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!
It almost feels selfish to remain in her embrace, but selfishness often meant survival on the streets. Perhaps it's fair, then, to remain here in her arms. Soaking up the maternal love that pours from her, the memories of better days that are faded and aged in his mind, too young to properly recall them when they happened. It's the worst temptation to stay here, not just for now, but for as long as she'll have him. Joy was a rare commodity in his life, and often fleeting. Even if she disposed of him eventually, cast him away from her perfect family life, he would at least have this.
"She's even cooler then," he mumbles, laughter shaking his shoulders more out of habit than any air that would have left his lungs. Clem wants to meet her so badly, and yet he's still harboring the persistent fear that she will dislike him. That he will be a stain on their ranks, young and useless. She's a Queen, and one that came into the rank just by being a badass! What would she think of a street urchin like him? One that never made a name for himself? How could she look at him and not think that he should be better?
Clemente is distracted from his darkening thoughts at the display of magic, and he puffs his cheeks stubbornly at Rexanna when she reminds him that she has it. "You didn't say you had more than one!" What other tricks did she have up her sleeve? But when she reaches for him he can't help his stifled flinch, only for it to wash away in wonderment as his clothes suddenly change will still laying against his skin. Far sturdier than his threadbare outfit previously, and he can't help but lift a sleeve and rub it against his cheek, even though he can't really feel it. Eyes still wide and starry at the blatant display of power. "Thank you," he breathes, suddenly feeling shy and even further indebted to her.
So of course she decides to take it a step farther, drawing his gaze to her palm as she quite literally creates something from thin fucking air. At first he can't focus enough to figure out what it is, too baffled by the laws of physics breaking before his very eyes, but then her words draw him back down to his body and into the moment. His eyes begin to water again as she offers it to him, and he gives her his thin wrist in return, ignoring the tremble of his fingers. It's absolutely beautiful, and he's never really...received a gift before. "It's beautiful," his voice trembles, looking from the jewelry on his pale skin to Rexanna's piercing irises. "I'll never take it off," he vows, because thanking her again seems to fall so flat in comparison to how he feels. Emotions he can't possibly put into words. And she's right; he is sure to think of her every time the bracelet catches his eye.
Rexanna nods in her own small amount of enthusiasm at Clemente’s excitement about Wessex, imagining it’ll need to be stop number one for the boy. If for nothing else, but to also show him where their safe places are – in case anything happens, in case anything will happen. She’s got to make sure he has all the options at his disposal. She only hopes it never gets that far.
Giving him a slightly amused look, she leans forward toward him as he puffs his cheeks. “You never asked.” She jests with a smirk and a wink, settling back as she changes his clothes to become softer, cleaner, warmer. Easier to endure the winter – and of course, stylish. Because nothing Rexanna does isn’t stylish. And as he thanks her, she only nods to him before her next surprise takes the boy by surprise.
“I have many magics, actually.” She announces simply as he extends his thin wrist to her and she ties the little eclipse bracelet around it. Her sapphire eyes flicker up toward him. “I have heard people call me the Penumbra.” She says lightly, as thought the title is still cool in its own right – not as cool as the Wraith, but still descriptive and accurate to who Rexanna was. “It means the shadow of an eclipse.” She explains easily as she finishes tying the bracelet.
“So it’s a little piece of me you can take with you everywhere.” She murmurs softly, settling back and eyeing him briefly. Ascendeds didn’t need to sleep, but well… He’d probably like a chance to run the scans over his body, to see what had changed, to see how different he was now based off of how he’d come in. Giving him a slightly fanged smile, she tilts her head toward the stairs that lead to the second floor. “Do you want to see your room?”
The puffed cheeks only grow in size as she teases him, but his lips try desperately to curl in amusement. He won't give her the satisfaction, even though he's not seriously bothered by her playfulness. It's nice to just be playful, to tease and joke, and not sink into the depths of his worries about this entirely new life he has been dumped into. Clemente is sure that once he stops and thinks about it he'll have a good internal panic, but for now he can at least enjoy the ease of their back and forth conversation.
Her gentle way of handling the jewelry and his wrist shouldn't make him emotional, but it does. He has cried more in this one day than he has in years, and it's exhausting. But he focuses in on her words, the soft tone of her voice, and can't help how his eyes widen at her own title. "Holy crap that's so cool," he gushes, words slurred together in excitement. And then he grins shyly at the eclipse on his bracelet, feeling like he's been stuffed full of cotton candy and is about to burst at the seams.
Luckily Rexanna offers to show him his room, otherwise he'd do something like hug her. Except he does anyway, throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her tight in the way he hadn't returned her own embrace earlier. Over her shoulder where his cheek rests, he gazes at the bracelet and clings tighter to the Penumbra. It's a sign of belonging that he has never had. Nobody has ever wanted to tie themselves to him, much less by such a fancy title and name. "Thanks," he mumbles uselessly, feeling inadequate in every way.
Only then does he remove himself, standing quickly and making sure the blankets get put back in their proper place, too flustered and vulnerable to look Rexanna in the eyes. Then he nods his head jerkily at her question and waits for her to show him to his room, one hand already automatically rubbing against the charm on the bracelet, a soothing motion that helps calm his anxieties. My new lucky charm, he thinks to himself, and is glad that he no longer has the blood to blush.
Whether Clemente is having an internal crisis or not, Rexanna pretends to not notice. Instead, tying the bracelet onto his wrist and focusing her attention onto the teenager while he gushes for her title. And she gives him a gentle smile in response. Her hands withdraw from him, waiting to see if he’s interested in seeing his room, but pauses when he reaches out to hug her tight. His arms around her neck, the picture perfect hug she had wanted to give him from the start, added to it only by the story of his own hardship.
“You’re welcome.” She tells him gently, easily. Because it’s not a problem to her, and that she wants to do this for him.
She stands briefly before he does, noticing that he doesn’t meet her gaze, but she still feels warm despite it. This whole thing was a lot, and she doesn’t blame him for the silence, the awkwardness. That and he’s young too, that never really helped matters much in the long run, did it? So she leads him up to the second floor, toward one of the spare rooms that still had soft blankets in it, pillows, swaths of golds and blues mixed with reddish purples to look like a sunset of sorts.
And she lets him explore, lets him decide whether he wishes to stay with her or not. The room is his, now, after all. Whether he takes it or not.
