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!
After some, albeit slightly forced, rest and rejuvenation from Evie, Deimos was once again out along the cobblestones and routes of Halo. It’d been hours since his last patrol, but this time he pulled the sled, with its vessel containing hordes of supplies to bring back and forth to bases of operation. Sometimes it was the shelter with a fresh amount of food, linens, and any other necessities, sometimes it was the infirmary, to restock bandages and gauze. It kept him occupied and the restlessness down, away from the carnage and wreckage forming a continual loop in his mind – the void creatures, the water swelling outside their walls, the strange moon settled into Torchline’s sea, and anything else doomed and damned to come.
The agonizing inquiries about what to do next – after repairs and reconstruction, after seeing to the people, always lured and lurked in the back of his mind. Because, would all of this simply persist, as long as that isle remained? Would rushes of other trials and tribulations rush to the forefront? What about the illness Flora had mentioned in her letters?
His jaw clenched and he forged onward, Zuriel behind him, Belial ahead, hooting and hollering to anyone he recognized. Eventually, he ceased motions outside the Palace and shelter’s quarters, surveying the parcels within the sled, and between the gilded glow of his hands, utilized the creation incantations to construct more.
Noah braved the icy winds as he rode Vi’dore through the cold, glittering streets of Halo. The unicorn’s steps brought him through the waving and intersecting paths faster than his own feet would, though this sight against the backdrop of frost-kissed buildings was not unfamiliar to the people. Noah was usually out and about.
As Noah turned a corner, he spotted a familiar figure bundled up against the chill. ”Deimos,” Noah said as Vi’dore came up on the warden. The demigod slipped from his back and patted his neck as he walked around him. The companion snorted and leaned his nose towards the Sword, expecting his usual treat; but, his ears rotated towards Zuriel and it was very clear the stallion was keeping his eyes on the mare. ”What are you working on?” Noah asked, inspecting the sled.
He wasn’t surprised to hear the hooves of Noah’s unicorn, nor the Forsaken himself, merely lifting his head from his current task, in a deep rumbling welcome. “Noah.” If the tone came out tired and fatigued, worn around the edges, then so be it; he couldn’t quite escape and evade the semblances for much longer. “Bandages and gauze for now,” which wasn’t all fanfare and whims; driven into necessities again and again. The rolls appeared in his hand, and then he added them into the parcels, dividing them up evenly for both shelter and infirmary.
Meanwhile, Zuriel narrowed her eyes and was quite close to pinning her ears at the stallion, for no other reason except that she could. Deimos extended a treat to both just the same, pilfered from his pockets with a residual notion and vague smile. “Have you been to the Grounds yet?”
He could feel the pulse in his mind of Vi’dore and his desire to be closer to Zuriel, even as treats were consumed and places established. Noah chuckled some, but his eyes fell from the unicorns and to the sled that Deimos pulled and filled. A nod of understanding, and then the Forsaken crouched. As Deimos created, Noah gathered and organized.
”Yes.” Noah said simply, his hands busy rolling and placing the bandages in boxes as Deimos made them. ”It was about as productive as any meeting with Danta.” He followed up, a glance up towards Deimos and the annoyed flick of his eyes filling in as many blanks as the silent communication could. Once one box was full of gauze and bandages, Noah moved on to filling another. ”But overall the land seems okay. There was some flooding, but nothing near as bad as here. Similar to King’s End.”
02-10-2024, 12:47 PM (This post was last modified: 02-10-2024, 06:30 PM by Deimos.)
DEIMOS
Zuriel’s nares closed to narrow slits and ears pinned directly to the back of her head at the stallion’s still-far-too close presence, and Deimos muffled the sigh flickering through his lungs. Belial was usually the obnoxious one, though the peryton had now settled near his feet, curling over boots.
His attention drifted to other pertinent information, hands still occupied and glowing all the while, continuing to disperse new portions of gauze. Brows furrowing lightly, he tilted his head, uncertain of the measure behind Noah’s words. “What do you mean?” While he might regard Danta as somewhat foolish, and bizarre, his conversations with the Ancient had never been unproductive, at least. Even the picture of annoyance rankling along Noah’s features didn’t particularly highlight anything of value or worth, unless it was that they simply irked one another. At that, they’d have to tread lightly too – unfortunate in the realm of political maneuverings.
Heaving another long and slow breath, he listened to the other notions of the Hollowed Grounds. It seemed to be as Kiada had described as well – and he nodded. “Did they need help with anything?”
He probably should have waited, for no sooner had he asked the question than another messenger came prowling down the streets, handing him a letter from Dantalion himself. Brows furrowing once more, he abandoned the creation for a moment for opening the message, before a look of confusion crossed his face. Showing it to Noah, the Sword's eyes narrowed. "Do you know what this is about?" While he gave the Forsaken a moment to look, he snagged a piece of paper and charcoal out of his bag, already beginning to pen down initial thoughts.
02-14-2024, 01:22 AM (This post was last modified: 02-14-2024, 03:19 AM by Noah.)
I know it's hard to abandon your path
"Well, he's an asshole that doesn't care about anything. He hasn't opened any letters from anyone, and when informed of the threat that is facing us, he couldn't be bothered." The hunter said, clear frustration in his voice. It was the apathy that Danta waltzed around with, mixed with the arrogance he spoke with, that bristled against the demigod. How the fuck could such a creature--man-- even --
But there was something else here. the Forsaken stopped his rolling of bandages.
Noah took the letters and read them over, an eyebrow lifting. "I hadn't told him about Vi." Noah said simply. The words were accompanied by the silent darkening of his thoughts and feelings across the attuned bond. The hunter handed the letters back to Deimos, ready to leave it as it was.
The demigod didn't feel in the mood to defend himself. He had nothing to defend himself for. He was doing Vi's work, and if Noah was going to answer to anyone about it, it would be the god of life himself.
He loved Deimos -- he did, truly. The warden was his best friend, but he wasn't his father.
"I am not part of your council, Deimos." It was very clear to the hunter that the Ignatius couple no longer wanted his help, no longer wanted his input in the region he grew up in and knew like no other. "I did not do anything for or against Halo."
Ever the patient listener, the Sword strived to remain neutral on the confusing and confounding notions suddenly sprung upon him – speculative, open-minded, pondering where everything met in the middle. His experiences with Danta had not been of the same quality; while the Ancient had an indifferent air about him, he certainly hadn’t left his own kind to rot and wither as many of the past Grounds’ leaders had. Kiada had told Deimos of the bonfire, at the very least, and they’d already been working towards something else with the void creatures. “And what did you say to him?” Tone even-keeled, head tilted, trying to circumvent how the events had come to spiral out and around.
What he didn’t expect, amongst all of these conundrums, was Noah’s admission. He’d always known the Forsaken to be proud of being a chosen force of Vi – whether this was spreading the deity’s wisdom, quests, or adornments. “Why not?” Something else lurked and leered that Deimos couldn’t name, for no sooner had the Attuned bond serpentined away, leaving the Warden with only the measures of bewilderment flickering through the web of machinations.
Nor the impending vitriol and bite, and he raised his head, taken aback for an instant. “You lost your council seat when you were chained to the Grounds.” Had yet to seem interested in taking it back, given everything else occurring, and what the leaders had presumed was already a full plate in continuing to attend to the Hollowed sanction. Based on these current events, he couldn’t be certain of Noah’s advice would be paramount to everything else crashing down around them, and he fought the rise of frustration threatening to brim along his chest. “Regardless of what you believe, it does not free you from accountability or responsibility. You do represent Halo. Your actions speak volumes. You must be aware of that.” As both demigod of Vi and Halovian. “Nor do I deserve your ire.” Taking the letter back, he unfurled a long, slow breath.
It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Evie’s fault. There were a modicum of events leading directly back to Noah and Noah alone – failing to complete his task. Being cursed to the Grounds. Completing said quest and returning home, only to anger and vex another leader.
"When was the last time you shared with a near stranger that you didn't trust your deepest and darkest shame?" Noah replied, when asked why he didn't share about Vi's chaining of him to the Grounds with the Maverick.
With his end of the bond silenced, Noah could center himself.
He continued to pull on his own heart, to damped the flames that raged and roared and threatened to burn the Maverick and what little he stood for. "The rest of us, we're all working as hard as we can to keep the ones we love and the ones we serve safe. Danta is not. He has blatantly ignored the heed and warning of all other lands. He told me that." Noah said, keeping his voice even despite the coldness in his tone that rivaled that of which was used when talking of Neron. In fact, Danta had said "I imagine it has something to do with the pile of letters on my desk." when Noah brought up the state of the world. "I told him it would be prudent to pay attention to what was happening, and maybe listen to the rest of the leaders," Noah gestured vaguely, remembering that was when Danta had a little bit of a hissy fit, "and Danta didn't like that. He got up in arms because someone had the balls to show more concern for the Grounds than he does."
He hated feeling angry. He hated feeling bitter. As riled up as he could get, and it seemed more and more often these days and tensions rose across the world once more, he hated it.
"I'm not angry with you, and you didn't deserve that. You're right, and I am sorry." He said to his friend. Noah crouched and rocked back on his heels some, continuing the work with the materials and supplies in Deimos' sled to keep his hands busy. "But my actions were nothing more than advising Danta to care a little more about his home, and telling him that I would still be helping there. He is the one who couldn't handle himself and his own emotions, as is easily seen in that letter. Representative of Halo should you still call me, I'll stand by the fact that I did nothing wrong." Noah didn't burn any buildings down, at least.
Most of Deimos’ deepest, darkest shames were covert stories or tales already spread far and wide, between LongNights and friends destroyed because of his actions. Things he’d never forgive himself for. This, a curse, may not have been the source of such sorrow for the Forsaken, but certainly guilt, in the tangible threads of his own missed opportunities. “You could have gone without specifics.” He shrugged, for many a time he’d harbored information without granting it fully; common war tactics. “Simple: Vi gave me a mission in the Grounds.” Perhaps then Danta would’ve respected the ventures a bit more, and Noah wouldn’t have bristled, and there wouldn’t have been reason to even hold these conversations.
The Sword kept his restlessness at bay too, hands creating once more, before placing them amidst their individual packages and boxes. And all the while he listened, to Noah’s frustrations, to the twist and turn of Danta’s contradictions, eyes falling occasionally to the ground, or the buildings around them. Even keeled again, a long breath extended from his chest into warm puffs of air nearby, head shaking briefly. “And while your words may have been to assist and aid, they did not come across that way. We do not always agree with how other lands are run, but that does not mean we can harass another sovereign into committing what we expect.” A portion and piece of ‘not our business’, difficult to muster and manage sometimes, when lines apparently crossed and blended, when missions were regarded wholeheartedly at some junctures.
He paused, mind roaming over other circumstances, knowledge, particles, and pieces. “Were you aware that he ensured the Grounds had a regional quest from Dygra? The first for the bonfire to protect the Ancients, and now, to ensure the void creatures could not come in?” Because there seemed to be a lot of missing slivers and shards between the two, and simply because Danta disregarded letters, or seemed indifferent, didn’t mean he was.
He accepted the apology with a nod, navigating through the rest of the speech. “Informing a leader of what you will be doing in their land would be enough, however, to find yourself out of their graces.” Deimos couldn’t imagine someone else stomping in to tell him or Evie how to run their region. “Would you have received it well, had you been in his place?”
Noah paused in his building of first aid boxes. ”If I acted like I didn’t care when it’s my job to care, and someone told me that, I’d pay attention.” He remembered that they both had removed leaders for such carelessness and blatant disregard. It burned in Noah’s chest, the ire and disgust of it all. ”I lived in the Grounds for some seasons, Deimos. I do know about that region currently.” Was all he gave in response to what Danta had done — the minimal, self-focused things he had done.
”Let’s be done with this.” Noah did not feel as if Deimos was listening to him, hearing him, understanding him. He felt his friend was only stuck on Danta’s side of things. ”You weren’t there, Deimos. You can continue to lecture me about how I’m not allowed to argue or have genuine emotions and frustrations, but then I think you should grab each and every member of your region—“ Noah’s natural region, his home, his love, ”—who has ever had a disagreement with someone from another land.”
Noah finished his last first aid box, placed it back in Deimos’ sled, and called upon his companion to accompany him home.
