focusing on the fire that shrouds the alchemist rather than the burning, man-shaped core of his shift, it's likely no surprise to either of them that the first thing she attempts to do is to make the flames grow. Tendrils of red spiral up and out from the ifrit's form, writhing in a way that doesn't seem at all organic, before reducing significantly.
Delighted by her success, Isla tries again, this time trying to manipulate the vague form of a flaming lion around Remi, her brow furrowed in concentration.
'Something like that.' Remi agrees; later he'll try and find better words to describe the sensations but for now, he's merely interested in collecting data. (Is that what the kids are calling it these days?)
"It wouldn't have crossed my mind." He says of making fun of her, though it absolutely had. He could simply divert his flames away from Isla every time she tried to near them as if she repelled his fire somehow. Alas, since she'd specifically asked him not too..
"Ahhhh-" It isn't a pained sound, nor one of discomfort, even as the ifrit shivers in place, his shoulders rolling. "Gods that feels strange." He murmurs, shaking his head and flexing his fingers. Though a flaming lion is probably outside of Isla's capabilities, Remi does feel bits of himself being tugged and formed in a way which makes him feel like play dough.
"It..." Laughing, Remi shakes his head. "You know the feeling of someone almost touching you? When your hair stands on end?" Gods but it was strange to describe. "I can feel you...moulding me, but it feels more like the sensation of not-touching."
Every shade of hurt you know From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Ah, sorry," Isla says instantly, prepared to drop the control she's wielding over his flames, but Remi doesn't seem to dislike it, for all that it feels strange. Her flaming lion is very much more like an amber blob hovering around the alchemist, but she's proud of it nonetheless, and as he tries to find the words to explain things better, the Remedy lets his fire go free.
"That is strange," she agrees, stepping up before him again and smiling as she gazes over his fiery features. "I'd be worried, but I imagine the only reason I can even get close to moulding you is because you let me," she adds, absently reaching out to try and grasp his wrist, to see if it's even possible more than anything.
"Mmm, no need." The ifrit says with a shake of its head; had Remi a mirror he might have noticed that he would have to make his gestures a good deal more dramatic in order for them to be read as such, or else it was easy to mistake a shrug or a nod as just a flicker of the flames.
Remi's green eyes blink down at Isla as he grins and shrugs. "Well...that goes with most things, I think." He said, trying to sound humble about it, but there was only so much bashfulness the Lullaby could manifest when it came to his abilities.
Letting his hand linger, Isla's fingers would pass through it if she wasn't careful, but, were she to curl her palm around where his wrist should have been and hold it there? "I think this is a bit like what lightning magic must feel like in small doses. It...tingles."
Every shade of hurt you know From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"One could take that as a challenge, you know," Isla says airily, and if ever there was a person to focus so intently on gaining strength just to beat Remi at an arm wrestling competition, it would be Isla Lockwood. Still - for now at least - he's completely correct about it, and so the Remedy turns her focus to his wrist. She can feel the malleable, not-quite-there nature of the ifrit, and it's with a soft frown of concentration that she tries to grasp his arm with just the right amount of pressure.
"Oh, does it?" She laughs to hear that, tilting her head up at him. "You know, we should collate all of these findings and send them up to Halo in the Monster Hunter's Guild. They'd probably be interested to know all of this." Not necessarily to scope out the Lullaby's strengths and weaknesses, but no doubt there are similar creatures out there worth understanding.
Grinning, the ifrit lets a halo of fire billow out around himself. "By all means. Come and talk to me when you can lift me with just one hand." He says with a wink, and though he doesn't quite think she'll ever make it that far, he wouldn't be surprised if the muscles in her arms and legs seemed all the more toned in the coming seasons. Not that he'd be looking, of course.
"Or," The Lullaby counters as fire covers his facial features and he blurs into a proper inferno of heat. "We could spread a rumour that there is an ifrit around for them to track down. No one knows I have this shift, other than you and Ronin." And whoever had the Knowtbook, if it was still around, he supposed.
With an inhale and barely any exercise of will at all, Remi's flames dampen down until it is simply the Lullaby standing on the beach with an arm vaguely outstretched in Isla's direction.
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"With respect, I plan to talk to you a lot more before that, but I'll keep it in mind." Grinning, Isla gives the ifrit and his aura of flame one last, lingering look before Remi shifts back into himself. Soft curls and a boyish smile replace all the fire, but she's sure his eyes are just as green, and her hand closes properly around his wrist for a moment. "You're turning down a chance to do some nerdy research and compiling of facts to chaotically lurk in Torchline?"
The amusement in her voice is unmistakeable, and Isla has no doubt that, yes, that's exactly what Remi is suggesting. "I suppose I could be persuaded. But I'm not sure how I feel about anyone actually hunting you. I know you can manage, but..." She shrugs, not having to say it out loud. She's had enough of anyone hunting down her friends, thanks.
Isla will feel Remi's emotions coil tightly as if he might return her grip; only it's with violent colours coated with a predatory sheen. "Well, when you put it like that." He says with a guilty laugh, using his other hand to ruffle his fingers through his curls as if trying to rid them of any lingering flames.
Twisting his arm slightly so that his fingers could reach for her hand, Remi's expression grows sombre as he nods. "At last on this hunt only you would have the ability to do any real damage to me." He points out softly, wisely refraining from saying something worse like, hey at least this is a hunt you know I won't lose or something equally as stupid to reinforce just how one-sided the war had ended up being.
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Hey, I'm not saying that I'm not on board or that I'm judging you," Isla says with a soft laugh, her fingers slipping against Remi's all too easily - like old times - as they begin to set off down the beach together. "I am on board. And I'm also judging you, but last I checked, that has never stopped you." Offering him a cheeky grin for his trouble, she lasts a few steps hand-in-hand with the Lullaby before slipping her arm through his own instead.
"And luckily for you, I don't plan on hunting you this time." Not that her curious seeking of the Lullaby back on the island can really be counted as hunting, and he'd soon turned the tables on it besides, but still. Enjoying the hot press of sand beneath her feet and the warmth of the afternoon sun, she's not sure where they're going, exactly, but she's tipsy enough to let whim lead the way.
