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!
That she wouldn't be left alone helped to calm her - at least for the moment - and she allowed Harper to pull her up off the couch and lead her to the kitchen. She kept the blanket wrapped around herself with her free hand, again returned to her childhood, when she used to pretend that her blanket was a cape as she dragged it around the house. It was a startling memory, pleasant in the wake of such pain, and Soh felt herself relax marginally.
She considered her food options, weighing them silently as she looked at the leftovers in the fridge. Something about the pasta seemed too heavy, so while she normally would have chosen that, she shook her head slightly. "A sandwich, if that's okay." She closed the fridge, leaning against the counter nearby with her blanket wrapped tightly about her shoulders. Of the two tea choices, she had her preferences, so she tried on a ghost of a smile and said, "Chamomile, please."
The smile felt foreign on her lips and probably looked as pained as it felt, but it was a start. HE'd been kind enough to allow her into his home, to welcome her with - literally - open arms. The least she could do was try to cheer up a bit.
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
"Sandwich it is!" He happily plays into the jovial tone, lifting her hand to press a loud kiss to her knuckles before he dares to part their fingers - and quickly replacing it with the tea as the water comes to a boil. She'll have to wait for it to steep, but at least she can cling to it while he makes her the requested sandwich. He checks in with what ingredients she wants as he puts it together, carefully slicing it diagonally the way he has since Jude was a baby.
"Alright, back to the couch with you." He shoos her dramatically with one hand, carrying the sandwich with the other and dogging her steps as they return to the living room. He waits for her to have a free hand before handing her the plate, sitting beside her on the couch this time. It seems she hasn't had any negative reactions to physical closeness, so he feels more confident doing so. It also makes him privately relieved, assuming whatever trauma had occurred had not been sexual in nature, or at least had not advanced far enough to make her cringe away from his touch. "No talking about anything serious until that sandwich is gone, okay? And maybe even after a bubble bath." If she shows interest in the idea he'll make that a priority too.
Turning more towards her, he touches her hand gently. "And if you don't want to talk about it tonight at all, you don't have to. The spare room is all yours for as long as you need it - and mine too, if you want. Jude still sleeps with me sometimes, but you can't tell him I told you that." Smiling and touching the side of his nose with a finger, winking cheekily in the hopes of making her smile despite the sincerity of the offer.
What little Sohalia remembers of her parents was that they were unfailingly kind; so, too, was Auden, in their own gruff and grumpy way. She remembered scraping her knees one time when she was climbing in a tree, and when Auden dressed the wound, they were scowling - but their hands were gentle and careful, their eyes tender. It was that kindness, that carefulness, that tenderness that Soh felt now, in the house that she very much considered her home away from home, from the man that she had rapidly come to view as something of a father figure in her life.
The slightest of smiles lifted the corner of her lips at the loud kiss on the back of her hand, and she clung to the teacup as Harper prepared the sandwich - slicing it, funnily enough, just the way she liked it. She allowed him to shoo her back to the couch, where she sat cross legged, setting her tea aside in favor of the sandwich, lifting it to her mouth to take a bite. She hadn't felt very hungry before, but the sandwich tasted so good that it took no time at all for her to finish the first half. She must have been hungrier than she'd thought.
She was privately glad that Harper sat on the couch this time, relieved to have him close enough to touch without him having to be in what had to be an uncomfortable position in the floor. With the blanket draped around her shoulders, she continued to eat her sandwich, taking the occasional sip of tea. Harper's cheeky wink solicited a small giggle from Soh in spite of herself. She certainly wouldn't tell, although she couldn't blame her best friend for wanting a little comfort now and then. It certainly did feel isolating, sleeping alone, particularly after something bad had happened.
But the good cheer lasted only a few moments, for as she finished her sandwich, she realized that she did want to talk about it, even if it was hard. After all, Mateo hadn't judged her, and Tal hadn't judged her - in fact, he'd even said she'd done the right things. Maybe Harper would feel the same way. Besides, it was destroying her to try to carry it all herself. Still, something made her hesitate. Perhaps she didn't want to destroy the positivity that Harper was trying to bring to the situation, or perhaps she was embarrassed to talk of such things to someone she viewed so highly, or perhaps she simply still felt like everything was all her fault.
In the end, she chewed on her lip, picking up her teacup to grasp it between her hands, her empty plate sitting on her lap. "I don't... not want to talk about it," she said finally. "I just - I don't know how to -" She stopped, frustrated when tears pricked behind her eyes again. "Ugh, I just can't stop crying!"
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
After a few seasons of repeated visits, she is not the only one who feels deep familial ties between them. Harper has always wanted a big family, and time and again the chance had been taken from him. While he has never over-valued notions like biological relation, it had been a blow to know he would not be able to give Jude siblings the way the boy had so often mentioned in his youth. So when Sohalia started coming around, it was truly inevitable how Harper would start to feel. It's why, beneath all the comfort and gentleness, there is a dark thing that twists in his chest with the desire to hurt and break whoever or whatever had harmed her.
Pleased to see her eat half the sandwich so quickly, Harper doesn't pressure her to continue at the same pace. It was better than just toast, and while she finishes the rest with less gusto she finishes it all the same which is a win in Harper's book. And while her small giggle makes him smile, relieved, it cannot truly last and they both seem to know it.
Taking the plate from her lap as she cradles her teacup, Harper places it on the coffee table in front of them and hikes one leg up onto the couch to turn and face her better, expression understanding. "It's okay to cry your way through it if that's what you need." He would be able to parse her words even mid-sobs if it made her more comfortable. "Whatever it is, I promise I will still be here no matter what. If you want me to keep it secret, help you, hide you away - it doesn't matter." Shuffling closer, he puts his arm around her shoulders to let her lean against his chest while still holding her tea. "Just start from the beginning."
Harper took the plate from her, and Soh murmured a quiet thanks, holding her teacup in her lap as she gazed at the liquid inside, suddenly unable to meet Harper's eyes. She didn't want to cry anymore. She'd spent most of the past week crying - and it was beginning to make her angry. It was a foreign feeling to the cheerful young woman of her past, and she hated that the man who'd attacked her had brought her to this. And that hatred scared her more than anything else she might have been through.
She bit her lip in thought, twisting her teacup this way and that to watch the tea inside shift and swirl. When Harper shuffled closer, she looked up in surprise, but she didn't protest as he wrapped an arm around her, instead leaning against his chest with a soft sigh. He was right. She should start at the beginning.
And, just as she'd anticipated, silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she began. She swiped them away angrily. "I think what upsets me the most is that I was stupid and naive," she said. "I went out to eat in the Silk Houses. I'd heard rumors about the area, but I just... didn't think anything would ever happen to me." She stared at her tea, stuck somewhere between sad, angry, and numb.
"I was working on a new map, and I lost track of time, so it was dark when I left the restaurant. I thought I'd take a shortcut home." She spoke softly, emotionlessly, almost as if in a trance. "I was walking home and somebody called out that I dropped something, so I stopped, and this man -" She swallowed, the man's face flashing before her eyes. She started to tremble. "He - he pushed me into an alley and he told me to give him my money, so I did, but then -" She paused, trying and failing to just breathe.
She forced herself to continue. "But then, h-he grabbed me, and I t-tried to fight back." She was crying now, her voice thickening with emotion. "But I d-didn't bring my staff with me, and I wasn't s-strong enough." She wasn't sure how to describe the way the man had punched her, dragged her by the hair, backhanded her. "I - I thought he was - I thought he was going to -" But she couldn't say it, not even to Harper. Still, it was clear enough to anyone with sense what the man had intended.
She shuddered on, her breath coming in short sobs. "I had my dagger and I - I managed to draw it and I - I stabbed him." It had been terrible and bloody, and she'd been sick after. She was starting to feel queasy now. She regretted the sandwich she'd eaten. "I think - I thought - that I'd killed him. But then -" But then things got fuzzy, and she rushed through what she could remember. "But then Mateo found me, and I think he healed the man, but then later he said that he should've just let the man die, but I didn't want that, I didn't want any of it, I just wanted - I just wanted to get away."
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
It is one of the hardest things Harper has ever had to do to sit and listen as Sohalia speaks and not interrupt or wipe her tears away. What’s worse is it is a story he has heard so many times, across all genders and age groups. He has sat with students, soldiers, friends and family having this talk so many times.
He had this talk himself once. A very long time ago.
It had not ended on a note as relieved as Sohalia’s, but that relief bubbles up fiercely inside his chest to hear that such a fate had been headed off by a well-meaning stranger.
Only when she tapers off does he pull her close, one arm crossing in front to gently turn her into his chest as he hugs her. And for a few slow breaths (ones he emphasizes to try and have her following along) he merely holds her. Fighting down dark, evil thoughts and desires to focus instead on helping bandage these wounds that only his words can fix, not his hands.
When he’s ready he pulls back and gently touches her chin to make her look him in the eyes, wanting to impress the certainty upon her. In fact he even opens the Attuned bond so she can feel his emotions; love, protectiveness, empathy, sorrow. “Firstly, you were not stupid or naive. You were not to blame for his decisions or actions, and you deserve to go about the world - especially an established city - without looking over your shoulder at every moment.” That might not always be how the world works, but her intentions had not been wrong.
“And even if you had killed him, it would have been in self defense, and entirely justifiable. It may have been a burden on you to know he had died, but it would not have been your fault.” The certainly is even stronger now across the bond, almost insistent. Which brings him to the most important part, as he lays his hand on her shoulder and squeezes firmly.
“Sohalia I need you to hear me when I say it wasn’t your fault. Being unprepared, unarmed, or not strong enough does not matter. You didn’t deserve it, and I am so glad that you’re okay.” Harper’s eyes take on a slight sheen from the strength of that relief, though his lips tremble slightly, noticeable. “So, so glad. And honey I am so proud of you, because it takes an incredibly strong spirit to still care about someone’s wellbeing after they’ve hurt you. And even more to ask for help.” He is more impressed by her every day he is lucky to know her, and today is no exception.
“And I don’t know if it will mean anything, but it happened to me too once. I was not able to get away - and you know what, it wasn’t my fault either. The decisions of others do not define our worth.” Harper had gone through years of coming to grips with his own experience, trying to find his way alone. If he has any say, Sohalia will not be left to her own devices the way he was.
It was strange, the way it didn't get easier. It wasn't easy when she'd told Mateo. It wasn't easy when she'd told Tal. And it wasn't easy to tell Harper, for all that he was a surrogate father to her. But somehow, she managed to speak on, fumbling for the words and trembling, forcing herself to push through her pain and discomfort so that she could just get through the story and be done with it. For that was all she really wanted: to be done with it. To go back to the way things were.
To go back to being normal in a way that she wasn't sure she ever would be again.
Maybe that was why she kept forcing herself to tell her friends. Maybe she was hoping that one of them could convince her, somehow, that this wasn't her fault, that she wasn't just weak, that this didn't have to define her. And each time she'd opened up, her friends had all told her the same things.
Maybe it was different with Harper because he was like a father. Maybe it was the Attuned bond that made it obvious that he wasn't just telling her what she wanted to hear. Maybe it was just the repetition, hearing the same refrain over and over again.
It wasn't your fault.
The reassurance brought tears back to her eyes and she shuddered against Harper's chest, eyes filling with tears she'd long since thought spent. But it was! she thought, and through the bond, Harper would feel all of the pain and the doubt and the blame, and even the ugly pinch of anger that just wouldn't go away, and underneath it all the blanket of all-encompassing sadness that something innocent had been stolen, never to be replaced again. Even if the man hadn't finished what he'd started, she'd still be forever broken, wouldn't she?
But she could feel his love, protectiveness, empathy, and sorrow, his insistence that she listen and take his words to heart. And it was that, more than anything, that began to loosen the knot in her chest.
Just when she thought she'd gotten a handle on her emotions, Harper admitted that he'd been through the same thing, too, and her head jerked up to look him in the eyes, suddenly reflecting his own emotions back at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, horrified that someone she cared so deeply about had been through the same - worse - than her. But then she realized that, were their positions reversed, she'd be telling Harper the exact same things he was telling her.
That it wasn't his fault.
And again came tears that she hadn't known she'd been holding back, and this time when she buried her face against his chest, it came with a rush of relief and appreciation that hadn't been there before.
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
With the bond open now he can start to feel the deep, restricted feelings she hasn’t put into words. Emotions Harper could have guessed were living in her bones but which now rose to the surface like struggling demons against the refrain of his comfort and reassurance. It is like a tug of war, and Harper doesn’t intend to lose; keeping the waves of love and empathy reaching out to her like the ocean tides, relentless. And above all else, the sense of protection that comes from his arms and from within. Here, she is safe. Physically, emotionally, her secrets, her fears, even the bitter anger and hatred he can feel stirring deep inside the bond.
Her realization is heartbreaking, and Harper can only smile sadly down at her as he sees it all dawn at once. It is a secret he doesn’t mind sharing now as an adult, comfortable in his peace with the event. He knows it will only help - the final bail of realization as the tables turn and the same sentiments spring to the front of her own mind. So when she crumples he is there to catch and hold her, as he always will be. Rocking her as gently as he would a newborn.
“It’s okay to be angry. Hateful, bitter, scared. There is no wrong way to feel about what happened.” She will feel all of it and more for a very long time until she too comes out the other side, healed but still scarred. “And it’s also okay to want to get stronger, or to not. To change where you linger or go back to where it happened. Your healing journey is yours. Nobody - not even me - can tell you what you should or shouldn’t do to make yourself feel safer.” Pressing a kiss to her head, Harper squeezes her close. “And if you want me to train you, or go with you to the alley, or gods forbid even help you move - I am right here ready to do it.”
Pulling away slightly he cranes his head to try and find her eyes, offering a small smile as he pours one last emotion into the bond, isolated and deeper than an ocean. “Because I love you kiddo. And I’m so happy that you’re safe. It’s okay not to be okay, because at least there’s that.”
Safety and protection, that was what Harper meant to her now. It was the lifeline that she clung to as her emotions overcame her, carrying her away on a tidal wave of grief and sadness and pain. She cared little about the physical pain - her bruises would heal, and the scratches would fade. No, it was the deeper, psychological scars that terrified her and angered her in equal measure.
She'd never been one to hate anything, so to feel something akin to hatred boiling deep within her was something that, coincidentally, made her hate the man all the more. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but above all, she wanted to go back. Back to who she was before this, back to how she'd felt before this.
But there was no going back. There was only forward.
"I don't - want to be angry," she choked out through her sobs. "I just - I just want -" I just want to be me. But what did that mean, now? Who was she, if not kind, and trusting, and excitable? Who was she if all she wanted to do was hide away where the world could no longer hurt her?
She tried to listen to Harper, she really did, but mostly what she did was feel. His emotions through the bond were strong and steady, an outpouring of love and support that she was sure she'd done nothing to deserve but was grateful for all the same. She tried to focus on that - on her own affection and gratefulness, too, on sending that to Harper in all the ways she couldn't find the words to say.
His love, ironically, was what broke her as much as it saved her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been told that she was loved, and to hear it when she was at her most broken, her most vulnerable, her most unlovable - well, it was too much and just enough all at once. Thanks, Dad, she wanted to say, but it felt too strange and foreign on her tongue, too bold and too intimate and too raw. So she settled for just wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing him tight, as though she might never let him go.
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
He knows this is the tidal wave that will pull her under, and all he can do is hold tight to weather it right beside her. The only way she can heal is to bleed the wound of the lingering poison; only then, left scraped raw and vulnerable, would she be able to rebuild. So he waits and simply feels. Rocked in the waves of the wordless conversation they are holding as they cling to one another. A transpiration of emotions spurred by memories, and active echoing of thoughts and feelings. She may not be able to say the words out loud but the sentiment comes through like a beacon, and it warms Harper through and through. She need not feel the same way about him as he does for her, but to know it’s reciprocated still touches his heart. It gives him the strength and reassurance he needs to hold her through this storm, to know he’s on the right track.
“When it happened to me I didn’t want to be angry either. I felt like they’d stolen something from me that was so much more than physical. They’d taken my happiness - not because of the unhappiness of the encounter, but because I couldn’t imagine ever living without that hate, ever being happy the same way again.” In some ways his experience was different, as he’d been so full of rage at the world before it had happened. But that happy little boy from the circus had been the one to mourn, and Harper would never forget that feeling. “But being angry doesn’t mean you can’t be happy at the same time. Hating him doesn’t mean you can’t be kind to others who haven’t hurt you. Right now it might feel like all or nothing, like you won’t be able to stop feeling this every moment of every day, but tomorrow you might laugh at a dumb joke I make and for a moment you won’t remember anything but my punchline.” It’s hard to read from just her emotions what it is that she is so scared of having lost, so Harper tries to approach it from all angles as he gently rocks her. “Everyone hates the phrase ‘time heals all wounds’ but it’s true. And just like you can’t run on a broken leg, you can’t try to force yourself to be okay before it’s time. You have to ride out the storm first.”
The fact that he understood, that he was willing to share his experience with her in such a vulnerable way - it wasn't lost on Soh, no matter how deeply she felt she'd been dragged under by her own emotions. It was, in fact, his profound understanding of what she was doing through that anchored her, allowing her to weather the storm. As she sobbed, focusing on the tether that was his love for her, she turned her head to press her cheek against his chest, finding solace in the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Her loss was something that even she struggled to put words to; it was something that she couldn't quite name. She just knew that there was who she had been before - bright, trusting, kind, willing to believe the best of people - and there was who she felt she was now: dark, isolated, betrayed by her own kindness. Perhaps it wasn't even the man she was so angry with. Perhaps it was herself. That her own trust in others could betray her so brutally... that was the metaphorical pill that was so hard to swallow.
How could she believe in the goodness of the world when she'd seen that such darkness existed in it?
But as she listened, her sobs began to slow to heaving, shuddering breaths, and her hold on him began to loosen, as though perhaps she would be able to once again find control of her own thoughts and emotions. His words wrapped around her, his arms like a security blanket that she wasn't quite ready to let go of. As she calmed and listened, she snuggled closer, like a toddler after waking from a bad dream.
Her lips still trembled and her emotions were still raw, but for the first time in days, she began to believe she might heal.
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
Her silence is telling, and Harper takes a moment to readjust them so that she can lay more comfortably against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It’s not an unfamiliar thing for him; Jude still did it every time he crawled into bed with Harper, the quiet of the house too much to take. He can tell her emotions are exhausting her, and if she falls asleep now it would be no trouble to carry her to the guest bedroom while she slept. For now, he is happy to be her teddy, keeping her tethered and safe in the circle of his arms. One hand rises to gently caress her hair, hoping to continue soothing her physically so she might embrace the utter drain she is facing down.
“If I could do it, you certainly can. You’re so strong Soh. It will just take time.” Not only is she better equipped than he was back then, her support system is far larger, and privately he considers her heart to be purer than his ever was. The belief that she will overcome this is like a ray of light in the bond, immovably certain. On the heels of it is a calming, soothing feeling he tries to emanate to pull her deeper. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’m right here. You need to let go and rest now.”
Now that her sobs had subsided, Soh was faced with the complete and utter exhaustion that inevitably follows a complete breakdown. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but her mind was beginning to fall into the slow rhythms of sleep, helped along by Harper's gentle coaxing both in words and through the bond. The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was Harper's reassurances. Rest now.
---
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and Soh sat up in the familiar bedroom that had somehow become her home away from home with a yawn. For a moment, she forgot that this wasn't like any other weekend, when she might tumble out of bed to find Jude for a day on the beach. Then, with a rush, it all came back to her: the attack, the aftermath, her lack of sleep, Harper...
She flung herself back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Gods, what a mess she'd been. And yet, Harper had been there with her through it all. She chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn't hear movement beyond the bedroom. Maybe, to make it up to him, she could make him breakfast. Right. That was something she could do.
It was better than sitting still within her own mind, anyway. If she thought about last night too hard, she wanted to sit down and cry.
So she snuck quietly to the bathroom to tidy up - there was nothing she could do about the lingering bruises on her face, but she could at least clean her teeth and fix her hair - and then tiptoed into the kitchen, where she set about trying to dig as quietly as possible through the fridge and various cabinets for everything she would need to make pancakes.
If I can stop one heart from breaking If I can ease one life the aching
He lingers until her breathing has deepened, and waits even further beyond that to ensure any movement will not wake her. Only then does he maneuver slowly from beneath her to kneel beside the couch, taking her limp form into his arms to carry her into the guest bedroom. Taking the time to tuck her in and place a kiss upon her brow. While it is still called the guest bedroom these days, it has nearly become her own - made evident by the way she relaxes into it, clearly subconsciously recognizing the bed she has been placed in.
He stays at her bedside for an hour or two more, watching over her. Then he retreats to the front door with a pillow and blanket, and stubbornly sets up camp with his back to the doorframe. It is mostly performative, but whatever will make her feel safer is worth a night with a cricked neck and stiff joints.
- - -
He awakens the moment she opens the door, and groans quietly to himself as he stretches his sore body. Hearing Sohalia shuffling about in the bathroom, he catches a sparse glimpse of her as she ventures into the kitchen next. Brows furrowing, the Stalwart abandons his blanket and pillow to leisurely shuffle after her, ensuring she hears the sound of his feet so he won't startle her.
"Need some help kiddo?" he grumbles in sleep-gruff deep tones, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and summoning his first smile of the day for her.
