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!
To be able to help this land to the standard that would please his irate god, Noah needed to know it. Kissing his twins each and his wife goodbye, Noah headed out. By the time he reached the Levinsward the sun was midway into the sky, and Noah snacked on a spear of bread Cordelia had sent him away with. He kept his eyes open and searching, trying to draw in as much information as he could. He had gone through some of this area before with Fox, but it looked so different now with a dusting of snow and frost clinging to each blade of grass.
Despite the winter weather, Noah's stomach churned with the way the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he edged the broad, rolling grassland. Glacier eyes moved to the sky, the dark clouds indicative of something far more sinister than the falling of snow Noah was all-too used to. Releasing a slow, puffed breath, Noah took the notebook from his pocket and began to scratch notes, ideas on how he could give life to this land.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Penning a quick note to Evie, as promised and with more assurances settled into obtaining further information, the Warden had ventured from skyports and over land – some vaguely familiar, and luring to a Thunderbird’s outstretched wings. The clamor of the elements overhead brought forth those memories, years before, of striving to reach other segments, other lands, from below, as lightning crackled and earth burnt.
In another time and place, he might’ve given over to those melancholic memories – but instead, there were other inquiries laced and layered against the rooted proportions of his machinations. Noah’s letters had been hasty, quick, and confounding, between the notes about the Grounds, heavier tasks (hadn’t he already been committed to them?), and Vi’s discontent. The uncertainties, pitted against everything he’d known about the demigod, made the situation all the more perplexing, and the only answers would be upon the wind, and along the schism of the Levinsward.
Avoiding a pitch of lightning hundreds of yards away, the Warden’s piercing gaze landed upon Noah in the distance, and he descended carefully, precisely, amidst the grasslands – altering from the massive avian and to his own broad form. Uncertain how best to approach the situation, he simply shook his head, starting from the residual greeting. “You all right?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Noah scratched another note as the movement caught his eye, and what he thought was another lightning strike was actually the thunderbird he knew well. He gave Deimos a small wave in greeting as the man closed the distance between them, and pocketed his notebook.
Okay?
Was he? No. Surely not. So they should get into it, and waste no time.
"Vi, it seems, has lost his patience with me." Noah said, chin lifting as he did. "I have not been cursed, but I have been chained." Even though he had moved his family here for what he thought was the season, it looked a thought Vi had other plans. "I am not to leave the Hollowed Grounds until I have brought Vi's glory to this place, shown these people his love and grace and power."
A lump lodged in Noah's throat and he tried to swallow it down several times before he spoke again. "My hesitancy was enough for a greater punishment." His voice was stone despite the pit bobbing in his throat and the white hot sting of tears at the threshold of his lashes. "I have failed him, and I will not again." Glacier eyes swept over the levinsward before landing on the Warden.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
In time, perhaps they’d all learned that patience could be upheld only for so long. The Sword didn’t have the weight of Vi’s gaze hovering over the breadth of his shoulders, but he could remember the days when Amalia had borne it – and that for all the power and might bestowed into a demigod’s threshold, they were bound to their duties. He hadn’t expected Noah to meander around those realms of failure, to take too long, nor to forgo it without the gravitas and seriousness that it merited, but somewhere along the way, had done just that.
Like in council meetings, hoping to be sent to Stormbreak instead. Perhaps, in those moments, he hadn’t truly understood why - save for his own experiences amidst the Grounds. It was haunted and bleak at its best hours, staunch and stalwart because it had nothing else to do but remain listless and scarred. His gaze went elsewhere for a moment, processing the information – that the man wouldn’t be returning to Halo, and his obligations and commitments there, anytime soon. “All right,” he mustered, after watching two more lightning strikes streak across the distance, jaw clenching, uncertain which void he was staring into. “What made you take so long?” Was the first blunt inquiry, and not the last. “And how will you bring about this grace and power?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
09-07-2023, 01:27 AM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2023, 01:30 AM by Noah.)
”Because I’m selfish.” Noah said sharply, heat and lightning behind each syllable. Because I’m stupid, worthless, wrong, vile, selfish selfish selfish selfish. It all swam beneath the surface but for the first time in their relationship, Noah closed himself off tightly from the attuned bond. An impenetrable steel wall closed around his heart with the echo of metal against metal, and his glacier eyes burned silver fire with the intensity of it all.
His ears burned with the heat of his emotions, one thing he was unable to hide even if he wanted to. He wanted to stuff it all down as the shame resurfaced and bubbled in his throat like molten magma. His blood roared in his ears and his jaw set. The tone of Deimos’ voice, of the warden looking at him like a father punishing a petulant child, raked against him and it took every ounce of effort not to erupt.
It wasn’t Deimos’ fault, of course.
It was all the black, churning, predatory beast of shame within him.
He had done wrong by the god he served, and even before he pledged his fealty to the God of Life, Noah had always wanted to do the right thing. It was what Olsons did. They did the right thing, then the next right thing, then the next right thing. His father and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father, so on and so back in their history, Olsons were good.
Yet, Noah squandered that with his own selfishness.
He never wanted to leave Halo. When the ascended came in and he needed to flee to protect his people, when they lived in the wilds of King’s End, and when Vi sent him to Stormbreak, all he yearned for was the cold and formidable mountain range and the rolling, icy tundra. It was where he wanted to raise his children. It was where he wanted to grow old with his wife, watch the developments come and the once poor and destitute community rise to the bustling height of civilization…
”Because I thought that I could still help without giving up what I wanted.” Deimos’ second question was lost on him for a moment, but as the Forsaken looked back up at the warden’s hardened face with his own hardened stare, he sighed.
”I…don’t know.” He shook his head. ”No. I do know. I have…ideas.” Noah rolled his shoulders and sighed again, trying to push the tension in his body out through his breath. But hte magma still bubbled. ”Vi is everything good and right of this world. I want to show that to the people here. I thought of rebuilding the infirmary. Phoebe said there used to be a medical college here.” It was one idea, one he hadn’t fully formed, but Noah took it his notebook and opened it to the page he had scribbled ideas on.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The answer, nor the way emotions strayed and suddenly shortened into nothing, was not what he’d been expecting. The Sword, usually adverse to sharing his sentiments, remained aloof and reticent, uncertain where and how to proceed as Noah simply sequestered into himself. Deimos could readily understand the reaction too – shame was a mighty blow, especially to one like the demigod who’d always been proud and capable. How it could claw. How it could fester. How it could cluster into gnarled, knotted, fettered filaments, driving onslaughts into ribcages, bone, and marrow.
But it was always what someone did with the feelings thereafter, that made or broke them.
Though he wasn’t certain what Noah would’ve given up. Time amidst Halo? Something he could’ve had – traversing back and forth easily with his compass? And perhaps it wasn’t worth asking, given the state of the situation. Wouldn’t have helped, and likely only hindered.
So his gaze faltered, watching another streak of lightning spark and sizzle beyond, before mustering another breath. “What did Vi tell you to do? Were there explicit instructions?” An infirmary was probably a good start – he could recall how often they made use of it before everything fell apart. “Think of all the advancements we made in Halo. The Grounds likely needs some of the same.” Protection. Shields. Armaments. Weaponry. Advanced portions to ensure civilization. Farming.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
With the attuned bond between them closed with heavy steel, Noah simmered. The dark shadows and tendrils of his shame crawled up his spine and latched on where his head met his neck. He still felt the white hot flames licking over him, but Deimos stayed as composed as ever. So Noah sighed.
”I have several things to do, and I cannot leave the Grounds until I’ve completed them.” He crossed his arms over his chest, taking a deep breath before he detailed everything the god had laid out before him. ”I must make Vi’s presence known in the temple. There is an old Voice shrine there, and a new Dygra one. I must also show Vi’s power by using the magic he has given me to help bring life to the Grounds. And I must better help the region in three ways. That’s why I thought an infirmary.”
He tilted his head slightly, the bear showing through. ”I hadn’t thought of adding in defenses or weaponry at all, though that could be a good thing. Give the Grounders the ability to defend themselves in some ways. I helped Fox kill a stone golem a few weeks ago and I don’t think that was an unusual happening.” He shifted his weight, arms tugging tighter together.
”I wish I would have seen through myself. Been stronger and smarter and had less selfishness holding me.” That was, all to say, he wished he would have done this all sooner before the Hollowed Grounds became a prison to him.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
With nothing more the Sword could do for his friend, the only thing he could lend and bend into was discussion – a forging of ideas and ruminations, at the very least. So his brow furrowed while the thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, a mercurial onslaught nearly handpicked for Noah’s own. Vi’s presence being known, and perhaps regaled, power within the Grounds, and bettering the region in three ways. The infirmary would certainly benefit, and considerations began pooling in the Warden’s mind for the thousandth time that week. “I built a barracks here years ago. It may need some repairing as well. Though this season will make it rough, something to do with farming could also help.” A way for the Grounds to utilize all this fertile soil – the way they hadn’t been able to before. “Evie and I would assist if you needed it.”
As for stone golems, no, they weren’t an unusual sight. “You will find them often in old buildings.” In the dark, huddled amidst the shadows, taken in by the twist and turns of nothingness, content within the thresholds of darkness. “They are weak to daylight.” Though perhaps the Forsaken had found that out for himself already.
But the hesitancy was what threw Deimos – because he’d known Noah for a long while, and never seen him so tentative, ambivalent, or faltering; especially when it came to the god he proclaimed as his own. “Is something else holding you back?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
His words caught in his throat as he looked to Deimos, eyebrows pinched together, the pain a storm on his face. "I--I never wanted to be like them." He said plainly, the them very easily being the zealots and the extremists. The Ascended. Wessex. The cannibals. The cultists. The Forsaken sucked a breath through his teeth. "I never wanted to come into this land and control them. I never wanted to force what I believed on others. I didn't--" He cut off for a second, shaking his head slightly and looking down at the ground. The words weren't coming right. The burning in his throat made it tighten, and he shifted and almost shuffled his feet. "--I've always wanted people to be able to choose. I couldn't ever love anyone right by forcing."
Not Korbin, not Delphine, not anyone. Noah knew from years and years of failing and losing and heartbreak and loss that he could only be as the Aumakua -- a beacon of hope and light and good and right. There to guide others from crashing into the rocky shoreline or into each other.
But he was not made of stone as the Aumakua. He was breathing and living with brilliant blood flowing through his veins and the most perfect of power in his soul.
Vi had called him to more. Be a light he had said, to shine and show and guide, but there was so much more than standing Sentinel.
Noah needed to work.
"I will look at the barracks. I inspected some of the inner quarter for farming opportunities earlier this year, with Fox." Again, the man popped up. Did he know Noah now lived among him? "I appreciate it. I want to shepherd the Grounders to be involved as much as they'd like, but Halo's help -- your, and Evie's, help is always welcomed." And appreciated.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
For all his stoicism and reticence, the statements ushered thereafter had his brows arch, then furrow, contemplating on what basis Noah could mean. In the Sword’s mind, there were no apt comparisons between the Wraith and her assemblage of powerful, potent Ascended, nor the Voice, when pinpointing upon the Forsaken. The damage done by them had been plenty and consuming, enough to eventually unwind into wars and cataclysms, paths taken to disturbing, incredulous levels, spurred and spurned on in exponential damage. So he went with simplicity first, striving to render where Noah seemed to place himself amidst the confines. “But you are not controlling anyone, nor forcing your belief on them. They have always had the right to choose.” There would be those who always stayed within the Grounds. Or moved, as most of them had done when lands unfurled before their eyes.
Considering further, his eyes glanced over the horizon, watching other clouds build, move, and maneuver. “Assisting in rebuilding, nor preaching about Vi’s power, is not the same as what so many others have done.” Because in the end, if the world didn’t want to listen, they didn’t have to – the same way it’d always been. “Do the Grounds have a leader now?” He had his suspicions in Dantalion, but there hadn’t been any confirmation – just a mere wandering into their latest meeting.
From there he sighed though, a shake to his head to break up the cacophony building there. “Just send word and we can be here.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
"Right." Noah sighed, deflating even more. "My fear was that I would be perceived in such a way that I was oppressing the people to follow and pledge loyalty to Vi." Even if he wasn't. Even if, in his opinion, it was the right answer. Noah had found power and belonging and acceptance and all manner of other things -- purpose -- in the arms of the god. Even if he thought everyone should follow him, too, Noah wasn't going to push. His own wife still sought Frey, for gods sake. Noah breathed out again, but not a sigh. He was strengthened by Deimos' words and insight, and he appreciated the Sword for viewing him in such objective terms.
Noah loosened the steel around his hold of the attuned bond, letting the gratitude flow from from the cracked door and towards the warden.
At the question of leadership, however, Noah sucked his teeth. "Dantalion." Noah said, though it was accompanied by a shrug and a head shake. Noah had only met the ancient once, and their encounter had not left him as the impressive one. "At least, that is what I understand from the talks of the locals and his presence at the meeting in King's End." Noah tilted his head some, the crack in the attuned bond offering another vulnerability. "When Vi called to me he stood before a shrine for the ancients' goddess."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Glancing around, eyes on the horizon as the storm seemed either tapering off or moving eastward, his gaze eventually rounded back towards the Forsaken, pondering over the subject into ever further means. “They are not being oppressed. Perhaps the Voice might have done so, but even then, there was always an option.” To leave or stay – to flee or remain. “But these people know how to survive.” With all the disasters flickering in their midst, with the barrier conforming, then crumbling down over them, and every other wake threatening their existence – the Grounds citizens had persevered. Perhaps not well, but enough to make it by, day after day. “But sometimes that is all they have time for – lasting.” So that was where Noah could strive and try and give them something to ease the burden, the weight, of each lingering instant.
The sudden inkling of the bond again caused his head to tilt, but he still said nothing; the stoicism alive and well, even on the bridges of another sigh. New leadership, especially one like Danta, could be either encouraging or perplexing. “I have met him before,” once when the Ancient had gotten himself caught in a bear trap, and the other while wandering the Grounds – he’d likely been scavenging then too. “Interesting man. You could probably work with him well enough.”
But the other insinuations left the arched brow to branch upwards once more. “Is that meant to signify something?” After all – Safrin had told a multitude of them not to regard Dygra as a villain.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
”I don’t think it was any sign other than it should have been a shrine to him that I erected there first.” Noah said, jaw feathering. Safrin had told them that Dygra wasn’t the enemy, and Noah hadn’t felt that she was until that moment. Because her followers had been so diligent in their time here that they were able to set up a monument while Noah was doddering in Halo. Vi wanted his presence known here, and Noah hadn’t understood how much until recently. He knew that he had been called to eradicate the darkness left by the Voice and the Ascended, to be a beacon of Vi’s light — but he didn’t know that he was in competition with the followers of other gods.
Now he understood, though, that the world needed Vi and his light and Noah had been chosen to share it with more than just Halo and the occasional helping here and there in the Grounds.
Noah sighed, letting his eyes follow where Deimos’ went over the horizon. The lightning storms seemed to pass, but Noah wasn’t so easy to trust this place. Lightning was just as quick and unpredictable and dangerous as ice and snow storms out on the tundra. ”I have met him once before, too. A few seasons back, in the Climb, when I was trying to learn more about Dygra. I…I did not make a good first impression. I was pretty frazzled, and actually looked pretty dumb.”
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
With no comments about the people or things they’d had to face, Deimos half-wondered if Noah cared. Maybe he was internalizing his future actions, but he still had to work with a community who’d endured hardship after hardship, who’d been behind a barrier for three hundred years, and who still looked to the world with some amount of distrust and disdain. Throwing himself in any bullheaded facets into this particular void wouldn’t arrive without some minor setbacks. And while the Forsaken could’ve viewed them as a chore, Vi clearly cared about this region for some reason.
“Is that what you plan to do?” A shrine to Vi – in all its glory? The Temple housed any number of pedestals and benedictions – even after it’s horrific ventures.
With another sigh threatening to lodge itself and find a home in his lungs, he listened, tilting his head as Noah described his own meeting with Danta. An arch to his brow conformed to the statements, because his own event with the Ancient had left Deimos with the impression that the newfound leader was a bit numb in his own regard. “How so?” Maybe to make his friend feel better, and relay that the land was full of these bizarre interactions, he shrugged his shoulders. “I found him caught in a bear trap.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
