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!
01-01-2024, 06:37 PM (This post was last modified: 01-01-2024, 07:08 PM by Sohalia.)
Sohalia
Sohalia arrived in Halo with little fanfare, grateful, for once, to be just another face in the crowd. She'd boarded the skyship from Stormbreak without knowing what would wait on the other side and had wondered the entire trip if she'd again be forced to abandon the ship and fly the rest of the way, like she had in Torchline. Fortunately, it seemed that Halo - though undoubtedly hit hard - had not been quite as devastated as the coastal region. Or, at least, their skyport had remained intact.
She wasn't sure where she would find Deimos or Evie, but she'd come to help, and she knew that finding one of them would be the quickest way to determine what was needed. As the Heart made her way through the Citadel, she felt the same dismay she'd felt in Torchline. How was it that such destruction had been wrought on Caido, and yet her region had felt none of the effects?
Deimos, as it turned out, was easy to find, a helpful citizen more than happy to point her in the right direction. So it was that the girl approached with her head held high and her lips pressed in a thin line, trying very hard to channel the calm stoicism that was Hadama. "Deimos. How can I help?" she asked upon reaching his side.
If he kept himself busy, there was less time to think about the influx of letters continuing to come in. Every once and while, a messenger would pass by and the semblance of dread would counter against his ribcage, bore deep into his soul, and then deliver more uncertainty. He’d yet to hear from Kiada, and kept that in the back of his mind for later scrawling purposes – because for now, it was a return to semblances of fortified steel and forged reticence.
Having already encountered many of the masses parsing their way through the Bay, and multitudes traversing their way towards the Palace for sheltering circumstances, he’d spent hours maneuvering supplies. Sled in hand, he and his companions had gone back and forth along roads, delivering whatever was needed or required from others – wood, meat, medical necessities – until someone else came alongside and asked for another.
So he was only mildly surprised, eyes widening, when Sohalia was at his shoulder – blinking thoughtfully, pretending he'd gotten enough sleep in the past hours, then remembering he’d sent missives asking for assistance, he swallowed another breath. “Sohalia – thank you for coming.” Which sounded like an echo and refrain at this point, but he meant it. “I am delivering supplies at the moment,” jutting his jawline towards the Palace. “We have an emergency shelter in place, so I have been retrieving whatever they need.” At the present instant, it was bandages – boxes upon boxes, already created by his hand. “How is everything else?”
She couldn't imagine being in Deimos's position, and as she joined him in his walk towards the Palace, her heart hurt for the Warden. She admired what he'd been able to do in Halo in a relatively short timeframe, organizing aid as best he could while being knee-deep in providing it himself. A not-so-small part of Soh was glad that her own region had been spared. She wasn't sure she'd have fared as well, in his position.
"Of course," she said gently, offering a small, sad smile. If Deimos was delivering supplies, there was little she could do other than walk alongside him for now, though when they arrived at the Palace, she would be happy to hand them out without complaint. "It's good that your people have somewhere to go. I brought some supplies with me - they're at the skyport. I wasn't sure..." She swallowed hard. She hadn't known what she was flying into, what they might need. "Anyway, they're yours if they can be of use."
As for everything else... her face fell. "Torchline is devastated. I had to fly in with my shift. Their skyport is destroyed. It's making sending aid... difficult." She paused. It felt wrong to admit that Stormbreak was untouched while surrounded by Halo's pain. "Stormbreak is fine. Our altitude saved us." It was why she was here and not there, why she had been traveling in an effort to help her fellow leaders. What use was it to stay home, when all their friends were suffering?
For all the times he might’ve found Sohalia a tad too innocent and unaware, at least she was offering and rendering aid; knew, and understood, the level of circumstances at hand. That was far more than some were willing to do in similar positions. So he nodded at her notions, continuing to drag the sled down the roads. “We can grab them,” he assured on his deep rumble, with the Palace and skyport connected, it wouldn’t be a difficult trek. “We can check at the infirmary too,” with supplies being dispersed in multiple areas, for quicker and swifter access for the masses, it still meant they’d have to check in periodically.
While they walked, he listened, nodding, jaw clenching on the notions of Torchline, how disaster had fallen abrupt and bleak all in a matter of moments. From a shattered port, to likely hordes and hordes upon those lost amidst floods and ruins, devastation and crashes had wreaked havoc upon a world they’d all known and seen as a tangible paradise. “I heard. I intend to send another guild party there to assist with the void creatures, once we can get Halo stabilized.” As for Stormbreak, he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “That means your people are safe,” something they could all be grateful for, and he didn’t believe she should be bearing any guilt or shame for the notions. “And can likely lend more of a hand, which you are already doing.” A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, perhaps to lend to the reassurance – or he was simply tired.
There had been so much loss and devastation in recent days that it hurt Soh to think of it - but think of it she did, for what else was she to do? Koa had all but begged her not to visit Torchline, but the idea of sitting, safe and protected, in the refuge that was Stormbreak had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She might be all but useless, but at least she was willing to help. Willing to try.
She wondered where Koa - and the rest of her people - were now. Were they still trying to spread aid around the affected regions? Or had they returned home, hoping to maintain the peace and safety of Stormbreak?
"I've sent aid to them as well," she said, shaken from her reverie by Deimos's deep voice. "Hopefully they can get the skyport open again. It's... too difficult to ship supplies en masse right now." Her brow furrowed as she remembered the destruction she'd witnessed, the chaos she'd tried to help wrangle. Her attention shifted. "Void creatures?" she asked. Then a sigh. "I suppose it was too much to ask for there to be only the moon to worry about."
His long strides persisted across the grounds, the cobblestones and pathways familiar, even if the hurried pace and restless edges weren’t. Halo survived on its steadfast and determined people, and the crowds were there, within arm’s reach at all times, presiding along the multitudes of necessary means – finding each other, carrying equipment and necessities, tending to the wounded, ensuring fires were still lit – and eventually, the damage would fade. They would work and tend and mend until it was complete, shouldering burden after burden, and he didn’t wish it on any regions. Maneuvering forward kept his thoughts away from the loss and devastation, a numbing, concealing multitudes until he was ready to process the heartache.
They reached the skyport once more, and he motioned with his jaw for her to retrieve whatever she’d sought to bring. “If they cannot, perhaps some of us Attuned can head there to aid.” It’d be quicker and easier than traversing by boat or foot – depending on the shift.
As for the inquiry, he wrinkled his nose. “Was not just the new and dangerous plants. Our hunters noticed some altered animals.”
There was a part of Soh that felt nothing but guilt: guilt for leading a region that had emerged unscathed; guilt for choosing to go to Torchline rather than Halo first, even if they had arguably needed more immediate support; guilt for not being able to do more, offer more, even if she was doing the best that she could. She hurried along behind Deimos, taking two strides to each of his, noticing all of the activity surrounding them. It was a bit like seeing an overturned anthill, at first, but as they walked along, Soh began to see patterns and order, even in the insanity that was this unprecedented time. She admired Halo all the more for their persistence and hard work.
She only hoped that she could offer some kind of help.
At the skyport, she peeled away from Deimos to rummage through the boxes being unloaded from the skyship they'd chartered for just this purpose. Since he'd mentioned the infirmary, the Heart grabbed as many medical supplies as she could carry, leaving the rest alongside the bottles of water and perishable goods they'd brought along in an effort to keep the people of Halo fed and hydrated. "There's more than this, but if some of your people can just direct mine -" she asked, tone apologetic for having to steal some of Deimos's men away from their tasks to help distribute supplies.
She continued to follow along to wherever they were headed, not familiar enough with Halo to quite have her bearings. "So whatever dangerous flora and fauna we found last season," she thought aloud, brow creased. "They're... spreading?" She didn't much relish the thought. "The letter from last season, from Noah Olson - that Vi said we should destroy the new flora and fauna? Once things have stabilized from the moon, or the meteor, or whatever - should we be trying to hunt them down? Or... how widespread are these new plants and animals?" she wondered aloud. What if there were too many? What if it was too late?
He withstood the channels of shame and guilt marring the Attuned proportions, only furrowing his brow mildly as they seemed to storm and rise. They were tempestuous and mercurial edges that he was familiar with – having encountered enough misconduct and remorse in his life, but he wasn’t certain Sohalia’s was warranted in this case. It was no one’s fault that Stormbreak hadn’t been marred or mauled; they’d simply been protected by their location in the sky. Everyone else was land bound – and the Heart’s world had been marred before, regardless. So while she hastened reproach and culpability, the Sword merely arched a brow and sent more waves of calm, and perhaps, some inkling of impending exhaustion.
While Sohalia went to tend to the supplies, he directed several others to follow, and when she returned, they hastened away, nodding along and branching off to respective portions. “That is fine. Thank you,” he noted with a light, tight smile, well worn on the fringes, before turning down the short and direct route to the infirmary.
The sled contorted well over the cobbled terrain, and his form blended easily amidst the comings and goings of their fragile earth. Enough so concentration could wane slightly to Sohalia’s words, his piercing stare resolute and straight ahead. “Essentially. I received information about them in Torchline, King’s End, the Climb, and Hak Etme. I would not be surprised to find them in each region,” though he hadn’t been told of anything in Stormbreak yet. Nodding at indicated destruction, his vocals continued. “They cannot possibly mean well.” And they’d had enough experiences with the blight, and the second iteration of such a plague, to not warrant any other disease, or void indication, spreading.
It was only now that Sohalia was realizing that she had emerged from her sheltered life in the Hollowed Grounds at a time of peace, and that this must have been how people felt during all of the trails and tribulations that her guardian had so carefully hidden her away from. Not to say that there had not been challenges - of course there had - but she had been so carefully protected, so strategically sheltered, that she had known little of them. She couldn't quite decide if she was grateful to them or furious.
Her mind tucked and filed away the information Deimos offered, such as it was. "We knew of no damage when I left Stormbreak last," she murmured, her brow creased with worry. "But we were not looking for flora or fauna." She would need to send word to those she'd left in the region, to see if they could survey the creatures that existed in the city. She had particular concern, suddenly, for the Celestine and for Lena, for what if this... infection, if that was indeed what it was, managed to spread throughout the enclosures there? But for all her worry, she could hardly drop what she was doing to run back home. Maybe, when she had a moment, a letter...?
Perhaps a letter to Anju, as well - to see how many Dragoons remained in Stormbreak, to ask if perhaps they could divert some of the troops currently assigned to helping Torchline or Halo to the task of searching for these diseased plants and animals. She wondered if even such a hunt would be enough, or if they would continue to spread anyway. Then, realizing she'd gone quiet, she started. "I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought," she said, catching up to Deimos. "I understand that there were some infected variants in the Greatwood as well, or at least there were before the meteor - I would imagine they are still there."
The Sword wouldn’t know anything about a sheltered life; not with how he was born and raised, and continued to grow and prosper under the weight and mantle of warrior prowess. But not everyone had the same angle to livelihoods, and so while Sohalia might have been stunned by the way the world churned and burned over and over again, Deimos faced the chaos in his own pragmatic and survivalist methods. He protected and maintained, but knew the weight of the damning bedlam all around them; aimed to ease the burden by taking the brunt of it all on his shoulders. Halo persisted because that was who they were on foundational, stalwart, and determined levels; they would overcome it, just as they done before and after the war.
It was the in between, the near future, that bothered him more so.
With no information on the alterations pending from Stormbreak, the Warden nodded. Perhaps they remained untouched, just as they had been from the latest event, based on their topography. As the silence loomed, he continued to lead them to the infirmary doors, and began unloading while the Heart eventually talked, meandering out of her own thoughts. “The Greatwood has been very quiet lately. I am not certain anyone has taken on leading there.” Normally, it might’ve worried him, but Phoebe had a tendency to disappear, and the land itself seemed to absorb back into the surroundings quickly, easily; the Fae probably preferred it to everything else. “I can always send more that way, if need be.”
They arrived at the infirmary, and Sohalia joined Deimos in unloading the supplies. She'd heard much the same from the ex-Dragoon who'd accompanied Anju back to Stormbreak - Liam, his name was. She didn't know him well, but they had traveled together for a time, and she knew that he'd been living in the Greatwood before deciding to return to Stormbreak. She couldn't decide if she was grateful or suspicious. On the one hand, Stormbreak would take all the support it could get, especially from someone who had once called the region home. But on the other hand, it seemed... fickle, to her, to commit to one region only to waffle between.
Of course, she knew little of the man's history, so maybe he had his reasons.
"I'd heard as much," she murmured as she lifted a crate of medical supplies she'd brought along. "It might be worth checking on things, when we can." She'd spent a great deal of time in the Greatwood after first leaving the Grounds, and she admittedly had a soft spot for the region. She would hate to see it fall into disrepair. She tried not to think about Phoebe's disappearance, and of what it would mean for Jude. Not when he'd made it clear that she had no right to worry about him anymore.
The Infirmary wasn’t an overwhelming sight, but certainly a busy one. Menders and nurses came flickering in and out of halls, across wooden pathways, tending to those already gathered in their forefront. Others checked out those coming and going, examining injuries and illnesses, surveying wounds quickly and efficiently to see what could be done. There were bodies to identify as well, but they’d been carefully tucked off to the side until potential families and friends could be contacted, and in the brambles of chaos, it was difficult to surmise when that would occur.
Already used to the scene, Deimos brought forth boxes of the medical supplies, setting them on the closest desk, only to watch them immediately swept away by a worker. Sohalia’s crate managed much the same, and he returned to the sled, back and forth, insinuating the same responses as staff pulled away bandages and gauze.
The Greatwood, unfortunately, wasn’t on his priority list, but he understood the concerns. “The Fae have always taken care of themselves,” he surmised, based on his interactions with the mighty, fierce warriors. “But that does not mean it remains as it once was.” Sighing, he tied his hair back, before retrieving anotber container. He probably could have stood right there and created dressings, slings, and compresses for the rest of the day. “When we get the opportunity,” he nodded, though the Heart would be able to see from their current plight, it might be a while. “I have a hunting party going out into the Tundra soon, and then we will be heading to Torchline.”
The infirmary was much as Sohalia had expected: an ordered sort of chaos that whisked away supplies as soon as they were deposited. Fortunately, Soh had spent time in Torchline helping with such things, and had long since stopped vomiting whenever she was around the seriously injured or the dead. It didn't stop her stomach from rolling, though, but at least she was able to swallow down the nausea and focus on how she could best be of help. Which was decidedly not being sick.
It was just hard - she was young, naive, and unused to such violence, and seeing people in pain and beyond help had taken its toll on her. She wasn't sure if she'd ever sleep soundly again, without the moans and praying and begging of the injured echoing in her mind. Maybe that was the price she paid for having emerged from tragedy unscathed. Perhaps this was how the world ensured that none of them went without nightmares.
The Greatwood, she would agree, was not a priority. From what little she'd heard, few people remained in the area aside from the Fae, and though she would be happy to help them if she could, there were areas in far more urgent need. As Soh carried supplies into the infirmary, depositing her loads before immediately returning for another, she said, "What are you most in need of here? If Stormbreak can send anything - supplies, or people - we will be happy to do so. And to Torchline, as well."
01-09-2024, 10:53 PM (This post was last modified: 02-23-2024, 12:43 AM by Deimos.)
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
The battlefield had been a stark education in injuries, demise, and thereafter – so much so that the sterile whiteness of everything didn’t bother him, so much as make him relive other moments he had no mind to share. He could exist within its realm in a detached sort of way – numb to the beckoning outcries or the rampant sources of blood, because he’d lived through it all before. He worked and maneuvered, supplied when there were demands, and continued in that consistent role of provider; but never a mender or healer.
While Sohalia contemplated, Deimos began refilling another container, creation of bandages winding between his hands in gilded rolls, gauze flickering thereafter, until that too was taken. His gaze swept back to her at the next set of words though, and then along the positions amidst the infirmary. “Likely both lands will need the same – any healers and those capable of repairing. Bandages and lumber will probably be in high demand.” He wasn’t certain how much of those could be found within Stormbreak, but any amount helped.
And thereafter, when discussions waned, he could oblige more gratitude. "Thank you, again." There would be more need, more aid, in between lands and regions in due time.
