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Character of the Season
Frail in body but dangerously quick of mind, Nikandr is the sort of character who proves that curiosity can be just as perilous as any weapon. A necromancer, inventor, and problem-solver with more ambition than self-preservation, Niki approaches the world like a puzzle box begging to be opened, even when what’s inside has teeth. Blunt, dry-witted, fiercely independent, and carrying a history best left partially buried, he has a knack for making even failure feel fascinating. Whether he’s raising the dead, moving across Caido to King's End, or experiencing a hangover for the first time, Nikandr brings a wonderfully strange spark to Caido, and we can’t wait to see what trouble his brilliant mind wanders into next.
Congratulations, Niki!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
Regardless of if the misunderstanding had been hers or Asta's, it only slightly affected her opinion, anger still coiling in her chest as she spoke. "Maea. Whether you asked him to kill you or just verbally remind you of your own stupid morals, you still implied that you would never want to be like him, like it was the worst outcome imaginable. And to ask it of him? How do you think that's supposed to make him feel?!" How was he supposed to feel comfortable with his own actions when he was supposed to keep someone 'accountable' for the same thing? Like guiltily indulging in sweets when helping a friend stay consistent with their diet. It made what should be something enjoyable taste disgusting, like acid or ash on their tongue, bloating with every bite.
At least Maea seemed to understand her error in asking to die, and Thal let that issue drop, crossing her arms again as the topic shifted to the moral and political quandaries. Her eyes narrowed at what could possibly make it such an issue, her humor empty. "If you start talking about the government punishing more people to fuel their bloodlust, I'm going to laugh." Because it was an absurd idea that wouldn't go unnoticed, and Thal was fairly certain there were far easier ways to corrupt a government.
"Well, what if I really think it is? What if to me, the absolute worst thing that can happen is that I stop viewing the people around me as people and begin treating them like food? I've had nightmares about it often enough. Chewing away at the face of someone, only to realize it was a neighbour, my brother, you..." Her voice quivered, a tremble starting up from someplace deep within that spread to her hands. Carefully setting the mug down, Maea braided her fingers together and leaned forward, elbows resting against her knees. "If you think that's offensive, then I can only apologize. It's still true, and the tolerance will have to go both ways. If I have to accept that the rest of you don't care, then you need to tolerate that I do."
An impatient toss of her head dismissed the suggestion, being far off the mark. "No, it has to do with the potential consequences of being perceived as cruel or inhumane. When I first set foot in Halo, a tribe of cannibals and cultists lived in a village called Whitebrim. They were outcasts and exiles from the rest of their society, and the government eradicated them. As they were in a minority, they didn't stand much of a chance." She looked up. "I've been persecuted before, Thal. As an Ascended, as an abandoned, for no reason other than being what I was. Did you know that there is an enchantment on the Greatwood, that traps an ascended in place and won't let them leave? Did you know that until very recently, Abandoned would die simply for setting foot in Stormbreak? A fae I knew tried to kill me simply for existing. And now I am supposed to feel safe when the one haven for Ancients is blatantly condoning cannibalism? Like it won't get us all killed the moment people have a moment to spare from the Family. You may be tolerant, Thalassa, but I can assure you that 'people' in general are not. You rage against that criminal for making me feel unsafe – well, so does Asta. And Danta, who made a rule but refuse to enforce it because the one who broke it happens to be someone he likes."
Thal might have related to Maea once upon a time, when she'd been a new Ancient still scared of her own bloodlust, but she wasn't the same person she'd once been. She'd grown into herself and the confidence of who she was along with what lines she'd drawn, when she could give in to the violence and rage, when she needed to hold back for fear of hurting people she cared about. The fact that Maea hadn't yet found that balance only made her pity her, especially to see her so thoroughly shaken by it all.
Her voice was soft only in volume as she reassured the woman, "I highly doubt your stubborn ethics would let it get that far." It was both a scathing compliment and a dig before she narrowed her eyes in seriousness. "But if that's something you're worried about, then you find someone else to keep you in check, someone who feels the same way you do. You don't ask Asta, who I might add, doesn't go around eating his friends." As if she might somehow not have noticed that they were both standing there, having never been eaten by the only cannibal they knew.
As for the rest, Thal couldn't say she understood any of the prejudice or fear that had previously existed in Caido. Her memory made it difficult to recall any of her own experiences, and the few lingering bits of physical evidence were crumbling with disuse. Perhaps that made her ignorant, but she'd count it as a blessing, not envying Maea's suffering. However, she stood firm in her own opinion, shaking her head. "It sucks that you went through that, but until I see pitchforks coming for us - and you best believe I won't go down without a fight - I refuse to live in fear of what people might think of a few people's actions." If she was that kind of person, she wouldn't be a pirate captain.
Crossing her arms again, she addressed the other 'issue' Maea had mentioned. "And just because Danta gives Asta permission doesn't mean they promote cannibalism within the Grounds. I hadn't heard about it until you told me. Even then, Asta was scared to tell me." Which meant they weren't waltzing around announcing the practice to the world or starting a new cult. If anything, the Butcher had made it clear that he wouldn't be inviting her to participate in the practice. How people would get the idea that the Grounds was full of cannibals was beyond her.
Heaving a long sigh, Maea rubbed at her temples. A headache was coming on, brought about by tension no doubt. "Believe me, I don't expect him to. It was a stupid ask and one I won't make again. I'll hold myself accountable - though once again you have more faith in my character than I do myself. I don't think you understand what it's like to have your head tell you one thing while your body with all it's impulses screams another. And then having everyone you talk to dismiss you as uptight and silly – just because I won't throw away the values I grew up with like they don't matter."
To her own dismay, tears were rising in her eyes as her control slipped. Growing pathetically emotional in the face of someone who scoffed at anything resembling weakness was humiliating; turning away Maea swiped angrily at her eyes, and counted her breaths, the beams along the ceiling, the panes of glass in the window until she had mastered herself again.
"Then at least he has learned some caution," she muttered, having very little pity for Astaroth's indulgences. "He told me about it the first time we met, with barely any prompting. And believe it or not, but I really tried to be okay with it. Especially since he assured me that he didn't eat people anymore, he said he didn't have to – but apparently he lied." Her voice hardened, hurt flaring at the dishonesty – far more personal than his choice of meat, despite her own objections. They were philosophical, indeed based on fear, and while still important to her, far easier to set aside than the dishonesty.
And when it came to those fears... Maea turned her palms up in a miniature shrug. "By the time they come with the pitchforks, it will already be too late. Don't you know how rumors work? It starts like a whisper. 'Outlaws in the Hollowed Grounds disappear'. No trials, no executions, nothing official; they just vanish. Weird, but not alarming. But since Asta can get away with eating people, and you know about it, and I, and Danta, and probably Charlie, sooner or later someone else will try it too. Perhaps someone with less discernment than Asta - and now it's not just criminals that go missing. It's merchants, relatives, innocent travelers - and soon it's 'anyone who goes to the Hollowed Grounds won't come back. " There was a grim certainty in the picture she painted, one experienced too many times to be so easily dismissed. "Soon merchants won't go there to do business. You will be cut out of deals, guards will start pulling you aside because you have horns and a tail and that must mean you're a Grounder, and therefore untrustworthy. If nothing changes, maybe someone will grow bold enough to throw rocks at you whenever you show yourself unglamored, and should a mob get riled up enough... blood will be shed. At which point our dear Theocrat will have to get involved, and now we're at the brink of war. All over something that could be prevented now, with a bit of consistency and no favoritism."
Reaching for the tea she drained the cup and refilled it, wishing she had anything stronger. But it was just as well there was no alcohol involved; she didn't needd anything else to lubricate her tongue, it was getting her in enough trouble without it.
Maea's plan to keep herself accountable felt petty and bitter, but the presence of tears softened Thal's tone a fraction, even as she stood her ground in face of the same argument they'd had time and time again. "We dismiss them because you're an Ancient now, Maea. Whether you like it or not, that's the reality, and no amount of fighting your bloodlust or justifying Dygra is going to change that. You're not the same person as you were, so you can't expect the same morals to fit, and you certainly can't expect them to fit every other Ancient." Like trying to wear someone else's clothes, her previous values might not suit her like they used to. Maybe they needed to be tailored for her new body - to accommodate the horns and tail - or maybe they needed to be discarded entirely to make room for the new.
Whatever tiny sympathy she'd just felt vanished like vapor in the heat of her anger. Her eyes narrowed at the insult to Asta, curious if Maea was proud of the fear she'd struck in the man - the shame he now wore beneath his scars. "You honestly think he would tell you the truth when you had such a volatile reaction to his confession? I don't agree with lying to you, but can you blame him?" When Maea's first thought was pitchforks and world outrage? She laughed a little, shaking her head. It was one of the reason's she'd never flat out told her 'I'm a pirate,' even though they both knew the truth. Because Thal knew that her 'morals' and 'ideals' would always trump whatever bond they had, would always urge her to disapprove of her and her profession, possibly to the point of turning her in or reporting her. To spare her the moral quandary, she didn't talk about it.
The idea of betrayal was almost as enjoyable as the future she painted, the one where Ancients might as well be lepers, threatening to eat or infect the world. She threw up a hand, a humorless laugh leaving her as she stepped away. "Well, dang Maea. I never knew you had such a peachy view of the future. Since you seem to know exactly how everything is going to work out, why don't you run the Grounds?" Turning back to Maea, she smiled, sharp and condescending. "Because what would you have Danta do as the leader? Kill his lover to prove a point? Would you want Asta exiled from the Grounds? Publicly shamed? Perhaps he should be flogged every time he needs to eat. Would that help you sleep at night? You really think that would stop people if they decided Ancients were the enemy?" Maea may think Thal naive of people or their motivations, but Thal knew enough to make a place for herself amongst the worst of them, and she knew - without a doubt - that it didn't matter. People would find ways to justify their actions one way or another, cannibalism or not.
Listening to the raven-haired woman, something sad came into her eyes. Pushing herself back into the armchair, Maea pulled her feet up onto the seat, the tail wrapped tightly around the bony ankles. The way she withdrew was a physical thing, barriers rising back up to where they had been before that row back in King's End, before snowballs and tears had punched a hole in them.
"I will likely never be convinced that life is not more precious than gold or personal satisfaction, that murder is not evil, or that destroying what others build is somehow more 'fun' than protecting or cultivating it. And I don't think I will ever feel the need to lie in order to fit in anywhere, or with anyone. I couldn't live with myself if I did. Blame... I don't blame him. I lament that my regard for him was built on a falsehood. If he had been honest from the start, I could have stayed clear of him and all of this would have been avoided." She looked at Thalassa, wondering why Astaroth's pain mattered more to her than her own. She wasn't pretending any more than he to be anything but who she was. Did it simply come down to compatability? Perhaps they were just too different, too far gone down their own roads to find any middle ground. Not for lack of desire – but if all Maea's experiences and values and ways to see the world held no value to Thalassa, why was she even here?
"I have no interest in ruling that place," she replied wearily. "Nor do I expect any of you to listen to or change for me, when it is abundantly clear that none of you share my concerns. That is why I don't live in the Grounds anymore. So that I can sleep at night. So that I do share the values of the people I surround myself with. Go ahead and live however you please, Thalassa. I will do the same, and I really hope I'm proven wrong and no one will ever condemn you for it." She didn't think either of them would be that lucky, but Maea hoped for it all the same.
"Is there anything else on your mind, while we're speaking honestly?"
She felt Maea's withdrawal in her chest more than she saw it with her eyes, the pale Ancient shrinking visibly as she spoke. Thal didn't interrupt, watching and listening as every wall and barricade were raised in the finality of her words. Her rage felt cold, slithering through her veins like it no longer sensed a worthy opponent on which to spark its hunger. And as Maea finished, she wondered if it was worth it to even try. Why had she come here to begin with?
Another dry laugh fell flat between them as Thal splayed her hands at her sides, feeling the dismissal in the question. "So that's it? You find out one dark secret, one lie, something you don't agree with, and you can't stand to be associated with that person anymore?" She shook her head, the dark waves of her hair catching on her horns. Her hand raked through them to rest atop her head, looking into the fire rather than the pale Ancient that was the source of so many of her frustrations. "I may not be the best to speak on it," gods, she probably wasn't even on the list, "but I think part of being friends is accepting the darkness, not ignoring it." Thal wouldn't claim to know anything about 'love,' but she had felt enough kinship with Asta to understand what it meant to be accepted despite her flaws, for someone to care enough to understand her rather than judge, and to support her strengths.
Sighing, she let her hand drop, her eyes meeting Maea's again, steely and swirling with a mixture of emotions that couldn't be named. "I don't fault you for any of your past - even the mistakes you made with Asta. I accept that you had your reasons - your 'morals' - but when you stake your self-righteous claims without any grace or chance at redemption, how do you expect to find peace with people?" When she spoke of non-tolerance and change like she was the only one with the answer book. When she let a single event or piece of information ruin her entire view of someone. When she was too bullheaded to just let things be.
"I came here because I needed to prove to myself that it wasn't a mistake to trust you again, because I want to consider you a friend despite your stubborn fixation on morality. But Maea, it doesn't feel like you want to make amends with Asta, I don't know if you'll ever fully tell me the truth when it matters, and it doesn't sound like you particularly care whether we're friends or not." There was a level of hurt in her words that she buried deep inside, trying to let the anger overpower any fear as she narrowed her eyes accusingly, wondering if this would always be the reality of their relationship; too similar to be enemies and too different to be friends.
"Everyone has their limits, their boundaries on what they will tolerate in others." Maea wasn't calm so much as she felt dull, listless - it was like speaking to a wall, the way her words kept bouncing off. At least that's what it felt like. "If I can't look at him without my stomach turning, without wondering who he decided wasn't worthy of another breath, if my friends or their friends or their family is ever going to be truly safe in his presence, then can it even be called friendship anymore? His words and your words and no one's words are ever going to take away from the fact that he can and does see human beings as less valuable than his own satisfaction - and I can't stand to be around anyone who thinks like that."
She knew she was drawing a line here, one that really might place the two of them on opposite ends. But Maea couldn't lie to the woman, couldn't sit there and pretend like she didn't think the way she did. It was harsh, and it was rigid, and no doubt it wasn't at all the fluid, changeable kind of nature she was supposed to be embracing - but then again, Maea had never done anything the way she was 'supposed to'. She'd survived as a child despite all the healers saying she should have died an infant. She had learned to hunt and provide in her own way despite her eyes failing her. She had escaped a cage everyone said was impossible to touch, and she had come back from death twice because she refused to sit down and let it end if it wasn't on her own terms.
"Is it really peace, if the redemption you speak of means that only one party does the changing, the compromising, the altering of views?" She frowned at Thalassa, her own temper finally sparking - even if it was a cold, pale kind of ire. "I'm supposed to throw away everything I believe in, become someone I am not, while Astaroth goes on the way he always has? His 'being good' still involves eating people. He says it's because of his childhood, because that's how he had to be, but has he actually tried changing anything about that? To me, it doesn't look like it. He's making a choice, every time he breaks that rule or promise or whatever he calls it, and if his feelings are hurt because I don't accept the choices he makes, then that is not on me. I don't see why I need to be considerate of his feelings when he doesn't give a damn about mine."
Getting up out of the chair, she padded barefoot past her guest and threw another log on the fire. A thought had the flames flaring up in a rush of heat that did little to chase the ice from her fingertips, and nothing at all to quench the sizzling bile in her throat. "I am willing to make amends for the injuries I caused him, because that is my fault. But I am not going to chase after someone who won't return my letters, who won't respond to heartfelt apologies - if Asta wants to try too, then it's his move now. As for you..." She turned around, her tail twitching with pent up emotion, hurt and anger and sadness warring for domination despite her every effort to hold them back, swallow them down, keep them from taking control of her tongue and uttering words she did not mean.
"I do care, Thalassa. You are one of very few people that make me want to keep going in this shithole of a world. But all I hear you saying right now is that I'm not good enough. That I need to change, that I need to stop being me, in order for you to like me. Even though I've never once asked that of you. You're pissed at me because I didn't tell you something, you're threatening to hurt me if you don't get to act however you want around me, and now you say you don't trust me, you don't think I care... because I have some fucking boundaries?"
She laughed. Or scoffed. Or perhaps just gasped for breath, because her head swam - pounding, throbbing, ringing with a quiet keening sound that wouldn't go away - and very little of this conversation was making sense to her. "I admit I have been a shitty friend to you so far, and I am trying to do better. But is this how you mean that our relation should be? To act as punching bags for the other whenever something comes up? I'll tell you right now, that's not what I need from a friend. It does not make me feel safe, or comfortable, or even a little bit keen on trying to meet you halfway. Because, just like with Asta - what are you bringing to this? What are you willing to give, to make this work?"
It felt like Maea had finally reached the point of exhaustive truth, the kind without a carefully curated filter or rosy hues, the one that showed Thal exactly what she still thought of Asta. And it made her blood boil. She clenched her fists, feeling the returning anger flare at the thought of this twisted game Maea had made out of everything, this shifting blame and empty apologies.
As she moved past, Thal let out a low growl, her fangs baring in frustration and disbelief. "Then why lie to him again? Why act like you want to 'compromise' when nothing but stopping would be enough for you? Why pretend like you're sorry?! You don't care about anything except your own conscious and don't pretend otherwise." They both knew her only motive for wanting Asta's forgiveness would be to clear any guilt that still lingered, the dark blemish on her otherwise pure soul.
Her head threw back in a laugh, unable to believe that Maea could be so thick skulled. "Is that what we're calling your icy fortress now? 'Boundaries?'" She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, holding back another bout of humorless laughter in the shake of her head. Looking back at the pale Ancient, she pointed her finger. "I'm pissed because you didn't tell me something important. The fact that you don't get that or realize that I would never hurt you means your ethical soap box isn't high enough to let you see the reality beyond your pristine castle walls."
The barrage of words and emotions continued to beat against her; pity, shame, confusion, hurt, guilt. Thal turned away, tail lashing as she pushed aside all the anxieties for anger, clutching to it like an anchor in a storm of insecurities. She wasn't the problem, and despite the uncertainty trying to climb aboard, she refused to let Maea capsize her.
Spinning on her heels, she clung to every bit of confidence she could muster to fuel the fire in her eyes. "I show up, Maea." Her jaw clenched, brows furrowed in rage. "I won't coddle you with pretty words or lie just to make you feel better. I won't pretend like I agree with whatever righteous nonsense you've decided to take a stand against this time, or whatever self-deprecating lies you've decided to tell yourself. I will never be that kind of friend." If she was looking for kind words or validation, she wouldn't find it in Thal, because those capabilities had burnt up long ago, leaving nothing but a violent blaze of loyalty to show for her affections. "But I stood by you against the Void multiple times. I supported your decision to move out of the Grounds and helped you do so. I helped you look for and find the Rose. And most inexplicable of all, I would have done anything to stop your death." She sneered at the last sentence, knowing full well that she would have taken Maea's place in a heartbeat, even as she wondered whether she'd make the same decision now.
"Actions speak louder than words, Maea, and I think mine speak for themselves." As she stood, hands clenched at her side and teeth bared, there was a challenge in her eyes, one that asked, 'What do yours say?'
"It's not a lie! I can absolutely want to repair what I broke and still not want any further part in the life he chooses to lead. But since it's you that's here, arguing for us to make up, and not Asta, it's pretty damn clear that you care more about the whole thing than he does."
Feeling her temper begin to slip, Maea sucked in a deep breath and held it, forcing herself to calm down. The silence as she let Thalassa's points sink in was uncomfortable, but she made it a point to endure it anyway. Like standing upon a precipice with dire consequences everywhere her gaze fell, she felt trapped between following what her own moral compass told her was right, and risk losing a friend. Because Thal did show up, she did help when she could, she was real and frank and honest, and all the flavors of confident that Maea would never be. She adored all the ways they were different, and found comfort in the small yet profound things they had in common – and it hurt, hurt so fucking bad to hear that Thal didn't feel like she was enough.
"Then... what would you have me do?" Her voice softened, quivered, but held; like she sought that unwavering stare and hold it, at a loss for what else to do. "What do you need from me? Because I am doing my best, Thal, the only way I know how. I'm not trying to shirk responsibility for what I've done. But there really are things I'm not okay with, and I... don't want to give up the parts of me that care. Even for scum like that man, even for strangers I will never meet. Even if I could... and I don't think I can. Not without ceasing to be me."
As for the rest... opening up to others was never her strong point. It took more than a few therapy sessions to change that, and clearly more than the time they had spent together to trust that offering anything to Thalassa wouldn't end in pain or humiliation. It was not a slight to her, but rather a sign of how closed off Maea really was. Out of necessity, to protect herself against pain – and clearly it wasn't doing anything for her anymore.
"You're right. It's probably because he's already given up on reasoning with you." The words were out before she had a chance to think better of them, knowing that they were true. Asta no longer saw any benefit in subjecting himself to Maea's scrutiny, especially when all she wanted to do was smooth over whatever part she'd played in his pain then go about ignoring him. And honestly, Thal couldn't blame him. After hearing everything Maea had to say about him, she didn't think they'd ever see eye to eye, and she'd rather they never spoke again than have to see them rip at each other.
As for what she wanted...
Thal sighed loudly, propping one hand on her hip as she ran the other over her face. "I'm not asking you to change who you are, Maea. I'm asking you to be tolerant of others. People are more than just one thing." Just like Asta was more than just a cannibal, and Thal was more than just a pirate. They may speak volumes about their morals or character, but they were made up by more than the darkest parts of themselves. She should know that more than anyone.
Finally looking to Maea again, the blue of her eyes was serious, although the anger had dipped back to a simmer. "If this is going to work, I need you to be honest, Maea. Be honest with me when you're hurt. Be honest with me when you're facing something. Be honest with me about your opinions - even if we don't agree. And be honest with yourself, because it doesn't always feel like you are." Like the fact that she still didn't see how her 'apology' was a selfish request rather than one of true willingness to reflect on her opinions and why it had caused her to lash out.
Her eyes narrowed, knowing that her next point may be the most difficult, but that it was something she was unwilling to negotiate. "And you're going to have to respect that I like Asta. Whether you agree with his lifestyle or not, he's someone I value, and if we're going to be friends, you're going to have to be okay with that." Thal waited, a single hand on her hip as she braced for whatever onslaught of arguments Maea might throw her way.
Well. That made things nice and simple, didn't it. She could drop any expectation of mending that burning bridge and go on with her life. The way she flung her arms out was exasperated, though not really surprised. The silence had told her enough, and the only question that remained was why she kept on beating this dead horse with Thalassa.
"How about we stop debating it, then, if it's a moot point anyway. He's not going to stop. I'm not going to suddenly be okay with his choices. If that's the final result then so be it." She didn't like it, but there were a lot of things she didn't agree with, and since she couldn't change this, the only way to live with what she knew was to distance herself from it. From him, them, the entirety of the Grounds – no doubt there would be no objections if she never set foot in the place again.
Letting out a slow breath, Maea rubbed at her temples, wishing the headache would go away. Still agitated enough to want to snap at Thalassa, she knew it was just pigheadedness and held her tongue. Turning over the terms and conditions in her mind, trying and failing to see when she'd been dishonest in the past. Apparently, not speaking counted as a lie? She did not agree with that, but if that was how the other woman saw things...
"Be friends with whomever you like," she replied wearily, as she returned to her armchair and slumped down into it. "I won't say another word about Asta or take his name in my mouth ever again, if that helps anything. I can't change the past, but I can promise to do better from now on." Hooking a leg over the armrest, Maea closed her eyes, finding that the dark helped ease the throbbing pain. "I would appreciate if you didn't throw threats around anymore. I don't read subtext very well - I'm always going to take your word seriously, so if you say you're going to do something, I'll believe you. And if you could stop calling me a liar for having opinions that differ from yours, I'd be grateful. That shit hurts."
A brief silence followed while she sorted through her thoughts, testing the limits of her tolerance like one might run the tongue over a broken tooth.
"In theory, I can see the logic of it, you know? There's life, and death, and all the complicated interactions in between that we call nature. Vi, Mort, Rae – all standing upon what Caido created, in balance. Then there's Dygra, who unmakes, who changes, disrupts balance and brings about new order, which again changes. I can accept that Dygra's children would view all of Caido's creations as fair game, in a purely theoretical context. The difficulty lies with me not being entirely Ancient." Physically, perhaps – 'in all the ways that matter' the goddess had said – but Maea wasn't sure that was true. "Unlike you, I still remember what it's like to live without bloodlust or fangs or these," she said, flicking a finger at her horns. There was a hollow sounding thunk as the nail connected, and she felt the impact, as always a bit disoriented whenever she really reflected on the added extremities. "I know what it's like to be hunted, and eaten, and it's very difficult for me to reconcile the drive to inflict those things upon others. What rankles the most is that I am compelled to do it; it is not a choice I can make freely, and I resent that. I also resent that I feel the same urges whether I look at a deer or a person walking down a road. It makes me sick, that I even have the capability of viewing someone like that. Like... meat. Like we're not the same, equally capable of laughter and tears and equally worthy of life. When standing face to face with someone who looks like me and talks like me and dreams like me, I can't accept that I'm supposed to prey on that person. No matter what any god says or intends. And I... find it extremely difficult, and distasteful, to have to turn a blind eye to that same practice being carried out elsewhere. Partly because I fear being included in any retaliation, yes. But also because I simply don't feel it's right. It goes against everything my father and brother taught me, growing up. I dishonor them every day I keep silent about an evil and let it perpetuate, and I dishonor myself by letting fear of consequences keep me from doing what I feel is right." She drew a long breath, and let it out again in a sharp sigh, impatient with the contradictions in her head. "But. As you so kindly pointed out, not everyone thinks like me. And I can't change the entire race. I can't even change myself. So as far as I can see, the alternative is that I do what I'm doing now; steering clear of the others, finding my own way – some kind of middle ground that I can live with, hopefully without going completely insane." Was that tolerance? Was it acceptance? In part, Maea knew it was at least avoidance, but if that was the best she could do at the time, it would have to suffice. Whether Thalassa accepted that or not... was up to her.
Whatever pipe dream Thal had of her two (1.5?) friends being cordial together was quickly dashed, smoke in the wind. Hopes of shared laughter or shared meals blown away in one final word, "Fine." Because they all knew Asta wouldn't stop his ingrained habits, and Maea would never be able to see him as anything more than a monster. And that put Thal right in the middle, trying to somehow mend something that wasn't hers to begin with, with an anger that didn't seem to matter anyways, because what good was anger against a brick wall? It felt like Thal had been banging her head against that wall, screaming herself hoarse in hopes they might lower, all in vain.
Watching Maea prop in her chair, her own posture lost its sharpness, a hopeless exhaustion beginning to pull at her limbs. "You're right. You don't read subtext well, because I've never made a threat against you and I've never called you a liar for having a different opinion. Maybe if you were actually listening, you would know that." Threats against her possessions? Sure. Judgement for her opinions? Absolutely. But Thal refused to let Maea continue misconstruing her anger and apathy for something malicious, as if her only goal in life was to find an excuse to tear her down.
The following tsunami of words was like being waterboarded by every argument or disagreement they'd ever had: Dygra, bloodlust, ethics, pasts. It overwhelmed her to silence, trying to keep track of the tangent that had derailed the conversation. As she processed it all, her eyes narrowed in frustration for the repetitive points, but she didn't speak until the end. Crossing her arms, Thal gave Maea a stoic look. "I appreciate your unfiltered flood of honesty." It was what she'd asked for wasn't it? Even if they'd already perseverated every topic to exhaustion, leaving her with nothing new to contribute.
As for Maea's 'plans' to deal with everything - her avoidance of anyone that with a differing opinion - it felt more like running that accepting. Thal might have argued the decision, might have pushed for the pale Ancient to understand that she'd be living in a lonely bubble of her own making, but one aching point seemed to ring in her mind. Her voice was resigned, knowing the truth even if Maea hadn't accepted it yet. "I suppose that includes me." It was the softest she'd spoken thus far, her head dipping for a moment before she faced her down frenemy, the one who would rather isolate than assimilate. And being the largest source of mental strain, Thal didn't think her presence would be conducive to whatever 'idealistic utopia' the woman was trying to build around herself.
Cracking open an eye, she gave Thalassa an exhausted look. "Then why are you asking me to be honest? It sort of implies I haven't been, which simply isn't true. I've never told you a single lie or said a single word I did not believe in at the time. And you said moments ago that if you couldn't shout, you would do so much worse. How is that not a threat?" Gods, but they were talking past each other, neither getting the point the other was trying to make. It was exhausting, frustrating, entirely disheartening, and Maea didn't know what to do, or where to go from here.
Not when Thal spoke like that, sounding so defeated. Her heart ached to hear it, and the pale-haired ancient cast wildly about for an argument that would exclude her from 'the others'... but came up empty.
"I... don't know," she replied quietly. "I mean, I don't want it to. But I can't seem to give you what you're asking for, unless it's the honesty. And if we can't hold a conversation without arguing... We did fine as long as we were shifted, right? And when we're fighting together. As long as we have a common goal. Is that enough? I don't... know." The problem was that their values differed so wildly. Even if they pointed in the same direction, the methods they used to get there inadvertently lead them down different paths. Was it possible to maintain a friendship if you only met up once in a blue moon for a drink, a hunt, to compare events and then go separate ways? She supposed... but it would never be the close kind of bond they both seemed to crave.
