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!
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
He ran.
Not away, but within – taking on the late afternoon haze before the sun fell below horizons and walls. A moment of time to stretch along boundaries, to listen to the footfalls on cobblestones, to unfurl along the echoes and not sink into those overbearing ventures he could feel grasping at his shoulders. A release of burdens and pressure, for muscles to bound and leap without the sentiments crawling between bones and souls. And then, when that wasn’t enough, he took to hellhound pursuits, paws and claws pushing off the perimeter of snow, until shops, spas, and citizens became blurs.
But his sides didn’t heave and his ribs didn’t implode and his lungs took in every inhale as if it were nothing – and he was torn between the beats of hearts, responsibilities, and ominous declarations, and knowing where he’d eternally settle. It was always the unknown that coaxed him: curiosity or damnation, or the way the darkness began to cluster and coil and hover, sending the Sword home.
The lights within were beckoning hands and so were the forms inside; reminders that he wasn’t alone and didn’t have to bear the brunt of anything sure to come and follow. Old habits still died hard, and he could feel that primordial shift immediately descending through his spine the moment his boots kicked the edge of their porch, and the snow slid off in clumps and chunks. The Evergreen would be able to hear the door open readily, and the rumble soon to follow. “Home,” an announcement flickering around until he could feel Belial careening somewhere nearby, and Zuriel meandering by the hearth.
Presuming Evie was busy, for both were similar in that aspect, he began peeling away the layers of his outer furs, placing the heaviest upon the coatrack, before lifting his hair off his neck, wandering closer to the bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Presuming she could hear him from wherever she lingered, the grumble in his voice persisted. “Would you like to know the latest drama?”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
Busy, yes. The type of busy, however, is debatable.
Indisputably because of the recent wave of news instead of in spite of it, Evie has chosen to put her files and paperwork away in favor of something distracting, something lighthearted and (arguably) mindless. So as she hears the porch creak with Deimos’ arrival, her heartbeat increases and she considers stuff her book under the blanket covering her lap, an old instinct she has yet to fully bury. Despite that, she triumphs in the end, forcefully settling herself and lifting her head to aim a loving smile at Deimos as he enters and calls out. It has become such a reliable part of her daily routine, but she has yet to stop feeling those little butterflies of warmth in her chest when she hears him call out his return. “Welcome home love,” she calls in return, not far given she’s in her favorite cushy armchair by the hearth, wrapped up in one of their many throw blankets with Zuriel basking nearby and Micah in her lap.
The cheesy, low-brow romance book in her hands is the only thing uncommon on the main floor. She usually keeps them in her private bookcase in the very back of the library upstairs, away from the eyes of any visitors.
If she’s expecting anything, it’s not the premise of drama. Deimos only ever shares the most ridiculous of the lot, so her eyes widen as she sits up straighter, already absentmindedly placing her bookmark and setting her novel aside. He may be wandering away from her, but Micah grumbles when she prods him so she’ll have to wait for the Sword to venture back her way. “Of course, especially if it’s enough to have you willing to share it.” Deimos is certainly no idle gossiper. Evie had been in her younger years, but her life had been so rigid, every inch of herself and her habits a shallow facade that she’d abandoned in her ensuing years of solitude. That doesn’t mean she isn’t curious.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
By the time she responded he’d already stripped off upper outer layers, tunics thrown in the laundry basket; tilting his head, presuming he’d been too caught up in thoughts to have bypassed her presence in the chair. Snorting, partially stripped, and sweaty, he inclined to make himself a nuisance and obnoxious in one fell swoop, long strides winding back through. Coming behind the seat and making his presence known by placing his muscled arms across the top of it and leaning over, the deep rumble in his tones spoke of his affection, but also the incredulous notions of recent days.
Uncertain how she’d receive the news, for his had been a mixture of disappointment, bewilderment, and some new level of baffled perplexities, the process contorted around his teeth. But he’d thought about it on his run, and even now, shook his head. For the present, he managed it in his usual blunt and concise manner, concocting the events with brevity. She’d likely have a horde of inquiries no matter which way he placed the words. “We will be without an Advisor for the near future.” His eyes flickered downward, half-heartedly yearning to make a mild tease over the book nearby, but it didn’t match the occasion. Instead, a sigh marred its way through his chest and lungs, breath coming to flicker over the top of her crimson hair. “Noah has gotten himself cursed by Vi and is contained to the Hollowed Grounds until he fulfills his duties.”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
Evie hears him coming, even with the softer sound of his boots having been removed, but she can't crane her neck enough to see past the sides of her wingback chair until he is behind it and leaning over her. Far from obnoxious in her eyes, she hums a happy sound at his proximity and stretches upward to rest her temple against his folded arms.
She's not expecting that kind of news however, and her eyes widen into blue saucers. Admittedly, Grounder at her core, Evie assumes death first and foremost - but such news would not be delivered so lightheartedly. Deimos' heavy sigh has her blinking, wisps of fiery hair scattering across her face and making her wrinkle her nose slightly, resisting the urge to sneeze.
"Wait - cursed? You can't be serious!" Spoken for the expression alone instead of true disbelief, Evie twists slightly in her chair to stare agog up at her fiance. "I know he wasn't making much progress in the Grounds, but he didn't seem - I don't know, worried?" Noah had expressed concerns and a need for aid, yes, but he hadn't seemed at wit's end or anything of the sort. What could he have done so badly between their last meeting and now to have been cursed by his own god?
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
His bewilderment were touches and fringes of the same proximity and perplexity; though he’d had more time to process the confusion. With her leaning upon his arms, he snorted once more, listening to the disbelief, and lowering his jaw and chin so they settled close to her temple. “I would not lie to you,” he uttered with a wrinkle to his nose; perhaps some chicanery and mischief along the way, but certainly not about measures like these. Some interesting choices and decisions had been made in the process of quests and tasks, and were he not planted firmly along the chair, he might’ve shaken his head again. No, Noah hadn't seemed worried in the slightest - but something else. “He believes he was punished for his hesitancy.” Clever and quick, Evie would’ve noticed the way the demigod had strived to dodge his obligations in their last meeting, striving to re-route himself to Stormbreak’s ventures and angles.
Recalling other moments of the conversation, with the thunder and lightning overhead, his rumble persisted and continued. “He admitted to selfishness, and not being willing to give up what he wanted.” And there’d been nothing to refute there – the result clear, cut, and dry. “I offered him some advice and our aid again, and the rest will be up to him.” Whether or not he carried out explicit instructions, or simply deigned to ignore them altogether, could and would only be determined by the Forsaken.
Allowing the smallest of smiles amidst the bizarre turn of events, it quirked into the corner of his mouth, laden there as he watched her through his piercing eyes. “All of this to say we can make the decision for regional assets on our own this season.”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
Fond exasperation has her rolling her eyes, though he likely won't see it as she feels his warm breath against her temple - encouraging her to tilt her head sideways so she might feel his lips there properly, forcefully stealing a kiss with a little headbutt. "It's an expression love," she sighs in feigned aggrievance that's ruined by the fondness that pervades every word she ever speaks to him.
Hesitancy is a far more fitting answer, and Evie subsides for a moment as she ponders their interactions with Noah. He'd vainly tried to involve himself more with Stormbreak, and had repeatedly declined their offers to free him from some of his duties so he might spend more time in the Grounds. Looking back, she sees it far more clearly now. "That's far more likely. There's new leadership there now, and I doubt he helped instate it given the timing of things." She doesn't even know who it is herself, the grapevine having only provided the news that someone had finally claimed the crown. "Someone else made the move to finally help shape the Grounds before he did - and that's a damning blow." And though her tone is mildly sympathetic to the notion of being entrapped in a land you don't consider home, she frankly can't conceive why Noah hadn't moved more quickly. Gotten it over and done with if he felt that way about it all.
Of course, she has far more personal feelings about his reluctance to actually help the Grounds, but as a native, she feels she's allowed the sense of injustice and offense.
Noah's involvement in regional decisions has never been troublesome or irritating, but Evie can't withhold her soft laugh at Deimos' little smile. One less political meeting for him to have to weather - he must be delighted. "Then we shall hold court with me in my blanket," she decrees loftily, smoothing her hands over the blanket in her lap imperiously before breaking with a smile. "Do you have any initial thoughts? I think training the Shields is still a good idea, especially given the season." And with alliances not being so necessary in Caido, Evie suspects every region will be looking out for themselves and abandoning the notion of trading in the wake of Safrin's departure.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
Fondness remained despite the feigned protestations, obliging by moving his lips closer to her brow without the need for a headbutt. From there though, he tilted his head, centering himself regardless of his leaning posture or where they ended up; contemplating the strangeness and oddity of the spun out moments.
New leadership amidst the Grounds made his nose wrinkle for an entirely different reason. “I believe it is Dantalion in charge now.” He didn’t know the man well enough to pass a reigning judgement, save for the two instances he’d met up with him. “First time I met him he was caught in a bear trap,” came with a softer snort, a casual shrug of his shoulders. “But no, I believe that was part of the problem too.” The Ancient had taken it upon himself, and certainly not with Noah’s assistance, which had been the primary reason for his movement amidst the Hollowed sanctions. “Apparently Vi was not pleased,” which might have been an understatement, but where the Sword hadn’t been there to witness it, he could only take the Forsaken’s retelling.
All the speculations for Noah’s inward turmoils and tribulations could only go so far; they too had to move forward in the notions and expansions of Halo. Eventually, the man would return to the snowy district, changed and altered from his experiences. And truth be told, Deimos would be content to never be in another meeting ever again.
Alas.
Though he did laugh at her insinuation, making one of his own. “I would much rather hold court in the shower,” pushing off the chair, brushing away on glimpses of air and an arched, purposefully luring, brow. Turning back towards the bedroom, he still listened, eventually rustling through drawers to grab clothes. “Still want training, now more than ever.” Tilting his head, and permitting his voice to echo through the chambers, he recounted their last attempts. “Hadama did seem willing to trade. What are your thoughts?”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
The name is vaguely familiar, but admittedly Evie has no personal knowledge of this man - so it's easy to snort a laugh when Deimos shares his own, no matter how playfully disparaging. "Well, the Grounds has had worse rulers. Gods help them all the same." Though a leader is surely better than none? Lest the Grounds be consumed entirely by the Wilds. Though, privately, Evie wonders if that might be the quiet end of the book it has always needed.
Apparently, Vi has other plans. Or rather had, before Noah's blunder.
But who cares about those thoughts when there is a shower proposed?
Evie practically leaps from her chair, not so much as attempting to conceal her excitement as she follows in his wake. Whether she joins him or not, it's a view she's eager to see. "I think any magical items we might conjure from trading can be accomplished internally, and many of our fighters are already armed with such things." There could always be more created, but Evie knows with certainty that Halo is better off than most in terms of magical items in their possession. "Our plan was to train the Shields in Deepfrost. I think we should stick to that." They need not be swayed from their original path by the desires of other regions.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
Worse rulers highlighted on in particular, stuck and stark in their minds for eternities. His nose wrinkled on the residual memories, sharp no matter how many years had been put in between. “Doubtful he will be like Zariah,” and so he shrugged his shoulders, leaving the notions at that.
He should’ve expected her, but still snorted when her footsteps were quick and light over the floors; no longer thinking about reigning from blankets. He’d barely had enough time to remove his belt before she was following, in between doorways, and building upon enticements, lures, and teasing, the Sword proceeded in removing his pants. Persistent in the conversation, despite the stripping and divesting of clothing, he recalled the letter he’d set aside, pondering over how they should respond to it now. “Should I tell him in another season then?” For all intents and purposes, there’d been motivations and aspirations to give it a timely facet; but then there’d been other scales, plots, and momentums occurring. It had gone, perhaps foolishly, by the wayside.
Snagging at a clean towel from the closet, and breezily snaking off his boxers as well, he continued down the hall, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Agreed,” before the rumble echoed along the bathroom walls.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
"Could always be another Wessex. Or another me," she laughs slightly, that particular wound having scarred over with plentiful time, enough so that she can poke just the slightest bit of fun at it. An absent ruler, a temporary one, a repeat-run like Wessex...who could guess what sort Dantalion would turn out to be?
More importantly, why is Evie thinking about any other man at all when her husband-to-be is disrobing? Let's rectify that posthaste.
She trails him leisure, leaning against various door frames and hallway walls while blatantly watching and enjoying the show, confident her own clothing can be removed swiftly enough to allow her this moment of voyeurism. "Next season it is," she murmurs distractedly, eyes nowhere near Deimos' own. Then he has the gall to strip himself bare, and all thoughts of politics go out the window as Evie pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her crimson hair a pleasantly tousled mess as she stalks after him with a mischievous grin, confident in her toplessness. "No more trade talk. I suddenly need a shower too."
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
There were multitudes of scars and lacerations embedded in that statement, and he turned slightly, head over his shoulder, to study her. Both had long since meandered around the art of self-deprecation, but his brows furrowed just the same, histories intermingling through the webs and discretions of time. Careful and meticulous, he chose a safer alternative than diving headfirst into something that either didn’t need healing, or had been left on its own for too long. “I can hardly imagine,” he countered eventually, with a wry grin. Another Wessex sounded like a nightmare, and another Evie – “Just one of you is enough.”
Unbothered and unabashed in either his stripping or her watching, he placed the towel along the rack, reaching outwards, turning the shower on, and listening to the assailment of water press into resin. Waiting for the droplets to heat without his incantations, he shifted, piercing eyes taking her in again with the roguest of smirks. In the same shameless veil, the gaze held fast to the outline of her rampant display, his feet slowly, steadily, leisurely, maneuvering across the floor. A favored progression; the taunting, the teasing, melding and molding away distances with covetous, fleeting moments. Mere and minor indulgences, before either partook.
“How strange,” he murmured, closing any gaps with a brush of his finger over the hem of her pants. “Still overdressed though,” a deepening rumble over the echoes of cascades, the twitch of a smirk, the glide of his other hand coming to rest along her cheek. Lowering his head so his mouth brushed over hers, another provocation flickered, in between breaths, with a laugh to follow. “Shall I tell you about the Dragoon I met then?”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
Evie isn’t normally the type to make innuendos, but the fruit is hanging so low. Her smile is positively impish as her tongue vainly curls against the roof of her mouth, a helpless last attempt at holding it in. “You can’t envision two of me? Not even in a fantasy?” Evie has certainly envisioned two of him. Though she had mourned the realization that they would definitely need a bigger bed to make that dream come true.
He teases her with further, tempting knowledge, well aware she has room for little else in her head right now with the slowly increasing heat cloying the space between them in more ways than one. Alas, he knows she is equally weak to her own curiosity, so although she groans softly in the bottom of her throat at being forced into patience, Evie takes the bait (though she also begins removing her pants).
"You have until the moment the shampoo is out of my hair to say everything you want to share. Then I won't be patient any longer." It's a threat, a deadline, but one clearly led by the impatient heat in her eyes as she slips past him and into the tub to steal the first touch of water.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
What was meant to be a compliment somehow sequestered itself straight into innuendo, and he didn’t even bother fighting off the imminent eyeroll. “I said what I said,” pinpointing any jocular notions with the roguish edges of his smile, leaving her to wonder about whatever fantasies he’d ever concocted; his mind had always been a restless thing.
Another grin against her lips sealed the arcs and lilts of curiosity, and he’d eagerly swallow her groan had it been directed in other manifestations; for now, it was kept in basking heel, with the hooded depths of her eyes watching her slip out of any other restricting articles. A deadline and timeline caused a brief eruption of laughter, loud and echoing across the bathroom tiles, before she ghosted and spirited away, snagging at the water first.
The Sword didn’t much mind, another taunting escalation causing his brow to shift upwards. “Or else..?” for her mere threats alone often amused. But well divested of any of his clothing long before, he pursued and persisted, following in the wake of showering droplets; half-inclined to snag at all the cascades for himself. Instead, the rivulets clung to bare skin, while his mind strived to indicate passing semblances of a perhaps well-minded youth, but also foolish and naïve. Hands purposefully brushing past her to snag at the bar of soap, he volleyed it between his palms, setting up bait and traps and snares. “Apparently a Koa, from Stormbreak, wanted to expand the Dragoons and grant them authority throughout each land, without discussing this with any leader.”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
There's no greater vengeance Than learning to enjoy again
He is close for far too brief a moment, but the sound of his surprised laughter bolsters her immediately back to the level of radiance she always exudes in these private moments away from the world at large. Hair already beginning to darken and cling to the curves of her neck and shoulders, Evie arches a brow imperiously as she begins to reach for her shampoo - already accustomed to the pattern of who does what first when showering together.
"Oh there's no 'or else'. You have until then, and then I will have you." Calmly lathering the suds in her palms first, her confidence is shaken as he reaches past her for the soap, making it all the harder to focus on actually giving him that time to speak.
Damn him.
Still, there is room enough for offense from Evie, who had been raised in the closest equivalence of nobility the Grounds had to offer and as such could not dream of such political oversight. Hands freeze halfway through the roots of her hair, shooting Deimos a scandalized look. "I don't even know where to start with that," she deadpans, hands slowly resuming their pathways as she contends with the boldness of the young man's claims. "Not only is that incredibly presumptuous and politically dangerous, but the timing of such actions so soon after the supposed welcoming of Abandoned?" Already her tone goes loftier, concise grammar and syntax sneaking in from years long past - until she catches herself, and huffs as if in defiance of her parents' teachings. "And to tell you directly? He really must be young." Or particularly sheltered. Given how little they know of Stormbreak - and the prejudice they do know if it - perhaps that's a more likely explanation.
