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!
Amalia was a mess and Ronin was pretty much her twin in that regard; with flour smeared across his cheek and spices dusting his hair, he was leaning in front of the oven as if he might be able to watch the honey cakes cook from there. Boyish was right, and it had only become moreso since his return from the stars. The Ronin who had been set free up there had carried the weight of grief and strife on his shoulders. The one who had come back was more carefree, certainly.
Her question brought a roguish smile to his face, and he stepped back to lean against the counter with her. "To leave the world a better place than I found it," he murmured. "And to give my daughter the best life I can. But if you mean why I am actually alive, well... a friend of mine discovered that, when she came to Caido, she arrived with more than she bargained for."
Cheeks flushing pink - because why anyone would give something up for him confused him, still - Ronin glanced across at Amalia. "She pleaded with Mort for my life. And... he answered, because what she arrived with was immortality. She traded that away, in exchange for my return."
It is nice to have a partner in crime, a person who is just as willing and able to make a mess out of creation as she has ever been. Amalia grins as she glances at Ronin, surveying the damage from flour and soot. "You've got a little something there," she laughs, gesturing vaguely at all of him, watching with quiet amusements as he stares at the cakes with all of the the faith of an impatient boy.
Ronin comes to stand beside her, and the baker scoots over to give him room. His answer is an easy enough thing at first, just what anyone else might say: to make the world better, to care for his child. It is not the thing she has asked for, and the girl tilts her head, considering pushing further. But she does not need to- Ronin tells a truer tale, and Amalia leans back, listening intently, her dark eyes never leaving his face. She catches the flush and raises an eyebrow, wondering the nature of this friend.
And when the story finally concludes, Amalia is left frozen, shock and awe and wonder and envy written on her face. "Mort?" the girl repeats softly, an aching reverence in her tone. "You... did you meet him? And Rae? And... and Vi?"
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
"A little something where?" Ronin echoed with a grin, lifting his hand as if to wipe flour off his cheek and only ending up leaving more in its place. Giving up, he grinned and let his hands drop so he could more fully concentrate on their conversation. "Mort," he agreed, thoguh he felt a pang of guilt at the reverence in her tone. Ronin shook his head gently, apologetically even.
"I never met any of them," he said. "I was only told what had been done. Safrin put me into the stars and she plucked me down again. I don't know anything about Vi or Mort or Rae. I mean... I do, but not personally. Sorry to disappoint."
She isn't sure whether to feel dismayed or pleased by the admission, her sense of wonder and need for divine intelligence clashing with the ugly envy in her soul. Crestfallen, at least, Amalia sighs, her shoulders dropping with a quiet "Ah." She aches to see the Old Ones, to know them, to have her prayers and reverence answered, her piety rewarded with acknowledgment, at least.
Dark eyes drifting to where Jyoti is now trying to show Sugar the garden, the girl grips the counter-top with softly drumming fingers. "It's alright," she answers automatically, his apology brushed away with a smile that does not reach her eyes. "Though... I have never heard of Safrin stealing a soul from Ludo before. You must be something special, Ronin." A little bittersweet, a little sad - why them, why the Outlanders?
Why not her family, her friends, her?
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
The awkwardness between them seemed to be returning, Ronin rubbing at a bit of flour on his sleeve and shrugging his shoulders, giving her a quiet and uncertain smile. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I'm not so sure. I'm just a man... I just... I was just trying to do my best for everyone." He sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
"Safrin knew that Vanya - Aoife's mother - was going to die in childbirth. Aoife was meant to... She wasn't meant to survive, either. Perhaps Safrin took pity on me, knowing the pain that was waiting for me at LongNight. Perhaps that's all." He frowned into the oven, as if it would give the answers.
"Everyone keeps saying that because it must be true." Still bitter, still rueful, Amalia shakes her head. The discomfort which had melted away is back, glittering ice between them- but the girl cannot help it, can do nothing except feel. "The gods reward the exceptional. You should accept it, and do your best to deserve your gift."
Pushing off from the counter top, she goes to investigate the cakes, peering into the oven as Ronin continues to speak. She is grateful that her back is to him, hiding the pain upon her face. Each word is a slap, an injury upon her injured soul, a reminder that somehow, in some way, she has failed. How many Naturals had been lost during LongNight? How many had ever been returned? Friends, and family, and her grandmother-
She swallows, her slender hands gripped to fist upon her apron.
"I am sorry for your loss," the girl says at last, not turning, unwilling to let him see her tears. "Aoife is fortunate, to have been given a second chance at family. Many... many cannot say the same."
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
Amalia moved away and Ronin still couldn't look at her face, let alone anywhere else, the hunter straightening up from the counter and fumbling to untie the apron, drawing it up and over his head. He didn't think he would really need it anymore, based on the turn their conversation was taking. "You're right," he muttered. "I still have a lot to learn, and a lot to make up for." Swallowing hard, he circled around the counter as if to put a barrier between himself and the ailing woman, dusting his hands off absently.
"So I'm aware," he mumbled. "I would die again and trade places with Vanya in an instant, if it meant she could give my daughter her mother back." Shrugging, Ronin rubbed at the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I'll go, I... thanks, for teaching me the recipe for those cakes."
He moves to leave, and for a minute Amalia considers letting him, the space between the widening like a hungry, gaping maw. What harm would it do to go back to being strangers, to isolate herself within her silence, to shield her wounds behind armor of pain? Ronin is lucky, blessed, in ways he cannot fathom, in ways that the girl can only dream. He is beloved, he is reborn, he has a family and a life and a second chance.
And Amalia? Amalia has nothing but the tentative bonds she has only just begun to form, like this one, fraying before her eyes.
"Wait." Turning swiftly, Amalia steps back toward the counter, something raw on her angular face. "Ronin, I..." I'm sorry? I'm jealous? I'm lonely? I'm scared? It does not matter what she says, because they are selfish statements, not empathetic, hungry for soothing and safety and balm. She pulls at her sleeve uncomfortably, licking her lips, dark eyes trained on the counter.
And then she looks up, and smiles, or tries, the expression a shadow of her former blaze but at least it is something, an offering of peace. "The cakes should be ready in just a few minutes. You should stay, so you can take some home." Because Ronin may be only one tie, but that string is attached to Remi, and Aoife, and Amalia will not let that web of connections fade away.
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
If not for the simplicity in the plea, he might have left. But Amalia's words halted Ronin in his steps, the hunter turning slowly back towards the counter to face her. He didn't know what he ought to expect - more questions? More wondering why him and not someone else? Someone who deserved it more?
But no. It was just a smile, tentative and hopeful, and a reminder of the reason he was there in the first place. Trying on a smile back, awkward as it might be at first, he gently nodded and stepped back up to the counter opposite the baker. "Alright," he said. "That sounds good. I'm sure Remi and Aoife will enjoy them."
She is surprised when he stops in the door, moreso when he turns around, hope and worry bubbling uncomfortably in the girl's gut. Hard as it is to reconcile her feelings of inadequacy, Amalia is determined to try, and grateful that he is giving her a second chance. Her smile is awkward, youthful and insecure; she grabs her left arm anxiously, rubbing at the scar on her wrist. Ronin has every right to hate her, to leave her to the empty bakery and her own mistakes.
But somehow he doesn't, and it makes him a better man than she would be.
"Shouldn't be much longer," she says, half distracted, her tongue falling silent as she suddenly realizes she has nothing prepared to follow up. Fidgeting, she looks away, dark eyes scanning the floury counter, the dusty windows, the sneaking sun. "I'm sorry," Amalia murmurs at last, unwilling to look back in his face. "For your losses, and the challenges you've had to face in my world. It isn't... a kind place, but at least we grew up with it. I can't imagine what it must be like, being ripped from what you know and spat out here." At last she glances up at him, earnest honesty in her open expression, an olive branch offered to bridge the gap.
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
Burying his hands in his pockets, Ronin glanced over his shoulder at a sudden trill from outside. Sugar soared in a moment later, as if sensing his discomfort, and the hunter couldn't help but let his smile grow a little warmer as he found a pale dragonling slung about his neck. "Not forgetting you, either. I know you'll eat anything," he remarked, before turning his attention back to Amalia.
"You don't have to apologise," he said slowly, shaking his head. "It hasn't been easy for anyone. Not for the people dropped in, not for those who grew up watching things like this happen. I'm equally as sorry for the people you've lost, for being the cause of all this change, so quickly... I never asked for this."
Amalia watches the white dragon speed in with a pang of guilt, which is only increased as Jyoti follows, cooing worriedly at her new friend. The starcalf settles on her shoulder, nuzzling the baker with soft concern. I know. I'm sorry, she thinks in response, reaching up to stroke the creature over her dorsal fin. Through sable eyes she watches the soldier and his companion, noting the care of his quiet nature, the way he still finds room to smile. Another pang of envy hits her then: not for his life but for his outlook, his ability to have endured such hardship and still persist with kindness and poise.
"You weren't the cause. The Voice was." She shrugs, but there is darkness on her face, guilt assigned where it was due. "It's her fault we were locked away to begin with. You all couldn't have known." She sighs, reaching below the counter to grab her thick oven gloves, knowing the honey cakes are nearly ready based on smell alone. Tilting her head, she pulls at her hair, gaze focused more on Sugar than the man. "If... if you could go back, would you?"
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
"Mm. We're in agreement there," Ronin murmured as Amalia mentioned the Voice, the hunter frowning and absently scritching Sugar under the chin (she trilled happily and nuzzled against his ear). "I suppose she's also the cause of all of us being pulled here," he said, wrinkling his nose and letting his hand drop. Of course he couldn't help but perk up as Amalia looked as though she was going to the oven, though - despite the drop in mood, he really had been looking forward to honey cakes.
Blinking at her sudden question, Ronin found himself shaking his head before his brain had a chance to let him respond verbally. He cleared his throat. "No," he said. "No, I don't think I would. I owe this world so much... and besides, while I may be of Northaven, my daughter was born in Caido. This is her world and I would have her see it all."
"She is," Amalia confirms, sighing and dropping her head back to her hands. Then she shrugs, reaching down to grab the oven gloves, the scent of nearly finished cake wafting deliciously through the store. It is easy, relaxing, to have routine, and even as she prepares to extract her wares the girl relaxes, comforted by the imminent completion of creation. Before she turns to get them, though, the question drops from her lips, a final test or query of sorts, a peek into his character. Amalia listens intently to Ronin's answer, blinking as he does. Something like a smile ghosts across her angular face; "I think she will," the baker answers. "The world is widening, just in time for her."
Turning away at last, Amalia retreats back toward the oven, though her voice floats back in an alto wave. "Have you been into the Spire, since... since it fell? I only went back once, but I'll be going again soon. To try and see if there's a Tulmhainar within, and if it can be saved." Returning to the counter, she lays out the tray of honey cakes, twelve in tiny ramekins fresh and piping hot. Picking one up, she demonstrates how to flip it over onto a cooling rack before offering Ronin a pair of gloves so that he might help. As she works she continues speaking, musing, a shy look crossing over her face as she does not meet his eyes. "Safrin asked me to do it, and... well, it might be good to have someone she has touched beside me."
Amalia & Jyoti
born from dark water, daughters of the rain and snow
