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!
09-18-2019, 07:47 PM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2019, 07:48 PM by Clemente.)
Clemente
It’s not exactly...graceful, how Clem ends up in Caido.
In fact he’s not sure what a portal is at all when it happens. All he cares about is his next meal, trying to satisfy the hunger that burns in his throat and stomach. He’s ducking past the half-nailed metal siding into his warehouse “home” when the entire world goes sideways. It’s entirely unpleasant, gorge rising in his throat as he feels his atoms seemingly scatter and recompress, only to end up flat on his back groaning. It takes a while to shake the vertigo, blinking his eyes open slowly and finding the night sky twinkling back at him.
Which is concerning to say the least because seconds ago it had been early morning.
Clemente leaps to his feet, stumbling uncertainly on limbs that have less sensitivity than he’s used to. He’s hyperventilating, he’s sure of it, and yet the air seems stale and useless in his lungs. Where is he? Where is he? Whereishewhereishewhereis -
He’s not proud of it, but he begins to cry.
The first thing he does is stumble backwards into the nearest tree, holding his ratty clothes tight to his skinny frame. He...doesn’t feel hungry anymore, but the panic erases all potential realization of this. Clem looks around wildly, finding his vision is at least the same, the shadows receding and the light amplified as it always is past twilight. But this land isn’t his. He hasn’t even seen the forest before. Clem is a city kid, a gutter rat, and this is not home.
The tears don’t register, and he’s too scared to call for help. It’s ingrained in his blood not to, because help either meant the opposite, or having to escape social services. Yeah they had been pretty damn civilized for bloodsuckers. Not that it made Clemente’s life much easier once his mother had overdosed. But there’s nothing to do about it now, and his boyish voice rises into a shriek of panic as he calls out into the darkness.
Once again she’s drawn near the Spire — if for no other reason than to see the night sky, the way the moon drifts over the open starry night beyond. She’s quiet on her feet, nearly silent aside from the crunch of snow. But there’s no plumes of breath that cloud before her. She doesn’t need to breathe. And so it makes it easier to continue on, to explore and visit, and enjoy despite the uncertainty that surrounds everything else — those with the blight, the blight itself. She’s come to see if the roses have been crushed beneath blighted hands, too, to check and do her due diligence.
But then she hears a boyish shriek in the night — and gods does he sound young. And her feet move her of their own volition, racing toward the sound like a leopard to her cub. While the Penumbra can’t have children, she still adores them, still fits into that motherly part of herself. And she can’t just leave a boy out in the cold to freeze to death.
When she finally spots him, she slides a bit in the snow as she comes to a stop. “Hey! Hey, it’s okay.” Her hands are held up, keeping herself as little of a threat as possible. “You’re in Caido.” She answers him softly, gently, sweetly… Until her brows furrow and she gets a good look at the boy. “Are you cold?”
Time goes just as sideways as he slides down the tree bark, unfeeling if it scrapes his skin. He buries his head in his knees, folding his gangly arms over both and pressing, trying to squeeze the panic out of himself. It only increases at the sound of hurried footsteps, and though he knows he called out for help, Clem can’t help but shrink further into himself even as he looks up over one knee at the swiftly approaching form.
She’s...pretty. Reminds him of Mom, with her dark hair and brilliant eyes. But she is far more alive than Mom had ever been, and she approaches cautiously. He eyes her nonetheless, scared out of his mind. Clemente had spent so long memorizing his city, narrowly evading the clutches of death as he learned the harsh cruelties of the street. He can’t bear to relearn it in a new land, not one so completely different to his home. Not during winter.
The woman’s words barely register, and he blinks up at her. The shaking is from panic, not cold, though he can distantly tell that it is. Clem shakes his head jerkily, though her surprising appearance before him has his not-breaths slowing until his chest is still once more. ”N-No,” is all he can think to say, tone warbling but trying to seem strong. She doesn’t seem the type to hurt him, to steal from him, but he can’t trust it. Not yet.
”How do I go home?” he begs, unfolding his long limbs and standing despite the trembling that still shakes his skin. Worries at his lip with his sharp canines, and tries to withhold the tears, though his cheeks are still damp with their telling remains.
He’s crying, she can tell that much. And her heart breaks for him. Her eyes scan him for any injury, though she cannot see what’s happening within him. The mental shift it must have been. And her hands drop to her sides when he finally responds, trembling and sad and heartbreaking. Concern laces her blue gaze, following along him as he makes to stand. And when he asks how he gets home, a small frown finds her face.
“You can’t go home yet… You came through a portal, like I did.” She says softly, hoping perhaps that telling him her own story would be enough to calm him slightly, though she doesn’t know if it’ll help or harm in comparison to realizing he can’t go home. Slowly, she edges forward toward him. “I’m Rexanna.” She tells him, as gently as she can, hoping it might help. But she notices the slightly elongated fangs along his lips, and she tries to give him a light fanged smile of her own. That he’s not alone here.
If he thought his world was sideways before, he was wrong. Can’t go home. Can’t go back. Clemente didn’t have a very deep attachment to his little warehouse, or his city, but it was all he knew. It was where he was born, where his mother had lived and died. What did he possibly have now? Clem leans his head back against the tree and tries not to cry any further, feeling a numbness spread in his chest. He’s a gutter child, an orphan. Nothing is permanent he has learned. Apparently not even worlds.
This is just another thing to force himself to move on from. To adapt to.
Her name breaks his reverie, and he glances up at her distrustfully, hands pulling habitually at his thin shirt. Her fangs draw his eye, and he relaxes, shoulders slumping with ill-concealed relief. This, at least, is the same. He has no reason to think that this world is any different than his own in that manner, so Clem assumes everyone is like them in that moment, and the world seems a little less dark.
”I...uh...I’m Clemente,” he offers softly, suddenly shy. Women had always been kinder, maternal, and he’d been as weak to them as they had been to him growing up. ”Is there a-anywhere I can go?” he asks helplessly. ”Anywhere with a roof, or somewhere with some decent scraps? Any homeless clinics I can stay at for a little?” Down to business, he needs to figure things out immediately and shelter is only marginally higher on his list than food. Did humans exist here? Donors? Programs? Clem was used to stealing to survive, he just needed information to get by.
She settles a bit as the information hits him, as he takes it in, in an almost sorrowful way. Did he miss his home unlike how she missed hers? It had to have been hard, sucked through from one place to another. At least with her, she was on the run, she had no other options. Was it different with him? She gnaws on her own lip slightly until he gives her his name, and she edges a small amount closer, airing all forms of warmth and comfort. The lighter part to her eclipse. “It’s nice to meet you Clemente.” She says softly, a small smile warm and welcoming.
But then he asks if there’s any homeless camps, and she shakes her head to him. “Not that I’m aware of.” She says softly, but all hope is not lost. “You can come with me, if you like. I have a home and spare bedrooms you could stay in.” It’s a soft mention, a soft suggestion in the hopes he might come with — despite his hesitancy. She wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t, but she has information of the world he might need to know, might want to know. “I could tell you about everything I know about here?”
Her smile makes his own twitch at his lips unbidden. He can’t help it, his mother used to say he had a face made for mischief and joy. ”Same to you,” he says awkwardly, feeling like his syntax is far too underdeveloped for her elegance, her smooth words and perfect dictation.
Instead he feels discomfort and fear tightening in his gut, and he ducks his head to try and avoid her seeing the emotions written plainly across his face. It’s frustrating. There’s so much to learn, to do, and he’s at the worst disadvantage he’s ever been in. Even when Clem had first been a fully-fledged orphan at fourteen he had at least known the lay of the land. Her offer makes his hackles rise, shoulders jutting up and arms crossing over his body as if to shield himself from her.
”I don’t hook anymore,” he hisses, but the warble of uncertainty is evident in his tone. Pale hazel eyes stare her down, but...she seems kind. Welcoming. And surely someone well off enough to have multiple bedrooms wouldn’t be in need of those kinds of favors from someone as pathetic as him? Not that it was necessarily sound logic, with the high-class rollers he’d seen picking up the girls on the streets. So he tentatively edges closer, trying to hold tight to his optimism. It had gotten him through many tough spots, perhaps it was time to lean on it now. Trust just a little.
”You....do you have beds?” The way he asks it is like asking if she has a golden fountain, something he has never really known even as a child. He’d always shared a lumpy, bare mattress with Mom and then a pile of blankets on the floor when her sweats and shakes would keep him from rest. ”Just for tonight,” he says firmly, if only to feel like he has a say in where his life is going. Whether ‘just tonight’ turns into ‘escape out the window if things go south’ or miraculously ‘stay another night’, he’ll just have to see.
It breaks her heart, the timid boy before her. But she fights through it, smiling to him as gently as she can. To show him they are the same, that their race is the same. And gods how they needed more in their ranks, if only to extend her family bigger. More to protect, sure, but more to love in the end. The Penumbra has more than enough love to share. Her smile grows a bit brighter at his comment in return to her own, until he grows sharper and firm when he tells her he doesn’t hook anymore.
She doesn’t know what he means, and her dark brows furrow together slightly as she tilts her head. “I don’t know what that means. But you’re safe here, with me and people like you and I. We’re called Ascended, here.” She tells him, equally as gently as before. But had she known what he had meant by the term, she would have had a further shattered heart. She knew what it was like to do that. She had spent quite some time in that very same position. At least now, she has a husband and a wonderful life thus far. She can only hope he gets the same. And as for the tidbit of their race, well, there would be plenty of time to fill in the blanks.
So she drifts from him slightly to give him space, gesturing with a pale hand dressed in dark furs and leather toward the path to her home, when she falters and pauses when he asks if she has beds. Sapphire eyes drift back to him with a nod and a smile. “I have a few beds, actually. You can have your pick.” She assures him. They don’t need to sleep, but the normalcy of it and reading their systems has become a bit of a norm for her. And besides; she much prefers the simple intimacy it brings between the two of them. “It’s an old home of mine, before I married. It’s mostly empty now but there’s plenty of space.” She offers, beginning to walk.
Her confusion makes him wrong-footed, narrowing his pale eyes at her as if to force the truth from her. Surely she knows? But he’s not bothered by having to spell it out for her at least. His mouth had said - and done - far worse things. ”Means I ain’t havin’ sex with ya, even if it means I get a roof over my head.” Currency didn’t matter much to Clem, not when buying things legally always raised more suspicions and unwanted attention than stealing or haggling.
Still, her words make him pause. Safe. A laughable notion, where he’s from. But...he isn’t there anymore. And she calls him - them - Ascended. As if they need a title. ”Why do we need to be called something? It’s just who we are,” he mumbles, clearly confused and perhaps a tad frustrated at the idea of needing to be unnecessarily labelled. Even so, as she moves aside Clem steps forward to fill the space. Certain in his body even if he’s uncertain of his chaperone. There are few changes to his body that he can perceive, and certainly nothing that raises alarm bells just yet.
The idea of a bed is enough to cajole him into movement, and he trails faithfully behind her, a spark returning to his eyes at having a goal in mind. "You’re married?” he inquires, curiosity gnawing like a particularly hungry puppy at his heel. ”Is your partner gonna be mad I’m there?” Clemente’s voice drops to a quiet, self-conscious murmur. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time after all.
He begins to explain what it means and she pauses abruptly, brows inching further together at the realization. And she looks back to him, seeing that young boyish face, and a small amount of sorrow leaks within her. “No, there won’t be any of that I can assure you.” She tells him a bit firmly. Not like she would want to, anyway, how old even is he? But in fairness, how old had she been when she started it all, too?
She passes over it as he asks why they have to have a title, and she shakes her head of the sadness that has filled her gut. “Because there are many others who are different here. Ones with magic, ones who can shift into different creatures, and ones whom are relatively normal in comparison.” She explains, lifting a hand to spark a tiny firework as if to show him. “I’m both, Ascended and Abandoned. Abandoneds are the ones that can wield magic.” She hopes it helps but she’s unsure. Instead, she continues to walk onto the path with the snow, and he trails after her and pipes up his questions.
“I am! And no, he won’t be. He’s Ascended like us, but a painter. Spends many nights painting and drawing. We’re going to my other home, so that way you can have some quiet while you adjust.” She says softly, trailing back a small amount to look back at him and give him an encouraging smile.
Her assurances only prompt a little grunt from his mouth, toying with his lip with his fangs once more. Uncertainty is clear on his expressive face, but Clem nods nonetheless. He doesn't really have a choice. He needs somewhere to stay at least for the night while he gets his bearings, makes a plan. He's not particularly strong, but he's fast. If she tries anything he can be gone within moments. It's the only comfort he has walking into what he feels is a trap.
It's even more frustrating to know that this world isn't even remotely similar to his own. Different races? Like...skin color? But that doesn't make any sense. And while minor magic was prevalent in his homeland, the idea of shifting into an animal seems preposterous. He narrows his eyes at her, mouth twitching in preparation to call her out on her lies when her hand lifts. Clem flinches away from the sparks that emit from her palm, though he stares at them rapturously. Awed. "Woah," he murmurs, reluctant to show that he's impressed. But Clemente refocuses quickly enough, because in his homeland there were only his kind and humans. "How many Ascended are there? There's only us and humans at home," trails off weakly, reluctant to give information but finding as time goes on that Rexanna is slowly proving herself neutral - if not trustworthy.
Clemente hums softly as she speaks about her partner, glad that he won't have to meet him. Hopefully never. Men, especially adults, were the worst perpetrators of violence. It wasn't worth sticking around them.
A noise from the woods causes Clem to jolt, leaping towards Rexanna and fumbling for her hand instinctively, the way he does with the older street girls who watch out for him sometimes. "Is it safe?" he asks urgently, halfway hiding behind the woman as if he isn't much taller than her already. Clem barely even knows how to read, he certainly has no idea what sort of monsters lurk in forests like these.
He doesn’t comment on the initial response of her own, but she doesn’t blame him. Instead, she nods to him regardless, walking along the path and explaining as she goes, when his questions rise and fall. He’s Ascended, and he needs to know what they’re dealing with – but after… After they adjust and everything gets settled. She will protect him until then. And when she pauses just enough to show him her magic, his awestruck look makes a small smile grow on her own before she continues walking.
At his question, though, she pauses slightly. “We are few and far between.” She says softly, almost sadly. Not like it really matters, there isn’t a war so far that she’s aware of. And frankly in the midst of it all, her and Clem are probably the least likely of all to get shot down. Not that it settles her nerves any. Instead, she glances over to him again. “There are many more of the others than us. So we need to stick together.” She explains, giving him an encouraging smile.
But he hears a noise and jumps toward her, and she instinctively takes the hand he seeks her own with, and stands before her – eyes filtering through the dark with ease, before she spots a lone Luxere moving through the woods. She relaxes enough, squeezes his hand gently, before smiling softly to him. “That’s a Luxere. They’re deer with glowing antlers that ward away darkness.” She says softly, before letting her hand linger in his if he wishes it to. “We’re almost to the Settlement, we’ll get you settled in. Everything’s going to be okay, Clemente.” She says softly.
It's not exactly devastating to hear that there are only a handful of Ascended where once Clemente had seen thousands living their lives in a single city, but it's definitely disorienting. Perhaps lonely, if Clem cared about companionship or connection. He'd lived alone for so long. And a ghost of a mother didn't count, the years when her vapid gaze would slide over him like he wasn't there at all. Still he shrugs a shoulder, staring down at his scuffed shoes held together with tape and willpower. "Jus' gotta start havin' kids I guess," he mutters, used to a world where his kind still had functioning organs running on borrowed blood, where biological offspring were as common as human children.
But he glances up at Rexanna, a tiny smile on his lips. Stick together. Yeah, he can do that. It's an easier sentence to swallow, reminiscent of the ones exchanged with the street girls. Symbiotic relationship. Not that Clem has much to offer exactly, but it's something.
Even less to offer really when he cowers behind her, clinging to her hand and trying to make himself smaller. His eyes seek out the 'luxere' as she calls it, but it still seems daunting. Feral cats, dogs, and various birds are the only animals he's remotely used to. That thing certainly doesn't fit the bill. "Darkness is perfectly fine," he argues weakly, still clinging to her hand even once the luxere disappears from view. It's a weakness, one he can't afford, but physical contact that isn't violent is a rare gift. And she reminds him so much of his mom...he squeezes tighter and falls into step beside the smaller woman, shoulders hunched and eyes flickering uneasily. This day has sucked ass.
He mentions the idea of having kids and she frowns for a moment. Inhaling deeply, she glances back to him. “We can’t. Have kids, that is.” She says lightly, a frown finding her features momentarily, uncertain how to explain the changes to their bodies. But it’s very different, so strangely so that it took her weeks to get used to it. “Our bodies are different. I’ll help you figure it out when we get home.” She finally says before the Luxere spooks the boy.
He doesn’t seem relieved at her comment if it, finding she agrees well enough to the idea. And she’s glad for it, the sun would be deadly for him, and while she’s just met him, she doesn’t want to see that happen. Instead, that maternal instinct within her melts as he leaves his hand in hers and squeezes back. A quiet sign. But one nonetheless.
They round a corner and the lanterns and lights flicker in the near distance of the homes along the streets. She lets her sapphire gaze slide over to him with a small smile as they near her home, standing briefly outside by the porch. “This is it.” She says gently, waiting for the reaction before stepping toward the few stairs to her door, and opening it wide for him to enter first and explore.
