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!
Notions of adding these newfound spiders to the Monster Hunter’s journals prompted his long strides sweeping over cobblestones, down the streets of the Citadel, narrowing his eyes at the long threads upon buildings as he strode past. The understanding of this recent phenomenon was beyond him at the moment, uncertain if it was just here (as it had been with memory snow dinosaurs in the past), or relegated Caido-wide.
And while it was amusing to find methods of obliterating them, the mess they left behind was still proficient.
Which was why he wasn’t even remotely surprised to find the guildhall covered in the silken strands, from the top of the roof, diagonally crossing, knotted and gnarled, to the bottom, lacing over the doorknob, apertures, and front.
Standing there, studying the perplexities and the bizarreness of the situation, the Sword relented one long withering sigh, before he strode forward, and began unraveling them from the closest window.
George was certainly a man who did his research, and so before coming to Halo, he'd asked around about the Warden named Deimos. If Hotaru was close with the man, then George wanted to be on his good side - particularly if his moniker was 'the Resurrected Sword.' So it was that he kept an eye out as he strolled about town, looking for someone tall and muscular who fit Deimos's description, and he was rewarded by the sight of one such man outside the Monster Hunter's Guild Hall.
The man in question stood looking at the building before heaving a sigh and setting to work on removing the spiderwebs from the windows. George strolled casually towards the building and called out a greeting. "Hello," he said, his voice friendly. "It looks like you could use a hand." There were spiderwebs covering the guild hall, after all, and it did look like more than a one-man job.
Unaware he was a fixture of research or study, he only ceased momentarily in his task, dragging the long threads away from the glass, when a voice called out. Turning his head over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in his own predacious inquisition – for he had no recognition of the man. Strangers in Halo were few and far between, as the Warden made it one of his many duties to know his people, and he’d never seen this individual in his life. Wondering if that meant some level of threat, or merely someone just passing through, he remained guarded, unyielding, mildly suspicious; a primordial way for Sword and Reaper.
Even if the man was striving to be helpful.
“If you want,” echoed on a rumble first, jawline jutting towards the entrance, where the lacing and crisscrossing of threads had intermingled around the doorknob as well. Then, without much preamble, because he had to start somewhere, he began peeling more silk from the window, piling it along his feet. “Who are you?” Not hostile, but certainly stoic and reticent, waiting for information to slide into place.
He should have anticipated that the Warden would view him with some level of suspicion; George would have reacted the same, were their places exchanged. After all, he was a stranger in Halo, and Deimos had no reason to trust him. Still, this didn't deter George in the slightest. His goal was not to win the man over in a day, after all, but rather to introduce himself and make himself useful. If things continued to go well with Hotaru, he wanted to be on Deimos's good side; if they didn't, well, it couldn't hurt to ingratiate himself with the leader of such a strong region.
George ambled up to the entrance and began to help clear spiderwebs away, peeling the silk away from the doorknob and beginning his own pile. The silk was sticky in his hands, and it took some effort to begin clearing it from the doorway. "I'm George," he told the Warden easily, his voice friendly. "I'm a friend of Hotaru's. I'm visiting from Torchline."
Deimos’ eyes remained narrowed, amidst his wall of stoicism and reticence. The manners in which the stranger, George, spoke didn’t harbor any lies, though the immediate notions of ‘friend of Ru’ gave some more clarification to the Valkyrie’s latest travels. She’d apparently had a very busy time amidst Torchline, and the Sword filed the information away in the back of his mind for later.
He watched the man for a moment more, before returning to his own task, and finishing the window portions. Following the lines of thread and silk, he pressed along the front of the guild, peeling away tangled and gnarled proportions from the wood. Then, deciding to be cheeky and obnoxious and nosey altogether, behind that steely resolve, the rumble of his words persisted. “I see. How do you know Ru?”
The spiderwebs were a pain to deal with, but George had handled worse tasks in his life, and he worked diligently on cleaning the door. The doorknob, at least, was cleared of the silk, and he turned his attention next to the hinges, slowly adding to the collection of silk at his feet. "We met in Torchline," he said easily as he picked and peeled at the webbing. He considered how they'd met - by chance, really - and then how they'd come together as a result of the party that Flora had held. "I knew Flora, and saw Hotaru at the Hanged Man's reopening."
With the door cleared of webs - for now, anyway - George wandered towards a window on the opposite side of the door from Deimos and began to pick at the silk that stretched across the glass. It was not lost on him that Deimos had not introduced himself - was that arrogance, that George should already know who he was, or simply the (correct) assumption that the thief had sought him out for a reason?
The Sword had already contemplated his way through the first statement, so he opted to stare at the wooden portions, plucking away at a vicious knot of thread, before chucking the entire thing down in a pile, resolving to utilize it for other purposes later. The Flora party seemed to have been quite a regalia; had it not been for the Valkyrie’s daughter, Deimos had to wonder if the vacation would have been so lively. But then again, his family often made their own entertainment.
Visiting had its own connotations, so he arched his brow, glancing back at the man. “And how are you finding Halo?” As for introductions – and if one were relying purely on presumptions – Deimos felt sought out from the beginning, especially due to the use of Ru’s name, but not for on the particulars of why. And George was likely quite capable of asking his own questions.
Flora's party had indeed been quite a regalia, and though George had known very few people in attendance, it had still been fascinating to watch the ebb and flow of the guests as they gravitated towards or avoided each other. Having had no such connections, George had simply enjoyed the drinks, the food, and the dancing - and while he hadn't, strictly speaking, met Hotaru at the party, he had seen her there, and it seemed easier to explain than a random meeting on the beach.
Regardless of explanations (or lack thereof), George shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly as he continued to help with the spiderwebs. "It's been nice, so far. Very different from Torchline," he added with a laugh. It had been a long time since the thief had been away from the warmer climes of Torchline, but he had found that the cold wasn't too brutal - not yet, anyway, this early in Leafchange. "I'm looking forward to playing the tourist, actually. Any recommendations of sights to see while I'm here?"
Listening all the while, his stature and height saved a modicum of work on portions of the front, until he required more assistance. From there, puffs and billows of his Mastered Air were conjured, peeling away the layers with strokes of wind and heightened breeze, until the threads began to fall, continuing to curl and contort in their designated piles.
Considering Halo was nearly the polar opposite of Torchline, the statement wasn’t a surprise. They had oceans and beaches, to be certain, and different layers and folds of mountains, but there were certain elements that could never waver or change. “Depends on your preference for things,” and his eyes narrowed, before invoking another round of enchantments overhead. “The Sea of Glass is beautiful,” especially this time of year, being capable of going along without freezing instantly. “I am partial to the Greenwing,” for being exactly as it stated; plentiful and wild. “Just be careful about some of our wildlife. Ursurs, frost giants, and the white dragons tend to be an issue.”
George paused for a moment in his helping to watch as puffs and billows of air were conjured around Deimos, peeling away webs from beyond the man's reach. The thief raised a brow, but said nothing, merely returning to his own task. He'd never had a particular interest in magic, but if Deimos and Hotaru were any indication, it seemed that Halo had its share of Abandoned or Abandoned hybrids. He was intrigued: why gather here, of all the places in Caido that could be chosen to call home? Of course, he was perhaps a little biased towards warmer weather, so maybe that was why it seemed so strange to him for Abandoned to congregate in the tundra.
George listened to the recommendations from Deimos, pondering where he might wish to visit before going home and making note of the dangers Deimos mentioned. Although George was confident in his abilities against a human opponent, he wasn't much of a hunter, and to face down an ursur or a frost giant or a white dragon was well outside his comfort zone. "I will have to explore, it seems," he said thoughtfully. "Carefully, of course."
The Sword persisted in the same manner with his magic – indifferent to being watched and observed. It wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly not the last, given the nature of who he was. He bore no shame in his abilities, and never would; born to the reaches of magic and the incantations pulsing through his blood – utilizing them to the best of his knowledge for whatever circumstances coursed amidst the world. So there the Air remained and reigned, contorted upwards to peel edges of threads away from the roof.
George’s silence was intriguing, but only because of the lack of inquiries behind it. Most of the time, especially given his guild activities, when mentioning such animals, individuals were either rampant with curiosity, or hesitant. The Torcher seemed to be either none of those things, or merely absorbing the information. Quirking a brow, and digging in further, Deimos’ deep rumbles continued. “Have you seen such creatures before?” Maybe that had been the reason for lack of reaction – old hat, considering other things that lurked along coasts.
George continued to help, though his efforts could not reach the heights of Deimos's air magic. Instead, he focused on the lower portions of the building, picking and pulling and peeling at the silk in a genuine attempt to assist. His efforts moved him further from Deimos, though he had no trouble hearing the Warden's inquiry.
"Not those specifically, no," said George easily. He hadn't seen ursurs and frost giants and white dragons, but he'd heard of them (he'd done his research before coming). "But everywhere has its dangers, no? We have ghost whales and sea panthers back home. No dragons, though - not that I'm aware of, anyway." In truth, George wasn't entirely sure that he was going to explore all that much outside the Citadel. He'd come to see Hotaru, and that was pretty much the sole purpose of his visit. If she wanted to take him outside the Citadel's walls, then he'd follow her gladly. Aside from that, though... well, asking about the local sights was one type of small talk.
Deimos was not one for small talk. Most of the time his conversations were purposeful, teasing, or taunting, and at least the latter portions were extended in hopes of goading his friends. George didn’t seem particularly inclined to regale with anything but bare bones and simplicity, and even the Sword found himself struggling to respond. And he certainly wasn’t going to ask about what the Torcher and Ru had been up to – he knew better. “I have experienced sea panthers before,” assisting in destroying one and electrocuting Sunjata simultaneously, “but not ghost whales.” Perhaps he’d never been far enough out to sea.
Contemplating the reaches of the guild house now, and the range of his incantations, he opted for an alteration. “Headed to the roof,” came by way of warning, before shifting into his eagle form; an unfurling of sienna wings and fast, swift ascension, before landing upon shingles and wood above.
George was one for flirtation more so than small talk, inclined towards teasing and taunting, but in an entirely different way from Deimos. In any case, he was not particularly drawn to try flirting with the Warden: for one, he was here to woo Hotaru, not flirt with her friends; for another, he got the sense that flirting with Deimos would be unlikely to get him anywhere. With that tool temporarily removed from his arsenal, George found it difficult to make small talk with someone who seemed similarly likely to offer only the barest of answers. Perhaps he would finish helping and then make his excuses - at the very least, he'd introduced himself to Deimos, and hadn't that been the goal? To get a feel for the man who Hotaru held in such high esteem?
Then Deimos transformed, taking George by surprise. So he, like Hotaru, had the ability to shift into animals as well as use magic. Well, that simply made him all the more impressive. "That must be useful," he called after eagle-Deimos. "How many shifts do you have?" A question for when the man shifted back, anyway; something to fill the silence.
