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 walked a slow circle around the Spire, Ianto's smile turning wry at Amalia's unexpected question. He thought on it for a few moments, nibbling at his lower lip as if embarrassed. "Once I would have said I'd do the same as I do now. I'd be a merchant, I'd travel and trade and that would be all I needed," he said slowly. "...But now? If I could - if the Greatwood weren't inescapable... I'd just run."
It sounded absurd when he said it out loud, but it didn't make the feeling any less real. "Or fly, I guess. I don't know where, or for how long... but I'd just go. What about you...?"
Run or fly. There is a tightness in Amalia's chest as Ianto says those words, a yearning and understanding that knits into her soul. Run or fly, until the ends of the earth, until freedom - true freedom - were in their grasp. "Me too." She does not look at Ianto, but up at the broken Spire: so long a symbol of their confinement, now just a relic, a mockery of days when she thought its downfall would set her free.
Something else she says makes her pause, though, a small frown growing between her brows. "Is it really inescapable?" Amalia wonders aloud, tilting her head to look back at Ianto. "There's so much more outside of it... the Fae have to know a way?"
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
Me too. The answer was unexpected, but kindled a warmth in Ianto’s chest that he didn’t realise he’d needed. Perhaps it was the guilt at freedom, or - and it was much more likely - the realisation that for all of his growth and his apparent gaining of wisdom, the coward’s way out was still his most comfortable. But then he did not think Amalia a coward, and yet they shared the same view. Somewhere, a tension within him began to relax.
”Hm? Oh no, I have no doubt that there are ways out. The Fae and the Greatwood seem to have decided it is in their best interests not to let anyone inside or out - though evidently there must still be a way. Arduinna and Delah are probably aware of them, though I wouldn’t be sure it was common knowledge.”
Amalia shakes her head a little in quiet exasperation. Initially she had been taken by the Fae, literally and figuratively. Their society, their knowledge, their understanding- but oh, it's exhausting to be constantly buffeted by stubbornness, to have everything guarded with such ferocity. Crossing her arms over her chest, the baker flashes Ianto a wry smile. "You'd think if they didn't want us traipsing around the forest they'd give us a way to go through it." The Fae have long been gatekeepers of the Greatwood, but now they are stopping those from the Hollowed Grounds from seeing the world as well. It's not sustainable, and something in Amalia aches and strains, angry to have another barrier, angry to be once again caught.
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
Ianto could only smile and give a shrug of warm agreement to Amalia at her remarks, though he understood, he thought, a little more about the Fae machinations. (Being a charge of Arduinna, however difficult, gave root to some strange insights). ”Perhaps they would have, were it not for those elemental storms,” he remarked, his footfalls slowing as they completed their slow and snowy perimeter around the Spire.
”The Fae are followers of the Old Gods, after all. If those gods look as though they don’t want anyone from the Hollowed Grounds going any further, it would be sacrilege to allow them through, don’t you think? They walk through the woods when the world to either side is blocked. Ouch.” It seemed a very good reason to remain guarded, in that light.
”Thank you for letting me walk with you. And for watching over my rose planting. You make quite the Spire guardian.”
Amalia's expression falters a little as Ianto explains the Fae's intentions, the baker mentally kicking herself for her repeat lapse of faith. Of course the Fae are keeping them trapped at the wishes of the Old Gods; of course they must be kept contained, the ascended must be kept contained. Lookin away discontentedly, Amalia bites her lip. "You're right," she murmurs softly, looking away. "Bringing down the barrier... sometimes I forget, all the danger it led to." The Voice loose. The ascended running wild. The blight.
Her smile returns at Ianto's compliment, face flushing with pleasure at the praise of her work. "Thank you. I... I don't know how much I can do, but I promised Vi I would do my best, y'know? To help and protect life. To.. to deserve being Safrin's shield."
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
10-08-2019, 03:42 PM (This post was last modified: 10-08-2019, 03:44 PM by Ianto.)
IANTO
”Danger is everywhere, though. As least there are still people like you, trying to hold back the tide.” A very bardic thing to say it was true, but Ianto was a storyteller at heart. He flashed Amalia a golden grin as she spoke, turning the collar of his coat up against the cold and adjusting his scarf to keep away the chill of the snow. ”That’s all the gods ever expect of us, isn’t it? Our best? For what it’s worth I think you make a fine Shield of Safrin. The Fae respect you, too.”
Because like and respect were different, and after seeing her with Jyoti, the fox knew the latter would come easily to the Fae. Giving Amalia a roguish bow, Ianto finally turned to head away from the Spire. ”We will speak again soon, I’m sure!” he called over his shoulder, a vanishing smudge in a world of white. ”Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll be great!”
