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!
Tongue sticking out in idle concentration as she moved the paintbrush to fill in Pemota’s steampunk envisioned design, she still listened. Pausing briefly to gaze upon it, tilting her head in study, her eyes glanced over to Isla, then to the ground, pondering over the festival, strings of music, and if the Ancient would be able to hear them again.
Torchline was easier to discuss, and so she went back to another stroke of the blue, and how often they’d had to rebuild themselves. It sounded like Isla, given the other rumors, had to do it more often than most of them, for while Melita had been to two worlds prior to this one, and lost her family in the interim, she hadn’t changed races – or species – to accommodate a life and a soul. “Maybe here will be better,” came on a small, soft smile, as she dipped her paintbrush back into the water, surveying her work. “I think you’ll have a good reception with it, either way.”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
"Maybe it will," Isla says, surprising herself in her easy agreement, but then again she's almost searching for ways to convince herself to settle in the islands by now. And Melita just provides her with another, the medic watching appreciatively as the details bloom to life on Nate's revived lantern. With her own complete, she sets it tenderly down into the sand, glad that the wind has died down enough now that they don't have to worry about chasing their materials.
"Thanks, Melita. For letting me sit, and for your advice," she tells the other woman. "You'll probably see a lot more of me soon, if I decide to settle here. Or... well, no. Not like that - hopefully you'll be seeing me in passing, and not because you need to come and use the medical clinic."
“You’re welcome,” she hummed; even if the Honeybee wasn’t well versed in being someone comforting or assuaging. She could listen, infuse her experiences with whatever wisdom or vitriol she had to spare, and then usually was that. But the notions had been calm and the demeanors compassionate, rather than full of vehemence and boldness. She could align, sometimes, with whatever the air and wind provided.
She laughed at the notions though, shrugging her shoulders. “I usually fare all right,” depending on the circumstances she found herself bounding into. “Good luck, and I’ll catch you around.”
From there, the ladies could part, their lanterns finished and in hand.
{FIN}
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
