From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
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!
05-08-2024, 08:12 AM (This post was last modified: 05-09-2024, 12:42 AM by Mallory.)
Mallory
~ ~
"I'm fading, fading away... If this is truly the essence of the world, then perhaps I should embrace the darkness and disappear into its gravities.”
She is awakened by the gentle kiss of the sun’s first light. Its golden touch is a most welcome relief. The woman lies atop a weathered plank, once part of a vessel now adrift like most of her remembrances. But then her memories flood back, a reverie as potent as the lingering haze after a festive night. Cradling herself, she acknowledges that no one else would offer such comfort, nor would she permit them to. At that moment, she hopes fervently for forgetfulness.
The wind, a gentle lover, caresses her tender skin, whispering solace as if seeking to embrace her in its ephemeral arms. Lifting her head to the horizon, she notices a figure in the distance. Should she cry for help?
"No, I would rather drown,"she corrected herself, startled a bit by the birds flying above. A harmless wave hits the edge splashing onto her coarse garments. It was held together by vines and carved pieces of stone. Most would think her a savage! at first glance. Now soaked; she finally decides to do something about her situation.
Squeezing her eyes clean she then tries to stand. The plank begins to shift, and her balance is tested. She fell a couple of times before finally standing on her own two feet. Desperately, she waved her arms to the figure in the distance, all the while loudly crying for aid.
Thal gathers her cloak tighter around her, grumbling at the offensive chill buffeting around her. The ocean is her favorite place, but its breeze snatches her breath like a jealous lover, causing her to glare in annoyance. If it weren't for the necessary supplies provided by the Castaway Exchange, she wouldn't even be here. She'd be on a beach. In the sun. Warm.
Vocalizing a resigned sigh, she proceeds down the walkway, hopping between the connected ship decks with a practiced nimbleness. Her crew is busy restocking their stores while she takes the time to explore the area. That is one of the many benefits of being the Captain. A smile plays on her lips at the thought as she enjoys the assortment of available shops and wares. The sellers shout loudly at her, demanding that she just stop and "Take a look," but Thal's not that naive. She sees the greed in their eyes and the creeping figures roaming the peripherals, waiting for opportunity to present itself. Instead, her feet take her to the edge of the ships where few people wander.
Although the exposed area leaves her vulnerable to the salted Deepfrost winds, her heart feels settled by the rocking waves before her. Only interrupted by a single figure floating nearby. What are they doing? Thal squints at the flapping arms and shaky balance atop a piece of debris. Their inadequate attire has her laughing. Are they trying to freeze to death? She shakes her head and prepares to leave before the desperate cries for help filter across the water. It isn't her business how or why this person is stranded out on the water. It's probably a result of multiple poor decisions, making it much deserved, but she still finds herself borrowing a nearby dingy. She rows out to the person with a string of mumbled complaints and profanities at the cold. After all, what else did she have to do with her time but see how deep the ice could settle in her bones?
When she reaches the woman, Thal pauses just out of reach, setting aside the oars to give a long, unsympathetic stare. "Give me one good reason not to leave you out here." Whether she's looking for bribery or just something mildly interesting to liven her morning, she's not sure, but she keeps her cold blue eyes fixed on the wobbling woman nonetheless.
Her smile faltered at the query, a flicker of ember threatening to engulf. "If you're going to leave me out here, then do it!" She regretted her words as soon as they escaped her quivering lips. Sad, sharp eyes followed the sailor’s every move with a silent plea. "But know this—it says far more about you than it ever will of me." Crossing her arms, cold fingers trace a path along her chilled skin frantically trying to warm herself up.
She exhales, and her breath dances into the frosty air. It took only a single lone wave, before regrettably, being forced to drop on all fours. The wooden vessel yielded slightly beneath her weight, before rising once more to dance upon the waters. Her teeth chatter in response to the cold. She squeezes her drenched hair, then pulls it over her shoulders, a stinging whip against her back.
"Please,"she whispered, her voice quavering on the verge of tears. She clenches her fist, trying to hold it all back, in a desperate attempt to maintain her composure. If only she had the means to save herself, she'd brave the waters on her own. But alas, the only practical thing to do is to beg. And thus, she did, her brow humbly bowed to touch the waterlogged wood.
“I will...”she began stopping herself. How could she offer herself that way, she pondered. She is already owed to another. But she has nothing else of value she reasoned, an increasingly difficult thing to do as her thoughts were numbed by the biting cold.“I will pay in service,”she offered, hoping the repercussions be less dire than succumbing to the cold or the sea's wrath.
Thal watches in mild curiosity at the woman's outburst. For someone who was desperately crying for help seconds before, she is quite prideful, but there is something to be admired about her spirit. Even as she throws the barbed insult, it makes more of a noose for herself than a blow against Thal. A mirthless chuckle escapes as she simply responds with, "That ship sailed long ago, sweetheart." Her voice is flat and hides a turmoil of emotions that she has no desire to relive.
The shaking and tumbling of the shivering woman elicits an urge to laugh. She obviously doesn't have her sea legs and Thal almost pities her as the woman falls to her knees, begging and bargaining. This is quickly becoming boring. It's no fun when they cave so easily. On the other hand, Thal doesn't think this woman will last long standing on her precarious driftwood. She doesn't have many other options presenting themselves. Except, perhaps, death.
With an exasperated sigh, she brings the boat alongside the castaway's staggering form, gesturing with a flippant hand for her to step aboard. "We'll discuss your 'payment' later. For now, let's get you warm." It isn't a compassionate proposal, but a concern for her possible new investment as she sees the hypothermia beginning to set in, characterized by her blue-tinged lips and chattering teeth. Thal reaches out her hand to "help" by roughly pulling her into the dingy, kindly keeping her from taking a plunge in the unforgiving ocean. "The name's Captain Thalassa Sanguis, but you can just call me Captain." Her fanged grin flashes in an unsettling smile as she starts rowing them back to the marketplace.
There is little to nothing she despised more than to be the victim. She learned to take care of herself, circumstances demanded her too. Yet, she contradicted herself, enjoying the precious gift of being tended to, a rarity cherished in the quiet depths of her soul. -You did what you needed to survive; she kept repeating to herself mentally. Although it provided little to no comfort.
Feeling at ease, the weight of myriad sorrows descends upon her. Her eyes begin to close, her body is ready to take a nap. As her gaze drifts downward, a tender surrender beckons, and her weary form yields to the embrace of a profound sleep.
And then… a nightmare unfolds.
Restless are the souls who've bear the weight of anguish past the brink of their limit. After a few moments, she tosses and turns, ensnared in the clutches of a haunting memory. Her brow furrows, betraying the chaos within, as shadows dance across her peaceful visage. And so, she falls into darkness… but in darkness, she finds a voice, is it hers?
"I'm fading... fading away,” the voice whispers in a calming tone.
“If this is truly the essence of the world, then perhaps I should embrace the darkness and disappear into its gravities. Perhaps doing so will allow me to rediscover the radiance within, and emerge anew from its depths.”
“Mother?” she asked with uncertainty.
But she awakens before finding out. The memories of it all slipped away like morning mist, leaving her mind a blank canvas.
Her cocky, domineering attitude falls short when the woman passes out in front of her. Maybe it's exhaustion from the hailing of aid. Or maybe Thal was too late to save her from nature's grasp. Or maybe this is a dream and she's being pranked. Glancing around for good measure, she confirms that there is no one else around and that they are still - quite literally - in the middle of the water. A concerned expression comes over her face now that the woman is unconscious and she extends her hand in preparation to jostle her awake, but before her fingers come in contact, she sees the indicative furrowing of her brows. Unbelievable. Not only has she fallen asleep, but she's dreaming. It amazes her how some people can just sleep anywhere.
Thal is about to make a snide comment and shove the woman overboard when her eyes begin to open again. With a sickly-sweet smile, she asks, "Did you sleep well, Your Highness?" Batting her eyelashes in cold mocking, she continues, "If it would please you, we will be arriving to the marketplace in but a moment, however, please don't worry a hair on your little head. I live only to serve." Her last words are emphasized by the crashing of the dingy against the outer border of a ship's deck, closing the curtains on her little show. The edges of her eyes sharpen to daggers and her lips transform into a vicious sneer. Even the tone of her voice darkens to a dangerous level. "Don't mistaken my actions for kindness. Either do as I say or get out of my way."
She stands to leap onto the more solid footing of the large ship, leaving the woman to exit herself this time. If she falls in, Thal will just chalk it up to natural selection. She did what she could for the hopeless case. It will go down as her good deed of the year and no one will blame her for it. If not, she calls over her shoulder, "Clothes are this way. Unless you are trying to meet the gods early." Her steps are light and quick as she makes her way to the shops, waiting to hear signs of following footsteps.
Still groggy from her sudden awakening, blinks a few times as she tries to process the Captain's words. Feeling a mixture of confusion and irritation at the sarcastic tone, she pushes herself up slowly, her muscles protesting from the cold and the strain of her recent ordeal.
With a steely resolve, she meets Thalassa's gaze, her expression a blend of defiance and weariness. "Oh, my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience of my nap," Mallory retorts with a sardonic grin. “I mean what kind of person sleeps after spending days lost at sea on a makeshift raft…” she scowled at her savior.
Startled by the abrupt collision, Mallory's senses are overwhelmed by the sound of wood against wood, the jarring impact vibrating through her bones. A shiver courses down her spine as she grips the edge of the dingy, the salty spray of the sea kissing her cheeks.
And then 'a warning, lovely!' She thinks exasperated.
“Look! I'm used to looking after myself, and I'll manage just fine without your so-called 'kindness,'" Mallory says, her voice firm despite its hoarseness. “But if you insist on playing the hero, then lead the way to those clothes. I do-NOT! intend to freeze to death.” She said looking around before leaping safely to the other side.
Not feeling particularly interested in the woman's excuses, Thal flicks her wrist in annoyance. Her thoughts just filter back to the fact that this woman might just deserve the situation she had found herself in. The little goodwill that had resided in her had already been spend rowing out to that teetering piece of driftwood. All that remains is bitter sarcasm and salty ocean waters.
The castaway's shouted words barely reach Thal as she swiftly approaches the shops. She doesn't even stop as she calls over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Princess." Although, it's good to hear that she doesn't currently have a death wish, Thal is already developing whiplash from her bipolar decisions. Is she a "strong independent woman who doesn't need help"? Or does she want to put on more layers than what the natural boutique of King's End had offered her?
She doesn't really care at this point and proceeds to duck into a nearby clothing stall. The colorful threads scream loudly at her eyes, making her nauseous with irritation. Her preferred palette is: black. That's it. Maybe some silver, but whether it's black leather or black silk or black fur, she only ever picks black. So seeing the myriads of options from the spectrum is like walking into a perfume shop when you usually frequent a dirt cave with stale air. Her headache is powerful and immediate.
To speed along their visit, she prowls up to the saleswoman, not pausing to inspect the wares. Instead, she indicates to the obvious reason for their visit and says in a commanding voice, "Find me something cheap that will keep this girl from freezing." Thal turns away without watching to see if her orders are followed, they always are and she stands with the confidence of someone who knows that. Now addressing her new stray, she speaks with a clipped tone. "Who are you and why were you lost at sea?"
She contemplates her rescuer's inquiries in the quiet chamber of her thoughts, yet finds herself adrift amidst the uncertain tides of memory, unsure if the whispers of recollection truly unveil the full truth. “I’m… Mallory, it’s the name,” she replies to the easiest question first, although hesitantly. “I…” Before she could utter another word, she was handed new clothes, “Thank you!” she said with a warm smile. With a quick spin, she sheds her garments without a hint of inhibition, unveiling a form that speaks of beauty, and strength. She is adorned with scars of all shapes and sizes, traits that only the bravest warriors bear proudly.
First, she selects a white linen shirt, its loose-fitting form hanging delicately from a hanger. With gentle hands, she slips her arms into the billowy sleeves. The fabric drapes elegantly around her torso, its airy texture a welcome squeeze against her skin. “I was stranded after my ship sank in a storm,” or so she thinks.
Mallory reaches for a pair of rugged leather trousers, their weathered surface bearing the scars of past adventures. She steps into them one leg at a time, the supple material molding to her form with each movement. “I appreciate your help with the clothes,” she said genuinely before fastening the button and zip, securing the trousers in place around her waist. Turning her attention to her accessories, she reaches for a green sash, its vibrant hue a striking contrast against the neutral tones of her outfit. With a deft motion, she drapes it diagonally across her body, securing it at her waist with a firm knot. "You went out of your way, not many would do that," she adds, her gratitude evident in her tone.
She then cinches her attire together with a wide leather belt, looping it around her waist with practiced ease. Lastly, she pulls on a pair of knee-high boots, their sturdy leather construction offering both protection and style. With a flick of her hair, she turns to face her rescuer, her expression a mixture of curiosity and worry. "Now, what will this favor cost me?" she asks, her voice laced with a hint of challenge as she crosses her arms defiantly.
Thal lets the woman speak, watching as she adorns herself in new clothes, seeming far too interested in accessorizing for her own liking. She doesn't linger on the state of her body other than to note the vicious scars with mild curiosity. Although, based on her physicality, Thal feels no hesitation in requiring hard labor in exchange for the clothing, depending on what she decides to claim as payment.
When the woman finally completes her fashion show, the Ancient places a stack of coins on the counter for the attendant. "Well, Mallory, just be thankful that I happened to be bored." It's a flat explanation for her actions, dismissing any notion of kindness or altruism. Having completed her business in the shop, Thal steps back out into the street. She has little doubt that Mallory will follow behind and begins walking towards the food stalls. Thal ignores the inquiry about cost, instead diverting the topic back to Mallory. "That wasn't much of an introduction. I know your name, but who are you?" The question is accusing and annoyed. Her area of skills or expertise are vital pieces in telling Thal what kind of use she can be, or if she will be a waste of time.
Stepping up to a stand advertising "The best food in Caido," she exchanges another stack of coins for two bowls of steaming noodles in savory bone broth. The warm steam wafts a delicious smell into the air around her face and the heat of the bowl eases the growing ache in her chilled fingers. It calls to her stomach in a comforting siren song, promising satisfaction of her hunger. After finding an open table amongst the shifting people, Thal takes a seat, keeping both bowls close to her and indicating to the spot across from her. She then puts her hands under her chin in stubborn patience, obviously willing to wait for answers before enjoying the food or offering it to Mallory. "So?"
