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 dark by the time she emerged from the shrine. Sometimes she liked simply being there, wrapped in the darkness. With nothing to bother her and no one to ask questions, she could think thoughts that had no place in the light. Things she could never speak of to anyone, for they made even her queasy and shivering with cold dread - fearful of the depths she found within herself.
She emerged from the cold water like a ghost, shivering and nearly blue in the skin from being exposed to the low temperatures for so long. Moving stiffly, with nothing but a shift to conceal her thin, delicate seeming body she dragged herself up onto the rocky shore. Her sharp teeth clattered as she struggled to make a fire of the driftwood she had piled up before going into the cave, knowing fully well that she would need it.
But though she fumbled with the flint and steel, her hands were growing too numb to do it properly. A spark was all she needed, yet even that was growing increasingly difficult, as dangerous stiffness whispered echoes of stone through her joints. And wouldn't that be wonderful; becoming a statue all over again, not even from Halo's deadly cold but out of foolish overconfidence a stone's throw away from home.
She wondered sluggishly if Danta would care to save her again, if it came to that. She wasn't sure how much stock he put on intelligence in his subjects.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
He doesn’t intend to stumble across Maea when he does – simply just trying to gain an idea of the parameters and general area of the Grounds that he’s now calling his home. It helps when it comes to knowing which places harbor the most avians (aka, places he should likely avoid), and what places he could get away with tending to his more darker needs.
It’s beneficial that he does find her when he does, though, the fyrhund approaching carefully, glimmering the heat from the cracks in his plate, the smoke that wafts from his snout as he approaches the pile of driftwood, breathing fire onto it before he withdraws and shifts back into himself – trying to prove he’s not a stranger, and when he isn’t spooked by the shift she harbors, that he’s quite a gentleman.
He's wearing that thick dark red coat, one he slips off of himself to leave him in a very well maintained black and gold trimmed, well-fitting shirt. “Let me help. Maea, wasn’t it? We can’t have you turn to stone.” He hums, draping the jacket around her, warm and searing hot from the travel here, before he settles back as the fire starts to dance orange flames across his exposed skin, skin that shows more and more as he starts to roll up his sleeves – far enough to see the edges of deep gouging scars along his forearms.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
While she didn't relish being seen in this state, it could not be denied that she really was in need of help. At first the massive creature that approached, gleaming of fire and stone in the darkness, caused her some distress, used to fending for herself in the Wilds as she was. Fright turned quickly to mortification when it shifted into a man and she recognized Danta's shadow from their previous encounters.
"Th-thank you," she managed to get out, even as she reached her trembling hands into the flames as they flared up towards the clear skies. "S-sorry for the t-trouble..."
Her own clothes lay neatly tucked away on a rock on the other side of the fire. But the coat Asta draped about her shoulders was warm, and she was shivering too badly to move just yet. Was it too much to crawl into the pyre itself? Alas, probably. She was too self-conscious to strip down more than this, even in the name of warmth.
"What are you.. doing out here?" It wasn't meant in a bad way, though it probably sounded a bit brusque because of the spasms her muscles were going through. She just hadn't expected to run into anyone. Not at this time of the day.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
He doesn’t yet have his fire magic back yet to surround her with, so he hopes the wool warmth of the suit jacket might suffice as the fire rages a bit and Astaroth focuses on getting the fire to grow, poking and prodding within it with his bare hands to try and fan some oxygen into it. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.” He murmurs, meaning every word of it, distracted as he adds a few more pieces of driftwood onto the fire and seems a bit content with how it’s starting to burn.
His dark gaze shifts back toward her and he tilts his head a little, offering a small toothy smile. “Getting an understanding of the land, truthfully. I haven’t explored much of it since my arrival.” He can already tell that she’s beginning to warm up, and he takes a moment to stick his hand back into the flame to get it nice and hot before he offers it out for Maea’s chilled fingertips. “It was much different when I had fallen into my gargoylesque slumber.” A casual shrug is offered as he settles, sitting beside her as she wears his coat and warms up before the flame.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
Her pale eyes gleamed in the light of the bonfire, watching the man with some wariness as he stoked the flames. He was... different, from most people she knew. From the way he spoke to the choice of dress, he seemed plucked from a very different life than what she was accustomed to. Had anyone called her 'dear' before? She didn't think so, and wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. It felt a little too familiar, too soon.
Same thing with the hand he held out, no doubt toasty and warm after being licked by flame. There was something hard and cold and mistrustful in her expression as she searched his face for ulterior motives. While she found none, it was only necessity that made her place her hands upon his.
Undoubtedly she was being silly. But being touched by people she didn't know... even by those she did - it had become so very difficult.
"I see," she murmured, letting her gaze drop to her feet. Shifting subtly so that she could warm her bare feet on the stones around the fire, it took all she had to focus on something other than her hands and what was going on with them. "I tried asking Danta about what things were like before... but he didn't say much." In his defense, he had been shot with an arrow some time earlier. But it didn't make her curiosity any less - especially as she hunted for distractions. "You're one of the old ones, then?"
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
There is one thing Astaroth has learned in his long life, and that’s patience. Whatever it was that he was faced with, likely wasn’t going to be successfully solved in a day, so he’d learned quickly how to adapt with it. And that meant waiting, often times. So he holds his hand out for however long it takes before she takes it, and when she does he’s still as can be – as if he’s some warming rock stuck under a blanket to keep one’s feet warm.
A low hum leaves him and a smile toys at his lips as he nods. “He won’t.” Asta says bluntly with a small wistful sigh. Danta had… Quite possibly the roughest upbringing in the Climb out of all of them. And Asta had almost died to get in. But at her follow up question, he inclines his head to her and flashes an easier smile – still sharp toothed (he’s got fangs for days, after all), and nods his horned head. “I am. I was around when the Climb was truly a chaotic, wonderful thing to behold.” A small casual shrug leaves him, not too sharp that he jostles her hands in his, of course.
“It has been many centuries since then, as darling Danta has informed me.” Right about the time the two enemies had worked on kicking each other's asses, before realizations and misunderstandings had come to light. Asta turns his attention back toward the fire as he reaches out with his other hand to poke and prod at the flame again, rising it higher with sparks and licking flames. “By the way, I apologize for how I reacted the other day with your shift. I am trying to do better about it.” Especially with how many stupid crows live in this godforsaken land.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
That he didn't try to grab or hold her did help. She didn't exactly relax, but there was a gradual easing of her shoulders as time went by. Certainly being distracted by the conversation helped too, as did the warmth that settled the tremors of her limbs and reduced her chill to a general discomfort stemming largely from the soaked shift and her damp hair.
"Oh. Why not?" Sensing the potential of a story, Maea reclaimed her hands to comb through the long hair, absently braiding it over a shoulder to keep it from her face, even as her mind wandered.
"Did you have cities, or was it all wilderness back then too?" she wanted to know. "I've not been to the Climb much, it's a bit far from... well, everything."
Touching the fire with a breath of magic sent sparks flying high into the sky, snapping and crackling. While she could easily reduce the fuel to ashes, she only stole a handful and guided it in beneath the tent of the coat, careful not to singe the fabric, so that her clothes would dry out better.
"It's okay," she replied to his apology, offering a faint smile - merely a ghost of the bright ones she had leveled at him before, but honest none the less. "If it helps, I promise I won't use it without asking first. Did something happen to make you dislike birds, or is it just... like spiders for most people?" Phobia, she supposed the right word was. Irrational fear without a clear cause.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
“Alas, it is not my story to tell.” He pauses, knowing that it isn’t the answer she wishes to hear. “But between us, Danta had many more challenges to face there.” Not because of the Climb itself, but the people that had lived in the confines of the Climb, that had the power and motivation to fuck them all over any time they wished to. He supposes it’s no different than the lands these days, should they wish to take a harder position.
But it does scream a lot of sense into why the Maverick is so flexible and hands off with much of what goes on. Which is a good segue into the next question she offers. “I wouldn’t call it a city perse, but it had its organizations. We had duties to fulfill and jobs to do, those we reported to. It was a ruled region, back then.” He tries to find the terms people use these days to make it more relatable for the pale woman, now starting to warm up.
He thinks he succeeds.
So much so that when she asks about what his deal with the feathered beasts are, he flashes her a small smile of his own. “Mm, well,” this he can settle in for a story time for, because it had happened so long ago and he had learned so much since then. “Before I became an Ancient, I was attacked and feasted on for days by the gore crows in the Climb.” He gestures to one of the scars that can barely be seen on his forearm, how deep the talon marks go. “Luckily, I was found by other Ancients and they brought me to Dygra. However, seeing those particular avians when I cannot prepare myself, tend to send my stomach into knots so I try to avoid it if at all possible.” There’s an air of dramatics there, trying to play it off as being not as terrible as it truly was.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
Questions burned on her tongue, but Maea was too polite to keep digging when Asta clearly did not intend to explain. The tidbit only made her wonder more - curious by nature and by profession, admittedly - because if Danta wouldn't tell, and Asta wouldn't tell, then the chances of her ever knowing was rapidly dwindling.
She would have to settle for the glimpse into old Ancient society instead, and nodded that she was listening as he painted a general picture for her benefit. "Fascinating," she murmured, itching to write it down. "We don't know anything about your time. Even Dygra had been forgotten, until the Voice woke her. So much that's been lost... It must be strange, to see the world so different, right? I was petrified for only a few years after the war, and I'm reeling from all the changes."
It was quite generous of him to be so forthcoming with his story. The brutality of the ordeal he had lived through drained what little color there was in Maea's face, and she put a hand over her mouth against the sour burn at the back of her throat.
"That's horrible," she croaked - immediately mortified of her cheerful onslaught when he must have been fighting actual terror. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine..." The pain. The awful dread. A shudder ran through her and she hunched her shoulders nearly to the ears in belated empathy.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
“It certainly took getting used to.” Asta murmurs, but his smile shifts a bit more playful as he watches the fire for a few moments. “I will say that it wasn’t quite as civilized Caido appears now. Thankfully, the clothes have gotten much better and far more comfortable.” He nods his head toward the coat that’s still draped (and looking as though its swallowing her, given how it’s tailored for himself who’s quite a tall man) around Maea’s shoulders.
He doesn’t expect his story to cause such a visceral reaction from her, though, so his smile is gentle as he leans toward her – not touching her, but keeping some amount of space between them and appearing as though he’s inviting her to join in on a secret. “I’m fine now, truly, my dear. I was rescued and reborn. Turned into a hunter and security for the Climb back then. I enjoyed my work, even if it was relatively solitary. I had the opportunity to explore and learn manners, which weren’t something my... tribe had while I was growing up.” Which had also directly lead him to being stuck in the Climb as crow food. (Though he imagines it sounds strange for someone so eloquent as himself to say he comes from a tribe of all things.)
He sighs wistfully again before he leans back on his forearms a little and watches the fire, content to bask in its warmth and its glow. “And now I simply thrive on being a thorn in Danta’s side.” And halfway thriving toward his attempts to devour the Maverick. But that’s neither here nor there. One day he may succeed. Or one day Danta might successfully get a muzzle on him. Whichever came first.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
His humor thawed her out another few degrees, earning him a soft laugh from the pale girl. "It's different from when I grew up too," she replied, offering a little something of herself in return - she was starting to feel bad about prying so many details out of him without saying anything herself. "This region was very different then. The gods placed a barrier around it to keep the Voice contained, and everything suffered for it. The land, the animals, the people... There wouldn't be anyone left by now if things had remained as they were." Fashionable clothes had been a luxury item afforded by almost no one. Reduced to sucking the figurative marrow out of the earth simply to survive, Maea had grown up knowing nothing of the kind of 'civilization' other regions could offer today. They didn't even have proper leaders for centuries.
Pulling the borrowed coat around herself, she made an attempt to stand and found that her legs had thawed enough to hold her weight. Padding around the fire to pull her dress on, she sighed with no small amount of relief when the fine black wool of the garment further separated her from the chill of the air.
"Thank you for letting me borrow this," she said, offering the coat back to Asta. She had one of her own, after all; not quite as elaborate as his, but finely made none the less. A recent purchase; she was trying to look the part of the ambassador she was supposed to be.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
As Maea starts to reveal some information of her own upbringing, Asta pays attention in entirety. Nodding and wincing at the mention of the barrier – something he thankfully never had to experience. “That sounds terrible.” He starts to say, his voice humming softly. “I’m sorry that you had to suffer.” Asta takes a moment to let his dark gaze slip back to the fire, mulling over his thoughts. “At least now you can venture out into the great beyond?” He had gotten that experience as well, coming from a relatively sheltered space.
But either way, his attention flits back toward her as she rises, but gives her privacy to slip the dress on until she returns his warm red coat back to him. “You’re very welcome, my dear.” He doesn’t put the coat back on yet, instead he simply absorbs the heat of the fire in the hopes that it’ll make the coat that much more warm when he does slip it back on. “Are you intending to stay out here much longer or do you have other pressing matters to attend to?” He asks, tilting his head back toward her with a softer smile.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
Glancing over a shoulder while still shrugging on the garments, she nodded slowly. "Yes. For a while longer, at least. But we're building a new barrier, aren't we. Even if it's meant to protect us, I don't know... It still gives me the feeling of iron bars coming down around me."
Which was a confession far more truthful than she had intended to share. Ducking her head after handing back the coat Maea slumped back down on the ground. "No, nothing pressing. I just came here to think. Pray, too... not that I know Dygra very well."
Unlike Danta and Asta, her time as ancient was very short indeed. Even ignoring the centuries they had spent oblivious to the passing of centuries, they seemed very comfortable in their own skin in a way that enhanced the feeling of being returned to when it all began. That her face and body had remained unchanged due to the Ascended's lack of ageing only made it more pronounced.
"Was it difficult for you, to change?"
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
Confusion immediately flares in the older Ancient’s face, tilting his head as he tries to probe the comment that she’d shared – unsure if it was one she even wanted to divulge into. “Whatever do you mean?” He asks – unsure if she means the void barrier. At least, from his understanding, they’d be able to come and go as they pleased, keeping the treacherous beasts out.
Which is good. He’s walked by Danta’s office enough times to know that despicable feeling all too well.
A hum is met with what her plans had been and Asta settles in a bit more comfortably, knowing that perhaps they’d get a chance to talk a bit more. Even though he doesn’t expect it to take such a turn as that. And with the civility of the new and revitalized Caido, he knows his answer is one that she likely wouldn’t be able to fully understand. “It was easy for me.” He admits, squinting through the light of the fire with his dark eyes to determine whether or not she’d be okay with a bit more of his harsh truths.
Unable to read much from her, he starts small. “But as a man beforehand, I had… Darker tendencies. My preferences are far more acceptable as an Ancient than anything else. At least back then.” He’d promised to not get sloppy with it. He’d be smart, and he was being smart about it now.
"Has it been difficult for you?"
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
