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!
They did lose someone to it—more than one person, actually—but Loren wisely didn’t follow up on that. He’d been trying to speak of perseverance, but of course Ronin, who was suffering, would think of death instead. And then it got even worse when the king brought up the sacrifice. “Definitely.” The Launceleyn’s voice was soft. It might require a sacrifice. These things usually did. But it wouldn’t be Ronin: the librarian would make sure of that through every means at his disposal.
Once again Loren’s attempt to explain fell flat. Maybe that was because there really was no excuse. Maybe the Launceleyn was just going to have to get used to the fact that he’d never be able to answer for what he did. Maybe there was no amends he could make, no repentance at the end of any path he could follow. That thought caused him to take another large sip, which would no doubt cause Ronin to judge the Launceleyn even more harshly. For some reason, the librarian didn't care about that any more. “No. It’s not wise,” he admitted. But it was necessary. And he didn’t think anyone would think him wise ever again, if they ever had to begin with.
Thankfully they moved on from things that Loren couldn’t do—explain himself—to things that he still probably couldn’t do, but at least could try. “I’ll make the most of it.” Empty words, probably, at least to Ronin, but the Launceleyn meant them. Then, however, the librarian was shocked enough to give his friend a hurt look; yes there were other people the Launceleyn needed to see, but Ronin wasn’t ever going to be secondary to Loren. “I came to see you, Ronin.” His voice came out softly, trying not to make this about himself, since he’d already done more than enough of that.
Then he hesitated, and looked down into the depths of his glass, as if by staring long enough the wine would reveal the truth to him, even though that was not where the truth in wine lay. “But. H-how is he?” There could be little doubt which he Loren was referring to.
Sacrifice or no, whatever Loren might want to plan would not prevent Ronin's death if a cure was not found sooner rather than later. And much as the hunter wanted to put on a brave face, his time was almost up and he knew it, even if no one else wanted to admit to it. Sipping at his wine and rolling his eyes as Loren agreed with him and kept drinking anyway (proof, at least, that it really was the Launceleyn sitting nearby, and not some clever intruder), Ronin nodded curtly at the librarian's comment. If Ronin had thought he'd be around, he'd hold Loren to it.
But then the conversation soured considerably, Ronin raising an eyebrow as the other man spoke, confused at first, before realisation slapped him across the face. "I was talking about myself," he said flatly. "I'm obviously not the same person you last had a conversation with." Motioning at the state of him, that much should be all but painfully obvious. But Loren had clearly taken something else from it, and they stumbled right into the heart of what the ex-captain was trying to avoid.
Blue eyes hardening, he drained the rest of his glass. "He has been better," he said, his tone curt. "I'm dying, so... that is obviously not great. I put him through it once already, so this time is insult to injury. He's driving himself mad trying to find a cure for the blight - I think only Aoife is keeping him grounded these days." And if you hurt him, Loren, I will kill you.
”Oh.” It seemed a totally inadequate response to such a monumental mistake on Loren’s part. Then again, that seemed to be his specialty these days. ”Right.” It was true that Ronin seemed different, and not just because of the blight. Or maybe it was all the blight and the Launceleyn just didn’t remember his old friend and now stranger as well as the summoner thought he did. There didn’t seem to be much to say in that moment, so Loren just took another sip of his drink, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. Not having considered what the time away might’ve done to his tolerance, he was already feeling a bit buzzed. ”Well...I’m an idiot.” The chagrin in his voice was clear.
If Loren could hear the other man’s thoughts, the Launceleyn would’ve responded You’d have to beat me to it, because if I hurt him again, I’d kill myself. The last thing he wanted was to cause any more strife to Remi. As the summoner listened to how the alchemist was doing, it was all the librarian could do to keep his gaze steady. He opened his mouth to ask who Aoife was, remembered Ronin mentioning his daughter, put two and two together, then closed it again. Opened it once more to try to offer sympathy, before Loren realized there was nothing he could say to make it better, and shut it again with a snap. Then, he just sighed. ”I’m glad you two found one another. Despite...everything.” Everything they’d been through, and everything Loren had done.
"Aren't we all, to some extent?" Ronin muttered as Loren called himself an idiot, nursing the wine in his glass and staring into its depths rather than taking another drink. He didn't think it would do much for him to have more than a glass; not with present developments or in present company. Things had changed, in some ways irrevocably, and denying that would simply be foolish.
With a sigh to match the librarian's, Ronin shrugged his shoulders and leant back on one hand. "It's just a shame we'll likely lose each other again before the next season is through," he muttered. Once upon a time he'd have cut right to the heart of the matter - why had Loren left Remi? Why hadn't he cared about the alchemist enough to not step on his heart and grind it into the ground? What did he expect to happen now that he was back?
But that would have to wait for another time, unfortunately. If that time ever came. Thanks for visiting, Loren," Ronin said, the words sounding hollow even to himself. "Would you mind, though, if I went back to sleep? I'm not feeling great."
Ronin’s statement was true enough, and Loren nodded. ”Maybe. Some more than most, and me more than some.” It was true that coming here was hardly the action of a wise man. However, the Launceleyn had always been more stubborn than smart, and this was no exception: he was sitting here, in the home of a man that Loren had abandoned, and expecting that, somehow, eventually, the king would come around to the Launceleyn being back. That through sheer persistence he could wear down the other man’s understandable misgivings and get back to something near what they’d once been.
That seemed less likely, now, than before. Which made it easier in some respects, since they could make something new rather than try to recapture what they had. Or at least, Loren would. It was obviously entirely up to Ronin what role the Launceleyn would play in the other man’s life, and if the king wanted nothing to do with the librarian, Loren would respect that.
Then, however, Ronin basically told Loren that the king had given up any hope of surviving the blight, and the Launceleyn frowned at the other man. ”None of that now. You’ve survived worse than this and even come back from exploding, so a little illness is not going to kill you.” Maybe it wasn’t the wisest comment to make under the circumstances, but the alcohol had loosened the summoner’s tongue. ”And you absolutely do not need me to tell you this, or want to hear this from me of all people, but sometimes believing we can make it makes all the difference. But even if you can’t have that faith for yourself, have that faith for...him. For Remi.” Loren had almost said ‘for me,’ but had caught himself at the last moment. That definitely wasn’t his place.
As soon as the other man asked for the Launceleyn to go, he downed his glass, stood, and grabbed the bottle. ”You’re welcome, and I would not mind at all.” Honestly, he was surprised that their reunion had lasted as long as it had, given the illness and other circumstances. Placing the bottle and glass on a table, Loren turned to go.
However, he paused in the doorway, and glanced back at the other man. ”I know I left before, when you needed me most. I know that it was unforgivable, and I do not expect that from you. But I am back, now, for good. And so I hope that, whatever you justifiably feel about me, you will let me help you with whatever problems you and others may be facing. Think of me as a tool to be used when needed and set aside when not.” As a king, Ronin might need that more than the friend Loren could no longer be.
With that, he was finally gone, heart sinking and tears streaming down his cheeks. But at least he’d kept himself under control in Ronin’s presence. Loren’s grief was his own burden to bear. He'd already given the king enough trouble as it was.
Once upon a time they might have played a battle of wits, or debated philosophy or at the very least joked about it. And maybe one day a similar conversation would take place - that time was not today, unfortunately. As Loren chastised him for apparently giving up, Ronin at least had the decency to scowl at the other man; it was rich, coming from someone who had literally swanned off for a year. But then Remi's name fell from the Launceleyn's lips, and before he could even get angry about it, he realised that Loren was right.
"Alright," he said quietly, nodding agreement and moving to lay down again upon the bed, hit head hitting the pillow near instantly. His eyes were closed but he still heard Loren's words, letting out a deep sigh as though he could just sink through the mattress. Did he believe that the librarian was back for good? Of course not. Had he not once fought to make Loren believe he was more than just a tool? Yes.
But times changed for both of them, it appeared, and whilst Ronin listened to what Loren had to say, it remained unclear how much of a difference it would make.
