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 not a full moon, but nevertheless the mermanta walked on two legs through the gates of the Citadel. His crown and the trident he bore, wreathed in starlight, provided passage into the town, though his bare feet and bare chest were not without gossip from those who saw him. He requested directions from the gate guards, and one of them ran ahead to alert the Warden while another walked with him as guide and escort.
And, perhaps, insurance that he was not some illusion off the ice.
He made no comment, only inclining his head in solemn gratitude at the courtesy and striding beside the hard-bitten older woman with the scarred hands and well-worn spear in silence as he looked around curiously at the home of his dearest friend.
With luck his legs would last long enough to see her while he was here, but he would fulfill Safrin's expectations of him first.
The guard led him to the palace, an intimidating construction of ice and stone, and he followed her into its depths until they reached an office that she knocked on briskly. "King Hadama of Torchline to see you, Warden," she called out, before opening the door and ushering Hadama in.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The Torchline King would be fortunate to find the Sword in his office at all; most of the morning had been spent amidst the barracks, fine-tuning a few demonstratives with the rest of his fellow soldiers, before eventually adjourning to the newfound pile of mail and missives on his desk. He’d just opened another before a messenger alerted him of Hadama’s presence, notions of coming to see him, and the notes of confusion began.
His bewilderment was further evident as the Tidebreaker was eventually there, walking through the doors, and for a second his brows furrowed in evident perplexity and puzzlement. There’d been nothing drawn ahead save for the notice minutes before, and naught else had occurred in between hunting parties, or something where a letter wouldn’t suffice. He wasn’t going to comment on the legs, despite how it signaled and summoned its own line of questioning.
But he wouldn’t be rude, and rose from his chair, stepping aside and ensuring there was one close to his desk. “Hadama,” he noted with a nod of decorum, and one to his warrior as well, before she departed. “Did they get the wrong Warden?” Evie would’ve been the much likelier candidate – a presumption of how misunderstandings might have unfolded across the tundra and terrain.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
"Deimos," the Tidebreaker likewise greeted his fellow ruler, inclining his head in respect to one of Halo's staunch leaders. He noted the pile of paperwork that assailed the desk, no less mountainous than the papers that were stacked around merfolk pool in the Court of Stars, before returning his jeweled gaze to the Resurrected Sword. "No. Though please give Evie my regards if I cannot stay." His voice held a quiet warmth for the Evergreen who had befriended a simple jeweler and chef before he had claimed his crown.
But the mermanta's appearance in the Citadel, without warning or prior notice, required an explanation out of both courtesy and necessity, and he drew a slow breath to arrange his words for clarity. "Apologies for not sending word ahead. I came to the Sea of Glass to pray, and Safrin granted me legs to come speak with you immediately after." There had not been time for the more usual channels, when the goddess laid her charge and made her will crystalline. "It is a question of a personal nature. If you are willing to speak of your service to Her?" He paused for permission before asking any further questions.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The arch of his brow prevailed, perhaps in a semi-permanent state, the more the conversation continued. His hand extended towards the chairs, a subtle and silent invitation for the other ruler to sit, while he listened to the explanations given. “Of course,” came first, in regards to Evie, before tilting his head, machinations and calculations already beginning the toil of their reflections as Hadama persisted.
The Sea of Glass to pray, Safrin granting legs…to come speak with him. The Sword hadn’t seen her since she’d returned, wounded and nearly intangible, since warnings were pressed into his and Ronin’s minds and dreams, and while he’d been paying tribute by shrine offerings, he certainly had no intention of bothering her while she healed and mended. Perhaps she was already doing better, given the current circumstances. “I can,” because he held no shame in his loyalty to the goddess. “May I ask why?” From the little he knew about the Tidebreaker, and from previous slumber intricacies, he’d been somewhat part of Safrin’s fold – enough to gather after the war, and Torchline itself remained devoted.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
The invitation to sit was a welcome one, and Hadama settled carefully into a chair so they could both be comfortable while they spoke. He inclined his head gratefully at the Warden's willingness to convey his greetings to the Evergreen, and then he laid out the reason for his unexpected visit. His expression remained solemn and composed but he sat at ease as he waited for the Sword's reply to his unusual request.
The agreement drew an inclination of the Tidebreaker's head in gratitude. The question was not unexpected, and Hadama gave smaller nod to indicate his own willingness to answer, though he sat quietly for a time, collecting his thoughts before he spoke. "She has offered me a choice. To serve her as Ronin does, or as you do. A choice I should not make until I understand both paths." A great honor, and a great responsibility, no matter which current he ended up swimming, and not an answer he had pursued lightly or in great haste.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Patient and forbearing to a fault, Deimos awaited whatever turn of phrase or indication was meant to be conveyed – understanding the nature of the subject to an immense degree. Though his brows rose and eyes widened for a second, half surprised, half suspect, given the little he’d known about Hadama, they returned to neutral shortly thereafter. Maybe the man had been within Safrin’s fold the entire time, and simply hadn’t been amidst the lengths they’d gone to during the war or thereafter. Loyalty had always been at Safrin’s foundations. That she would send the Tidebreaker to both himself and Ronin made sense – a network and pathways of choices that should’ve been given and granted great consideration. “All right,” the Sword noted and nodded, waiting once more for some question to come along.
But when none unfurled, he wondered if he was meant to wax poetical or begin monologuing, neither of which existed much in his inclinations. Instead, he situated himself in the chair, taking another deep breath. “What do you want to know?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
The Warden's patience was appreciated as Hadama answered the question he had been posed. He measured each word carefully, his speech efficient though he spoke with care for honesty and clarity. Deimos's brief flicker of surprise drew a tilt of the Tidebreaker's head in silent acknowledgment of the unexpectedness of the goddess's proposition, and he paused at the end of his explanation to see if his host had further questions about the situation, or Safrin's charge.
The Resurrected Sword did not, and Hadama drew a deep breath as he considered the information he had come to request of a man who had served the goddess for many years. "What did you consider when you made your own choice? And what aspects were most important to your final decision?" To follow one goddess above all others while remaining human and mortal, but still bound tightly to Safrin's service.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The Sword was a calculating man – had to be, given his line of work in the multitudes of lives, seasons, alterations, and crusades. Which meant his considerations, when given a choice to completely devote every segment of his soul to a goddess, had aligned distinctly into what it all meant for him in the end. “I value my autonomy.” First and foremost; because his loyalty had been boundless, but his body, his mind, his heart, his blood, his ichor, was his and his alone – and he’d never had any intentions of giving himself entirely over to anyone (save for those he loved and cherished; and even then, would never expect them to make such demands). “Independence. Control. Presiding over my own decisions.” His head tilted again, trying to gauge Hadama, and where the Mer meandered and wandered into the depths. “I remain devoted to her, but she has never forced me into a decision I may regret.”
And if he’d talked to Ronin, or even Sunjata, maybe the Tidebreaker already understood the insinuations between those layers.
Instead, Deimos had explored libraries and built shrines. He’d helped take down governments and apply them into Old God nuances. He’d gone to war. He’d listened to her warnings and spread them far and wide. There was no rue or remorse embedded there.
Leaning back into his chair again, another breath unfurled, pondering over what the other man could possibly place merit and weights within – where the convictions toiled and ended. “And I do not desire power.” Had it on his own in spades – didn’t require the cosmic balance circumventing through his veins. Nor did he need to be the most important or most commanding; he’d earned any and all reputation based on his actions. From there though, his eyes went back to the man, speculative and thorough. “I think you need to consider why you would want to become a demigod, and any repercussions that may come with that.” And were they for the right reasons? “Would you lose your Mer status, for instance?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Hadama listened, patient as the sea for the answers that were soon forthcoming. What the Sword held important was as illuminating to the price of demigodhood as Ronin's answers had been, and in some ways even clearer. A flicker of understanding creased the corners of the Tidebreaker's eyes as he tilted his head slightly to the side, considering the difference between what Ronin had been called to do, and what Deimos retained the ability to deny the one they were both loyal to, even if the Sword had never needed to do so.
That the option was there was the important thing.
He remained still as Deimos leaned back, only straightening his head once more as the other man continued. The suggestion that followed and the question that was asked before the Sword lapsed into silence drew a slow nod from Hadama, appreciative of the younger man's wisdom. "There are questions I still have," he agreed slowly. "And that is one of them." There had not been a merfolk demigod in current memory or recent generations, and the waters were dark and uncharted in that regard. But he had spent the entirety of Safrin's absence considering her offer, and the consequences he had subsequently learned from several of the current demigods. No, it was not without strings or price, that power. Or danger, for that matter.
He shook himself from his ruminations, focusing his eyes upon Deimos's gaze once more. "Thank you. You have given me much to consider." A different perspective that he had, indeed, been lacking. A valuable one. "May I ask why you chose Safrin for your allegience?" Of all the gods on Caido, how had she earned the Sword's loyalty?
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Deimos half-wondered if he should be answering correspondence through the long pauses, but when the considerations finally came into play through the murky silence, he listened. Hadama didn’t offer much in return, save for inquiries, of which the Sword would likely have hordes and multitudes as well, in the Mer’s position. But with nothing else forthcoming, it didn’t feel like a two-way street – so he was forced to inquire entirely on his own, prying platitudes out of walls. “What others do you have?” Was Hadama aware of the game, of the layers, he was playing within? Of how Safrin's power could truly surmise, and damage, within the same platitudes? Had he listened to Ronin - through every triumph and woe?
His other question had been something practiced and perfected years and years ago – for anyone and everyone who’d ever asked. “She was the first to listen to me. To give me a chance.” A monumental moment for a man who’d rarely bowed his head towards any deities in prior lands, and simultaneously been ignored in his meager attempts – only for the sake of his brethren – due to his blood. But he’d never sought out alterations away for the magic flowing through his veins – only additions. “Why did you?” Had it been mustered coincidences or followed policies, given Torchline’s sanctity? Fortune? Luck?
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
It was a more personal question than the Tidebreaker had expected from the Warden, but given that his own inquiries were of a similar nature it was a valid one. Hadama inclined his head in acknowledgment of it, listing his concerns with care. "Whether she might ask me to set aside leadership of the Mer," he said quietly. "If I become a demigod." That he might be called to leave his people and go to war regardless of which choice he made, he already knew. Even Deimos had been forced to leave Halo at her bidding for the assault on the Draig. Torchline's co-leadership he might hold with her blessing, but what of the Mer if, as Deimos pointed out, he was changed beyond recognition? "Whether I will be allowed to keep the magic I have trained. The shifts I have discovered." Pieces of his soul and part of who he was. A sacrifice akin to removing a fin or an arm, if not moreso. "And if there will be issues with alliances I build with leaders who are not her followers." Sunjata of King's End was the most obvious, but would it affect relations with Danta as well?
Deimos answered his question in turn, and Hadama nodded in understanding of the connection. Outlander and, at one point, Abandoned, as the tales would have it. A difficult set of barriers to overcome to get an answer from the gods of Caido. In return he finally shifted, his fingers finding the starry ring upon his other hand and brushing it lightly in memory. "At first, family loyalty. Safrin has been our patron for generations." Though she had been locked behind the Barrier for centuries, her legend had inspired his ancestors, his parents, and eventually himself, even when she had been absent. "After she returned, I followed her out of gratitude for what she did for my people. For the canals and the monsoon shield that protects the reef," he added in explanation after a brief pause. Though mortal prayers had shaped those gifts, Safrin had still chosen to empower and bless them, expanding them beyond what those mortal hands could have accomplished on their own. "And then, because she answered my prayer. A small one, but she treated it with kindness and respect." When he had fully expected to be ignored; that the seeking of her blessing for his endeavor would yield the silence had had known before the Barrier fell.
He lapsed back into courteous silence, both to listen to what the Warden might have to say in response to his answers, and to consider if there were further questions to ask while he had the opportunity.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
If he was to be questioned on distinctive sentiments by a relative stranger, Deimos would offer them in turn. But Hadama’s line of questioning was full of machinations where the Sword could hazard a guess – and doubted the Tidebreaker would enjoy the results. “From what I have seen,” which were pinnacles of Ronin’s resurrection, and the ties, the binds, of Vi to Amalia and Noah, “You will most likely lose your magic and shifts – and gain those under her prowess.” It would take more time, more effort; and may not coincide with plans that the Mer once had. To even be called a Mer any longer could hazard a stretch, and whether or not he’d be able to connect any longer to the people he claimed as his own. If these advantages of Safrin’s touch and foundation were enough to override everything else he’d yearned and craved…or if this was an opportunity, a new venture.
The Sword had no issue in Safrin’s loyalties and values in alliances either – Caido, for now, avoided war with one another and seemed to be circling the matter of the moon island at hand. He and the starry goddess shared their pettiness and abhorrence for Sunjata readily and easily. Whether Hadama would relay and rally those same sentiments caused his brow to arch once more. “You will have her love, but also her hatred – and she would not take kindly to associations with those she despises.” He had to wonder too, in the back of his mind, how Ronin would react to all of this.
Family loyalty, gratitude, kindness, and respect seemed to hold all the qualities Hadama needed from Safrin herself; no massive stretch of needs or wants or necessities, and the Warden nodded, perplexed but accepting. “So how would becoming a demigod benefit you, or your plans?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Deimos knew more of the previous demigods than Hadama did. The Sword had met them, known them before and during and after their transition from simply mortal to something else, and his willingness to relay that experience drew a solemn nod from the Tidebreaker. They were questions he would have to address to the goddess herself to know the truth, but the Warden's words at least gave fair warning and time for him to think over what he was willing to sacrifice for Safrin's blessings.
Being forced into someone else's feuds, for example, certainly did not appeal to the quiet mermanta.
"Hmm. That would be... difficult to accept," he agreed, rubbing a thoughtful finger over the pattern of embroidered stars upon the leather trousers he currently wore.
The question that followed his explanation of how Safrin had earned his own loyalty was, surprisingly, the first time anyone had asked it of him in such a straightforward way. It was refreshing to have it put so simply, and Hadama inclined his head gratefully at Deimos's interest before meeting his eyes with a calm intensity. "For myself, it is the power to protect my people. My loved ones." A breath, and with it, memories. "Time and again, my own strength has not been enough. I am... limited. In my magic. My shifts." As Deimos was not, now. Human, and with that humanity, possessed of options no Mer had ever known. "It was enough, in my father's time. When we held ourselves apart, and nothing threatened us. But the false moon now poisons our waters. Its creatures threaten the reefs as well as the shore." His expression cracked at last, a faint furrow of a frown marring the serene line of his mouth. "If I am allowed to keep what I have. What I am. And build Safrin's strength and potential upon it, it may be enough to tilt the balance. But if the price is to be stripped down to my bones. To build fresh from starlight alone... There may not be time to regain what was lost in the forging before it is needed again."
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Deimos had once been limited too – had reached out, had met parallels, and then set boundaries. He had confidence in his own measures, in his own power, and it had all taken time. Time to grow. Time to understand. Time for mistakes. Time to mend and heal. Time to prosper. Time to dig in and train, grind mettle to mettle, determination and steadfastness holding true to every vow and conviction he’d made across Caido and beyond. So to a man like himself, who had always strived to try, try, try, the essence of giving in to a dangling piece of prowess didn’t coincide with the way he’d lived.
And even the statement made drew a slight tilt of his head from the papers he’d been scouring amidst the silence. “Did you believe you would be free of conflicts?” The strongest followers and demigods of the Old Gods, and New Gods alike, had gone to war - surely the Mer had participated in defending his home within the interim? Did he think that Safrin would grant him blessings and gifts and that would be all? The Sword had known no deity, no matter the world, to be so benevolent and gracious (save for the Earth God; long since gone) – not when there were other notions to be had. And while Deimos had longed to defend Halo, he’d also gone to the Draig without complaint, accepted the rites of brutality, the broken and barbed forces coming for them. Folding out another portion of parchment, he indulged in one more long breath, withholding it for a sigh, but something to restrain the confusion and bewilderment.
Instead, he opted for an armor-piercing inquiry. “And what if you cannot protect them?” If Hadama was separated from those he cared for? If he was forced to go elsewhere? If could no longer claim the Mer as his own, or even Torchline? Then would it have been for naught – this great potential and capacity? “What stops you now, from gaining in your current state?” Was his race so constrained? The Warden would be the first to admit his knowledge of the Mer wasn’t substantial – merely by experience in meeting some.
But he'd never heard of anyone under Safrin’s or Vi’s demigod distinction to be permitted their own shifts. They’d be recreated, in her likeness and awe, and even then, amidst an arduous process of growth all over again. “That may be something you need to ask her then, before you make any decision.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
