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 plans of previous seasons, when peace had spread its broad fins over the world and allowed them the luxury of pursuing simple pleasures, hung in precarious balance with Safrin's departure and the world on edge once more. The Court of Stars or the Underwater City's palace might have been more appropriate for such solemn discussions, but Hadama found himself seeking the tranquility of the Miana Pool for his seasonal meeting with his co-ruler. Neither of them truly needed a reminder of the gravity of the new situation they found themselves in, but the lagoon's life, even in the cooler seasons, helped the mermanta to keep things in perspective.
He floated at the edge of the pool next to a large flat rock that was popular for both Mer and humans to sun themselves on, soaking up the bright rays from above that helped to warm the Deepfrost-chilled water. "I would like to reconsider our decision to gather more Shells this season," he admitted slowly. "At least until we know more about this threat."
For once, the woes on Harper's mind are not ones he feels he can share with Hadama, and as such he is rather quiet and introspective today as he and his friend sit sunning in the bleak winter sunlight. Sunjata's words paired with his lady's disappearance has shaken his faith, but he has no one else to go to about it other than the Flood himself. Even thinking of it in Hadama's presence feels heretical. The pink stone sitting on his chest feels like a weight around his neck, dragging him deeper -
Hadama's words shake him out of it, though he only blinks quickly as any sign that he was startled. The Tidebreaker may have felt how distant and dark he was through the bond, but more important things are on the table today than his own mindset.
"While magical items are important, I think we need to train up our soldiers if we can. We lacked fighting proficient bodies during the war more than magic." They'd barely had anyone to spare, to the point where a young man had perished after getting involved. If they'd had even one more fighter against the Kingmaker as well, perhaps the fight wouldn't have been so close.
if brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy
He was quiet, but the mermanta was not blind. It was only natural that there were things they did not share with each other; details of their personal lives and aspects of themselves that they only shared with one or two others. But Harper had not been a man overly given to silences and dark waters in the Attuned bond before the previous year. Those silences had stretched longer and longer between them with almost every meeting, it seemed, and the Bond grew ever more silent.
But for reasons Hadama could not guess at, Harper was disinclined to share his burdens with his friend and co-leader. The Tidebreaker had held his own silence, not wanting to pry where he was not welcome, and there was always some aspect of rulership to distract them and keep them busy.
Like today.
But this season they were of an accord, it would seem, and the mermanta inclined his head in agreement and silent relief. "Yes," he rumbled. "I agree. Trade has not proceeded as I had hoped." It was a reluctant admission, but there was no denying the result. Although he had made efforts to secure agreements with Stormbreak and Halo, Sohalia had rightfully chosen to put her region's improvements as their priority, and Deimos had never responded to his acceptance of a trade meeting. "We have willing men and women. Among both humans and Merfolk. This is a good season to train them." Neither as wet as Flowerbirth's monsoons nor as sweltering as Longheat's days, Deepfrost provided an ideal time to engage in strenuous outdoor activity.
"We should try to finish the Luck Fountain next season, too," he added, a faint frown drawing his brows together. "And decide which god to approach for a new weapon or defense for Torchline, if Safrin has not returned by then."
For any other grievance or weight on his shoulders, Hadama would have been the first ear he sought. However, the two had once been united in faith on the subject of Safrin. There is a stifling fear now, an expectation that perhaps Harper shouldn't hold but nevertheless does; that if he confides in Hadama, he will be spurned, rejected by the mind of a more faithful man.
Perhaps then it's a boon that in this, they feel the same. Though their debates have never been anything less than pleasant, relief washes over him the moment it's made clear that in this they are agreed. "Trade can always be resumed in later seasons, I don't think we should give up on it entirely. But it would make sense for everyone to be on edge and worried in the wake of Safrin's departure - not just us." And, in the end, they need to take care of their own before they can extend a hand to their fellows. "I think we can agree on training soldiers for this season." Which leaves only what would best serve them after the Luck Fountain is completed.
"We can put it to a vote, but meetings often have the same voices speaking the loudest. Would you feel comfortable approaching Frey? They're often regarded as the most neutral." Harper would normally lean toward a vote in the first place, but recently...well, his patience has been running out, and already their current quest has dragged on longer than planned.
if brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy
Harper's relief was met and matched by Hadama's at their harmony, and the mermanta nodded in firm agreement that they would try trading again someday... just not now. "We will send out the notices for recruits and begin the training immediately," he agreed. It would take more than a season to make warriors of fishermen, so the sooner they could begin, the better.
He inclined his silver head in acknowledgment of Harper's point, though there was a pulse of wry agreement in the Bond. "Their voices are important, but our last quest has taken much longer than I expected," he admitted. "In peace, it did not matter so much. But now that there is a threat..." Hadama trailed off with a shake of his head. "We must be able to move quickly." They were Kings, and at times that meant making decisions without the input of others.
The suggestion was met with a thoughtful silence; not from reluctance, but in the mermanta's way of thinking through something slowly and methodically before he spoke. "Their nature aspect is respected by many of my people." The power of the ocean and the delicacy of the various biomes beneath the waves made Nature's herald a popular deity. Going to Ludo while Safrin was away felt like a betrayal, and Dygra was too much of an unknown. Vi would have been ideal, but the Great Gods did not tend to involve themselves so personally in the regions, making the choice a relatively simple one. "...Yes. I agree with Frey."
Harper is admittedly prone to character flaws such as martyrdom and even some form of tyranny for the sake of protectiveness. Things his mind instinctive shies away from, yes, but extremes he has already seen himself go to during war times in his former homeland. It’s a relief then to know Hadama agrees and that he is not simply falling down a rabbit hole of darkness.
He knows he won’t be able to ask Frey all he wants to ask during that meeting, but his traitorous heart quietly thumps against his ribs, Sunjata’s tired eyes and Frey’s claim on him shifting puzzle pieces out of place and leaving Harper strewn amidst them, discomfited. “Then we have our plan. Now we just need to survive the meeting.” His wry smile is a clear indicator of his pessimism, but nobody could ever say he was short on hope.
- Fin!
if brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy
