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!
Deimos woke with a gasp, trepidation in his soul, and the vibrant glow of the bracelet.
For a moment, he cast nothing but shades of quiet, shattered breaths, staring into the darkness, save for the constant radiating reminder – his mind reliving the instances over and over. Safrin falling, broken, faded, muted, reaches of whispers from a puppeted Ronin, souls bunched and bound and then naught all over again.
The meanings had been clear, if they’d been real. But he had nothing more than the ominous beacons, earth-shattering inquiries, and no answers left to give. He wasn’t even certain if Ronin was still alive.
A hundred calculations scorched and surged through his mind – the need for correspondence, to tell the rest of the masses, to ensure the Supernova was all right, and then the multitude of preparations. Whatever they were supposed to be, now that they were going to be all too aware that even Safrin could not best what was coming.
But he sat up; his hands trembled and ribs ached and something like fear, dread, and consternation took over every inch of him – because he half-wondered what was bound to become of all of them. “Evie,” he whispered into the room, not wishing to disturb but having naught else save the choking rasp threatening over his throat. “Something happened.”
On Evie’s behalf, she sleeps peacefully, unaware of what is transpiring. Odd dreams here and there perhaps, disrupted by bouts of rolling over or cracking an eye open hazily to hunt for the glass of water on the nightstand. Deimos scarcely moves through the night - though they both sleep lightly - so when he moves all at once it begins to pull her out of her sleep in increments until his voice ushers into her ear.
Awake all at once from the sound of his voice, Evie catches the portion after her name despite the lingering haze, and she forced herself up onto her elbows to try and drive that away all the faster. “Hnnh? What’s wrong?” Blinking the sleep out of her eyes and immediately catching on to the severity of the moment, Evie sits up fully and reaches for Deimos in the halflight, hand landing somewhere on his arm as her face creases in concern. “What happened?” A nightmare is the best case scenario, but something in his voice tells her they won’t be that lucky.
reckless at heart but never unkind in a perfect world we could've been fine
Nightmares were an unfortunate, common place notion for the Sword, no matter how blissful his life was outside of trepidation and terror. An inherent thing, just as easily unrelenting to his mind as magic was to his veins, with too many horrors lanced and laced over the years and lives. This one had felt beyond real – nearly tangible, and the constant glow of the bracelet, now more than ever before, continued to signify the harsh weight of it all settling into his chest.
As soon as Evie stirred he felt worse for it, the apology on his lips as quickly as her hand on his arm. “Sorry,” he murmured, before raising the bracelet before her eyes, as if it would signify explanation enough. But it wouldn’t – and he released another trembling breath before the worst of the apprehension clung to his bones. “Safrin came back, in a dream, but - ,” his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, as if trying to continually piece it all back together in the dark. “She was very weak, and she had to use Ronin to say anything at all.” Uncertain if he was making any sense, he pressed his palms to his eyelids, striving to bring clarity. “Said she could not stop them, they were too strong.”
His apology is met with a quick shake of her head, rote by now. Even if it was only a nightmare, there is no amount of sleep Evie would not sacrifice to lend him comfort, a touchstone in the wake of such visions. The glow of the light trapped in his bracelet helps chase any vestiges of slumber away, though it makes her stomach sink to realize this must be another dream of Safrin, the same as the one that had roused him last time.
It’s clear he’s equally disoriented, and Evie leans close and wraps her other arm around him to provide support while he tries to explain in fits and starts. The notion of using Ronin is the only part that does not make sense to her, so she looks Deimos over visually first - gratefully finding nothing - before she asks for clarification. “Used him how? Does he need a healer?” Her magic may have no effect on her husband, but Ronin is not beyond her grasp - she is unsure if Remi has anything to help, as surely Ronin awoke beside him as Deimos just did. As for the rest, she immediately begins to plan. “It may be good to send out a missive to Halo at large to bring everyone into the Citadel and the old Palace. Anyone capable of traveling quickly we can encourage to go to the Refuge.” Skyboats would be too slow, and too easy a target. Tightening her hand on his bicep, she gives him a grim smile. “Even if it’s a false alarm and the threat is more distant, I would rather be overly cautious.” Evie prefers disgruntled Halovians to dead ones. “I can handle that if you need to find Ronin or Noah.” An offer, in case he feels overwhelmed, unsure which direction to take.
reckless at heart but never unkind in a perfect world we could've been fine
Surrounded and grounded, pervaded by her existence, gave him some semblance of relief. A gauge of tangibility, in a clawing dirge and requiem of dreams that still seemed to have a life of their own. And still, he strived to sift through starry particles and hollowed-out paths, owl wings, broken barbs with their own injustices. The primordial apprehension gripped and grasped like an old knife, and only the inquiry first and foremost dragged him away from the dreadful stupor, uncertainty weighing more heavily as the time passed. “He offered himself to her and she went within him?” His eyes narrowed, struggling to decipher the best description. He extended a hand, as if to demonstrate, but only had swirls and hues of his own divination to capture the image, and even then, it couldn’t quite match the level of powers and demigod order. “It must have been difficult though, because he collapsed soon after and she was gone,” shaking his head again, the wild edge to his piercing eyes raked over the surroundings. “I can send him a letter to make certain. Remi will take care of him,” and he presumed they wouldn’t want neither himself nor the Evergreen rampaging over to ensure all was well.
The plans don’t go over his head, but gods, the thought of trapping them all within Halo also maimed and tore, uncertain how best to protect and shield. “The other leaders need to be informed too.” And gods how he had no intention of abandoning his home and going to Sunjata’s Refuge. “Perhaps we can gather ideas collectively. I hesitate to shut everything down when we do not know what the threat is.” Especially when it could further target all of them at once. “And the shield is not done yet,” earned another force of dread – perhaps, because, he’d once thought they’d had enough time. “Noah said Vi wanted all the plants eradicated too.” Which seemed almost like a moot point for now – but his mind kept firing off calculations and machinations, drawing towards the bile in his throat. “I will contact both of them, if you want to put a notice out.” Because he did feel overwhelmed at this instant, like a witness to an end.
The notion of the Supernova collapsing makes her grip tighten and her frown deepen, only mildly assuaged by Deimos' comforts. While she can agree the couple wouldn't appreciate it, it takes a few moments of concentrated effort to contain the immediate urge for action that a healer's mind demands. "If you're sure," she defers quietly, shifting her focus to the latter half of the news he shares.
"It can be a voluntary basis for now," she agrees. "But some people will want to be overly cautious." Families, elders who cannot travel quickly, and those with family in other regions. "Right now, I would hesitate to call another meeting with the people. Time is of the essence, and we need to get the barrier operational." The notice will have to be enough for now, and individual concerns could be funnelled through the appropriate channels to meet the Warden's ears directly. Vi's input on the topic makes Evie nervous; though she is devoted to Frey, Safrin and Vi hold her faith just as firmly given their presiding forces over realms of healing and life-preservation - not to mention Deimos' connection to Safrin herself - and she wishes vainly that Frey had answered her prayer. Not that she would have known the severity of the problems to come, so it is a moot point."You write to them and the leaders, and I will put up a notice." Leaning closer, she tilts her forehead against his and holds him for a moment in silence. "We'll figure it out. At least we have a warning now." Even if the idea of fighting off something stronger than Safrin makes her feel like she's staring down into an endless void, helpless.
reckless at heart but never unkind in a perfect world we could've been fine
Deimos wasn’t sure, but much of anything at this point, but he also knew better than to intrude upon Ronin or Remi in these states. Nodding to confirm only the slightest bit of certainty in the face of so much precariousness, he swallowed down another muffled barb; hands less trembling as they continued to plan, to take in what they knew and understood, in protection and safeguarding. Even if it against the vast and chilling unknown.
Another nod for agreement of the others, traversing and traveling where and when they were capable. As for meetings, he could only shrug, lost for a second in the haze of elsewhere again. “Perhaps in the upcoming season then,” if something can be arranged or they’re interested – pondering how many would be inclined to nestle within their own thresholds rather than explore further boundaries; ascertain where the threats loomed. If it had been the weather, the plants, the changes in everything else…what and how could they combat it?
The barrier was a foremost conclusion in his mind. “I do not think we have much else to do,” besides a few more rainbow collections. “So that should get done quickly.” And then they would have to decide if they wanted, or could, do more, but calculations hastened efficiently, smoothly, across their tongues and minds despite the warring efforts. “All right,” he mustered. “And the shelter for the palace, and improvements to the infirmary...” and he suddenly went still, as soon as her brow pressed against his, and he closed his eyes, tried to remove the cloudy and murky fixtures from his mind. “I am sorry,” for what, he wasn’t certain. Maybe the clustered bout of chaos they found themselves immersed within again. Maybe for bringing her into all this madness years before.
Evie is more willing to hear from their citizens than the other leaders, but in her eyes both can be put aside right now. The seasons are changing and their quest for Frey is nearly complete. Preparations are important, but they are already doing all they can. Inviting further stress upon themselves as Wardens is not in her books right now. "Exactly. We'll think about it later." Right now, Deimos himself is her first priority given all he has just witnessed.
She can feel the way his brain stops circling the issue the moment she holds him close, and it's a relief. It's hard not to think and plan and prepare themselves into a corner. Evie knows that. Right now, when there is no date to look toward, no certainty surrounding who their foe is, and no way to return to Safrin, there's nothing they can do. With that in mind, all she wants is to hold him, to appreciate this moment for what it is.
"I'm not," she whispers in return, her certainty contrasting the vagueness of his apology. She has no regrets; not for being his friend in the Grounds, or for moving to Halo, or for running back to him when isolation became too much. She's not sorry she became his lover, his fellow Warden, or his wife. "Nothing about this is your fault. And even if it was, I wouldn't regret a single thing." Not if it all ended with her here in bed with him, married and happy despite the horrors of the world around them.
reckless at heart but never unkind in a perfect world we could've been fine
His citizens would always come first and foremost, but they were within reach, while the rest of the world was not – letters had only been a singular solace in striving to ensure Caido’s ends had been contacted. And while it had been some time since he’d been properly overwhelmed, he could feel the edges sinking and clustering together, the weight on broad shoulders suddenly very heavy, uncertain if whatever they were striving for would be enough –
The spiraling machinations ceased at her words, and he took a large breath, a strangled sort of gasp in his chest. “Okay,” was another whisper, striving to set the calm back into his own stormy, mercurial mind, on better things and her and pieces that weren’t fractured or so wholly out of place. He didn’t lean in any further, not wishing to place more burdens, but stayed, still, and that seemed to be enough for the moment. His eyes went to her hands in the dark, fingers grasping and clenching, thresholds for balance and support, only pausing at her next set of statements.
He swallowed down another staggering and oppressive notion; collecting all the refrains and painting them in resolute notions for the back of his mind. Not his fault. No regrets. A staccato anthem, placed along the faultlines and doubts and hordes of transgressions. An old refrain almost clamored over his tongue again (the primordial I do not deserve you), except this time he smothered it down with all the other harsh reminders, holding steady in grounded gazes. “So we will weather it together,” first and foremost. “I love you,” the second, and the ease of withdrawing the heartache settled somewhere in his lungs. “Then I will only apologize for the unknown.” And what might come of it. “But Halo is strong, and so are we.”
Strangled though it may be, Evie takes her own relieved breath in silence when he breathes at last, the spiral she can see consuming him momentarily halted. She knows it won't last forever - for either of them - but any moment of peace is worthwhile.
Her hand finds his in the dark to intertwine their fingers and hold tight, giving him something tangible and real to hold onto after a night of horror. "I love you too," she vows it, sentiment like a stronghold in her tone. As unbreakable as them and their people. "We'll get through this, just like you said." She will never promise it - has seen the downfall of those too many times - but hope and faith are things she can supply in its place.
Untangling their hands so she can gently turn his face toward her, Evie kisses him gently, easing over the harsh and fractured lines with utmost care. When she withdraws, she lets her thumb caress over his cheek. "I think sleep is a lost cause. How about we make some breakfast?" The dark won't stop them, and maybe a return to normality will help, even if it's only for a few hours.
reckless at heart but never unkind in a perfect world we could've been fine
A moment and not much more, but he has learned to appreciate those; even if for this instant, it seemed like a small, tremulous, tender thing, doomed to be gone within a second. Sheltered for fractions and minute points, tiny sanctuaries of their own making because if he started glancing elsewhere it’d splinter and ricochet. Much to be done, and not enough time for any of it; a warning and a beckon and a plea all within singular grasps. Tangible and real and whole and valued in so much more notions than his words could ever provide, his fingers took hold like roots, a nod against her brow as more were uttered.
And when she took hold of his face instead, his piercing eyes landed on hers, striving not to encompass every ounce of fear and dread in his soul; kissed away on gentleness and faith. “Okay. And then we see what we can do.” Because that was concrete and corporeal; just as much as her conviction and his determination.
