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!
It was just as well that he and Evie had agreed to meet at the southern portion of the walls – away from the gates and traffic, the rising bay or the tumultuous rise of frustration beckoning between his ribs. Folding the horde of letters into his jacket pocket, after tending to trainings and patrols for the day, he ventured at the designated time towards the lined defenses, dragging the sled, Zuriel, and Belial beckoning overhead.
Grateful for the Longheat afternoon sun, and the Evergreen's own patience, he wasn’t surprised to see she’d beaten him to the spot – multitudes had risen in between the set junctures, and there'd been no opportunity for him to arrive earlier. “I bring you news,” and while one might be somewhat intriguing to her, the other was going to be less of a scheme and more of a frustrating plotline. “And snacks,” indicated by several wrapped objects accompanying the tools in the vessel behind him. The peryton hooted conversationally, before ascending to the top of the nearby wall, and the unicorn rolled her eyes.
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
02-18-2024, 12:18 AM (This post was last modified: 02-21-2024, 11:25 PM by Evie.)
Evie
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
With the season coming to a slow, dwindling end, it's strange to think how far they have come after such devastation. Evie ruminates over it all morning, filled to the brim with pride in her people and their resilience. Strengthening the walls is merely another step, and given that time and progress has meant a re-establishment of hers and Deimos' sleep schedules, she is bright-eyed and ready for work when she gets to the southern wall. Given she has arrived first, she uses the time to stretch plentifully, easing out any stiffness or aches manually.
Micah - lounging in the sun just beyond the shadow of the wall - alerts her to Deimos' arrival first, though he does nothing about it himself. Lifting her head, Evie smiles at her husband, only for a slight furrow of intrigue to form between her brows at the choice of words he greets her with. Snacks alleviate her concern slightly, but she moves to meet him all the same with a quick kiss. "What sort of news? Is it bad enough to warrant snacks first?" A full stomach might make the news easier to swallow - or perhaps she's just hungry.
Out of habit and routine, the Sword reached into his pocket of treats, flicking one to each of the companions in turn, keeping them occupied from irritating or distracting one another, before turning his attention upon his wife. The kiss was returned, permitting a smile to reach along his mouth for however long it would remain, given some factors in play. Billowing a breath obnoxiously across her brow, to see if the crimson hairs maneuvered in some bare amusement, he pulled away only to snag at one of the bags in his clutches, revealing unearthed confections in chocolate dipped pretzels.
Opening the satchel and snagging a few, he handed it over to her, a warning that she might want to take her fill. Chewing on them thoughtfully, his gaze went to the wall for a moment, already spying a loosened chunk at the top, before his eyes returned to hers. “Could,” granting a shrug, a warning while giving naught away – before he had to share at least one of the burdens. Nothing quite like previous bouts where he was going to the Draig, or other trials and tribulations he’d no longer discuss. “I will let you choose which first – Maea, Sunjata and I having a civil conversation, or Noah’s latest.”
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
02-21-2024, 04:46 PM (This post was last modified: 02-21-2024, 11:25 PM by Evie.)
Evie
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
Micah hardly gets up to retrieve his treat, clawing his way closer and earning a fond eyeroll from his bonded for his laziness. She would accuse Deimos of spoiling him, but she is equally spoiled if the snacks Deimos has promised are any indication, so she bites her tongue lest she lose out on them too swiftly. Not that it stops her from wrinkling her nose with a snorted laugh when his gusty exhale has her fringe billowing, tickling at her eyebrows and across the bridge of her nose. "You're lucky you're cute and have good snacks," she mutters through an ill-concealed smile, waiting until he has deposited them into her palm to say it and swiftly closing her fingers around them.
The cagey answer has her eyes riveting more firmly to his face while his own travel, allowing him the breadth of time he requires to answer while she chews on her own morsels. It's a blessing she swallows by time he answers, because her jaw drops open immediately, struck both dumb and speechless by the array of names he divulges so readily. A dead woman, a dead-to-Deimos man, and Vi's contradictory demigod. "I'm sorry, what?" Her voice goes strangled and pitched, completely flummoxed (and also immediately concerned for how her husband has managed to have this many concerning experiences in such a short timespan). "I - um - Maea, I guess?" It seems like the shortest answer, which is likely for the best given her bafflement.
Like a self-contained blizzard, a white dragon snarls overhead with an ursur clutched between its claws. Flying towards the high cliffs that no doubt are its home, it’s probably a good thing that it already has its dinner for the evening, lest you have become its meal.
You’ve encountered a White Dragon. This counts as a rare creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements. You may not kill your rare creature without admin permission.
White Dragons (Rare/mythical): Living in underground tunnels that are warded with ice and snow, white dragons hoard treasure and anything they deem beautiful. Often this means that one might find gold, gems, and frozen humans stored in their caves. They can speak the basic common tongue and can communicate telepathically with the attuned, though they are secretive, vain, and usually aloof and unhelpful.
He hardened for a moment, listening to the perilous sounds of the dragon overhead, eyes watching it in cold, shrewd calculations, before loosening altogether as it disappeared. Their frequency nearby had seemed to increase lately, at least in his experiences, and he didn’t like those particular nuances either.
But he’d take all the other distractions, like her, though his nose wrinkled in defiance a moment later. “Cute,” and he chewed upon another pretzel, the word still not sitting with him well. For that, he thought about mischief, but settled upon utilizing his earth incantations to fix and maneuver the loosened block above. Besides, it gave him ample opportunity to amplify the quandaries while she stewed, remaining silent and staring at him in some measure of disbelief.
He arched a brow soon after, given her squawk, like all his meetings were common-place notions instead of a multitude of the weird and twisted season alike. Maea being first caused him to regard her again, a brief study and scrutiny, pondering reactions – he’d heard some stories about their childhood, but never in full detail. “She is alive, and an Ancient now.” He paused, snagging at another bag of hidden food (sweet rolls), and watching as Belial began looming over, presumably, another weakened stone. “Helped with our hunting party in Torchline. Wanted training too.” Uncertain how Evie would gauge the entire situation, he opted to add in the Ancient’s line. “Said she was glad you found a place for yourself.”
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
Evie turns in tandem, and like two frozen statues they watch the dragon fly overhead and beyond into the tundra, tense and poised for action. Even his muttered, implied disagreement with her choice in words seems less pointed, and though Evie isn't in the habit of being thankful for dragons in Halo, she takes the win while she has the chance.
He turns the tables on her anyway, so perhaps they're even.
It takes a few moments to find her tongue again, a rolling wave of emotion flooding through her as she comes to terms with Maea's survival. Now it is her turn to spin slowly on her heel and look out over the wall, finding balance and security in utilizing her own magic to help strengthen and re-align stones. It connects her to the earth and stone, helps her navigate the maelstrom she finds herself standing in. "I'm glad she got another chance." She merely wishes that, tumultuous childhood aside, the only living friend she has from the Grounds could have told her she was - you know - alive.
She isn't sure how to take the sentiment handed down in her husband's voice, so she moves on to the next strange thing he'd reported. "And Sunjata? That sounds like something to celebrate, honestly. I'm proud of you, obviously." And though it would be easy for that to come off as sarcastic, her smile as she turns her head back to focus on him instead of the wall makes it clear she means it. She knows how turbulent their history is, and it's no small feat for them to have both played nice.
Easier to settle with the dragon clear across the tundra and sky, he diverted his attentions between stone and Evergreen, motioning the former in place until another portion of earth had countered and balanced, and waiting for the latter. The Hollowed Grounds always represented a piece of fractured lives in way other lands seemed incapable; all clustered together, encircled in their dynamics and histories spiraling out from one another. The journeys were long and labored from those central points, but somehow they always managed to segment back together in bizarre ways.
His head tilted, watching her even as he slid a sweet roll of out of the bag, biting down on half, chewing thoughtfully as she stood immersed into sentiments he couldn’t quite fathom or see. He bent into pragmatics first and foremost. “Seems like she is on her third.” Chance, or life – dead once in the sea, brought back by the Voice, and then altered into Ancient prowess. Not unlike Kiada’s, but he obviously held far more preference for his family.
With naught more on the subject, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, pondering it that was going to be all, or if she were too engrossed in the past, and now heavily reliant on the factions of the present. Swallowing down the rest of his food, and dusting off any sticky sentiments, he didn’t find any conversation with Sunjata worthy of celebration, but it contained some necessary information, regardless. “I was hunting in the Greatwood, and he happened to be there.” No great circumstance, despite the incoming notions. “We discussed the Refuge, and not sending anyone there for the time being. Apparently he wanted to run some tests on that Dahlia person.”
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
With their shared attention back on the wall, Evie tilts her head to invite Deimos to walk alongside her so they might examine more of it, utilizing her magic to seal holes and cement loose bricks as they go along.
She swings close enough to nip a piece of the roll with her fingertips like a bird before retreating, taking no more than that small morsel as she considers the implications of his words. "You know what they say, third time is often the charm." And, while she hopes that Maea finds peace and meaning this time around, there's too much conflict and old feelings in her heart to wish much more. She simply doesn't know who Maea is anymore. Not enough for anything deeper than paltry sentiments.
The news about Sunjata is surprisingly brief, though it doesn't make her smile any less to know it had been successfully cordial. "I think testing the Refuge is a good idea, if dangerous." Selfishly, she's glad someone else is taking up the mantle instead of Deimos. Sighing dramatically, Evie pops her hands on her hips and stops in their meandering to turn and face Deimos fully. "Alright, so that just leaves Noah. Hit me with it."
Belial intentionally skittered across the top of the wall, the echo of his cloven hooves drowned out by their exchanges, Zuriel following close at hand, and his head tilted vaguely as he followed alongside, only taking another portion of a roll and pretending not to see the way she pilfered. Ensuring the bag remained closed this time, he placed it back in the sled, dragging it behind as they discussed Maea. To which he wrinkled his nose, uncertain about the anecdotes and if they held any deeper meaning – the pale woman had always reminded him of a ghost, no matter which race she inhabited. He had enough phantoms and wraiths contained in his mind to not let her occupy such a space – but she seemed lost and vacant, always searching, grasping, and finding naught tangible.
But the Ancient was not their problem to solve – and so he inclined a nod in the notions of Dahlia and Sunjata. “He did not seem to have a good plan other than luring her in,” to which he grimaced, enough construed warnings between conversations to get a clear picture that machinations still weren’t up the Flood’s alley.
Which left Noah, and their own trials and tribulations to begin again. The heaviest of sighs occupied his chest before they loosened into great puffs of air amidst the surroundings. “Brace yourself,” and from there he retrieved a sheet of parchments out of his pocket, holding them out to her. Within were Danta’s letters, and then Deimos’ copies, ensuring the Evergreen would be able to partake. “Read those first.” Then he plucked at another loose brick nearby, waiting for her reaction.
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
Maea may not be their problem to solve, but only time would tell if Evie stuck to that notion herself, given her problems with trying too hard to fix everything in the past. Especially when it comes to making amends for her own behavior and choices - never giving herself grace for why she’d had to resort to such cloak and dagger actions for her own safety.
As for Sunjata, she hems and haws for a moment, clicking her tongue restlessly. “Sometimes simple and sweet is the best approach,” she admits, recalling complex plans and backups that had never been needed or had only convoluted a situation, “but also - at least it’s not our problem. Not yet.” For surely it would be soon, whether Sunjata prevails or not.
Speaking of problems that are actually theirs…Evie’s frown deepens at the warning to brace herself, taking the papers he hands her. Dantalion’s first letter alone has her sucking in a sharp breath of alarm that has Micah sitting up at last, a big-cat chirrup of concern reaching toward her. Evie doesn’t have the wherewithal to respond, eyes too busy consuming each word with heat growing visibly in her cheeks from frustration and affront alike. Deimos’ responses had been perfect, and Dantalion’s second letter is a relief, but her hands shake by the time she gets to the last one wherein she then has to force herself to fold them neatly along former creases lest she give into the urge to crumple them in her fist.
“What in the world was he thinking?!” She abruptly holds the papers back out to Deimos so one of her hands can smear over her face and into her hair, trying not to lose her temper immediately. “Why are people so allergic to either being honest or keeping their feet out of their mouths?!” Because Noah had clearly chosen the latter, and for what? Surely this wouldn’t make his quest any easier, and it had strained Halo’s relationship with the Grounds to boot - something Evie takes incredibly personally, as evidenced by the heavy flush of her cheeks. Turning fire-bright eyes on Deimos, her lips twitch with the desire to spit her more vitriol, if Micah had not made it to her side to wind around her calves with a soothing rumble. Taking in a deep breath as her hand falls to his head, Evie cracks her neck and closes her eyes a brief moment. “Okay. Did you speak to Noah already?” She needs to know where to start their plan of attack.
Deimos nodded at the other consternations; enough to be appeased for the moment. They would need to wait and hear results on pending circumstances regarding the Refuge, and so the only thing left was Noah’s wild expositions. His gaze left the stones and walls and presided entirely on her as she began to read, watching her facial expressions alter and change under the sway of words, potent layers, and another disastrous round of politics brought on by foolishness. He held another breath as she began to churn, hands taking hold of the papers, and if her companion hadn’t occupied her palm, he would’ve strived – because there were several circumstances in the frustrating cataclysm, and he’d already rendered his moments of confusion, bewilderment, and irritation.
In any other time he might have been raptured by her fire, but in these smoldering infernos, he simply understood it – glance falling to the snow for a moment as he recalled the entire instance. “I cannot speak for him, but I wonder if it comes from the shame of his curse.” Unfortunately, that was up to the Forsaken, and the Forsaken alone, and shouldn’t have been rendered by any regional sovereign. “He did not tell Danta about the Vi situation.” At all; either that he was to be abiding by the deity’s direction, or what had happened in the aftermath. “Seemed to believe that since he was no longer part of the council, none of this mattered.” Which, of course, had been the exact opposite.
Another sigh impacted the course of his chest, and he looked back to the parchments in his grasp. “I spoke to him at length about how he represents Halo, how it did not excuse him from accountability or responsibility, and that we could not harass other leaders into committing certain actions.” His lips pressed into a frown, no amount of humor as his stare went back to hers. “He was not happy with me – we have not spoken since.”
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
this floral patterned imagery makes me feel like hell I know I'm not your type but I adore your vibe
It's rare for Evie to get so swiftly and solidly worked up, but she had taken on the Warden mantle knowing and accepting that these angles of politics were to be hers to command and pursue. To have this happen so suddenly, so unexpectedly...it makes fire writhe in her ribs, and she isn't even sure why but it feels almost beyond her control.
Deimos' familiar tones and Micah's fur beneath her palm are the only grounding portions keeping her in control. Pinching her nose with her free hand, Evie sucks in a sharp breath as Deimos fills her in on his assumptions and knowledge. "Of course it matters. It's not like we advertised he was no longer our advisor, and he's a demigod to boot," she mutters, a hiss of frustration underlining each word. Not that she needs to be telling Deimos that - she's certain he agrees with her, long before he confirms it by sharing what he'd said to Noah.
Dropping her hand away from her face to better display her utter bafflement, Evie takes her hand away from Micah and reaches out to squeeze Deimos' hand. "You did nothing wrong. He can be upset all he wants - he's playing with fire, and he won't even admit to it. We have the least amount of connection with Dantalion and the Grounds, straining those nonexistent ties is -" she gurgles a frustrated noise for lack of better words to fill the space. "We can't be dealing with this with all the rest going on!" Turning, she steps into the Sword's space and thunks her head down on his sternum, needing him close to center her.
While Evie wore her frustration and irritation on her sleeve, Deimos had the icy vigilance and distorted semblance of having time to mull over the behaviors. So he remained the grounding, settled portions, albeit still inherently disappointed in the matter, as the Evergreen unfurled her rightful fumes, and he watched with an arched brow.
Truth be told, Noah should have known better. He’d been in politics for a long time. He’d been wholly capable well before any mess with Vi, and the Sword couldn’t make sense of why all of this seemed to unravel one right after the other – a strange set of event that left him confused and bewildered at the state of the Forsaken’s actions. Where some would’ve bowed their head in shame, or adhered immediately to anything their god asked of them, Noah seemed to be going about it in the strangest, and most debilitating, way imaginable. “I know. Nor did we pull it away from him. The rank was lost when he was chained to the Grounds.” He shrugged, having already admitted the same to the demigod.
Her hand found his, and his fingers wrapped around hers, head tilting to scrutinize, to listen. “I am hoping, given time, he will finally understand why it was ineffectual.” And asinine, but that went unsaid. Instead his concern was beginning to pinpoint on Evie – and he had to wonder if the stress of everything else, including now taking hold of the Academy, was wearing on her. “But I did not know if you wanted to do anything else with him,” besides the lecture, or if it had been enough.
But then her head was on his chest, and his palms rose to meet her cheeks, lifting her upward so he could gaze into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
think about this you have the ability to survive anything
