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!
“I’m very hesitant to load both unicorns, Amalia’s healing staff and Cera over there, and then leave the Temple with just you and Phoebe. Many Naturals know basic first aid, how to set bones, sew someone up. It will be ok.” Plus Wessex knows Cera and knows she can rely on him. It’s selfish, but she wants the young wolf with her in case shit goes tits up.
She listens and absorbs, nodding as Deimos reveals he’s Attuned - no, a hybrid now, cause he still made the map - and smiles slightly. That must be fun for them. And of course, there’s Ronin’s astral projection, which she did forget about. “So communication isn’t as dismal as we thought. Good.” That doesn’t fix the distance problem, but at least they won’t be in the dark about what’s going on at the other place. They just won’t be able to do anything about it unless it’s at great risk to themselves.
“Mmmm. I do not expect it to be easy,” she says with a grimace, though whether it’s to the obvious difficulty of capturing Roana or to leaving her triplets with Phoebe is another matter entirely. She doesn’t trust the midwife - not with the children and not with her relative. “I know its probably the best option, but I don’t trust Phoebe with the kids." Because giving anyone a reason to hate her more, and then have to see her every day for a week is just... stupid. Unavoidable in this context, but also stupid. "Or near Roana. So that presents a problem. Ideally, I’d ask Remi and Ronin to put her in the Guildhall. Lock her in a room somewhere. There isn’t a place to secure her in the Temple, unless we use an exam room, and again - that’s in the Infirmary. There’s the store room of the Rathskellar… but either way we need a guard. If we do end up with Roana at the Temple, I'd say take the kids to the Guildhall.” The Queen’s arms cross, a very discontent look on her face.
She shakes her head, takes out a piece of paper and begins to draw up the orders, keeping it short and sweet, but listing the reasons as: threatening an entire race and also threatening a member of the community. The irony isn’t lost on her. She’s sure it won’t be lost on others and someone will snark about it. “We could always leave her in the Prison with enough food and water for the week. Lock the door from the outside. Prep it the same way,” she says, handing the completed order back to Deimos.
It would be a cruel week, but Wessex isn’t feeling all that nice towards Roana right now. And if only certain people didn't have annoying little consciences.
Moving on from the more rankling, exasperating topics, notes about communication were in order: and only because Loren had asked, did Deimos share his experience with the King’s abilities, opting to leave his ignorance of healing capabilities and his entire inexperience with the whole notions of assuaging, mending, or tending wounds aside. “Ronin used his astral projection while we were in the Spire. He could move, see, and direct us, but did not seem to come to harm.” As much as he could’ve been, considering he’d been infected with that damned blight; but without him, the Sword wasn’t certain how triumphant or successful they might’ve been – and even then, it was to destroy plants they believed were the cause of the disease; too little, too late, in their ignorance. He wouldn’t speak for the rest of it – whether or not Ronin would even want to be involved in any sense of communication, if he’d yearn to project himself between Temple and Monster Hunter’s Guild, if it was even a safe notion or task.
Roana was seemed to be as difficult a topic as the procession and proceedings of LongNight. The kids were an issue, Roana’s proximity to them was an issue, where to even put her was an issue. Triplets running around the Guild Hall at all hours, loud, potentially obnoxious, wasn’t an ideal situation either, and he pressed an inward sigh at the complications surrounding the impending arrest. After all the nuances and notions, he wasn’t even entirely certain where Wessex wanted to place any of them. In the end, it sounded like the prison – cold, stark, and left to her own devices for LongNight. “All right,” he accepted, the terms, the conditions, and the warrant, his gaze flickering to the words, allowing ink to dry before folding it up and holding it in his hands, intending to place it within his coat and furs upon retrieval. Something about the whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth – the bridge of the unknown, the impending ferocity of Roana, and the enigmatic predilections of why calculating, coaxing, through his brain. Because of the blight? Or something more devious, more sinister? Orders were orders, and he’d follow them, but it didn’t mean he was without Machiavellian tendencies, or intending to mull over the various directions this task would entail. Even if the warrior came quietly, there were a whole host of other potential trials and tribulations. “I will ask Remi about accommodations for the children.” And if not, then maybe they would have to find an alternative route, and give them to Phoebe.
Loren wasn’t going to fight Wessex on the distribution of healers. And he was glad to hear that Ronin might be capable of communicating between locations; even if the summoner didn’t want to speak to the king, just knowing they could get in touch in case of emergencies would be helpful, though they should still probably test it. However, as Deimos and the queen talked about what do with Roana’s children, and the ex-captain herself, the Launceleyn paused in his note-taking. A spark of anger had kindled within him, and for the first time this whole meeting an expression crossed his face.
It wasn’t a pretty one.
The queen probably should’ve predicted his reaction to her comments, and if she hadn’t, well, she wasn’t nearly as wise or as competent as he’d thought. ”The children are innocent. We should do what is best for them, not what is most convenient for us.” His words came out short and clipped, and he stared at the queen, an unforgiving look in his eyes. He had one line that he’d asked her not to cross, and she’d already broken that promise once in the past: don’t threaten or harm children. And now she was proving just a little too eager and willing to peek over that cliff and dip a toe in those dangerous waters again, and the Launceleyn wasn’t in the mood for her political considerations or her concerns.
There was a right thing to do here, and who fucking cared if it was the harder course. ”We’re already ripping them away from their mother. Let’s not rip them away from their aunt as well. We can always build a more secure jail regardless of where Roana ends up if we absolutely have to.” Wessex was worried about Phoebe’s reaction, but maybe, just maybe she should’ve been a bit more worried about the summoner’s, because if she persisted in taking the easy course at the expense of innocents, especially children, he would do what he thought was necessary. Too fucking bad about his annoying little conscience. At least he had one. And he'd given her a fair warning about where he stood.
As for putting the ex-captain in actual jail, that was probably a joke. However, Loren didn’t think it was a funny one, and he wasn’t willing to take that chance. ”If you want to make a martyr out of her or make it harder to make a case against her in the end, sure, put her in prison. But I’m not going to help you arrest her if that’s the plan. Both because I think it's morally wrong and because it’s just going to breed even more resentment.” Turns out his pesky code was rearing its ugly head again. Maybe he sucked as a soldier because he wouldn’t just follow the queen’s orders blindly, but if she was going to keep giving out such dumb orders he’d be a fool to go down with her. They were trying to ease tensions between the Ascended and the rest of the Hollowed Grounds, and leaving Roana to fend for herself during LongNight at the direct orders of the Ascended Queen would have the complete opposite effect, and that wasn’t even getting into the possibility of her death. Even if the ethical concerns didn’t move Wessex, maybe the practical ones would.
10-03-2019, 01:41 AM (This post was last modified: 10-03-2019, 03:07 AM by Wessex.)
WESSEX
the wraith
It seems Wessex has made a critical error. Loren.
“Have I said anything about harming them?” She challenges back lightly, crossing her hands over her chest and standing her ground. An eyebrow raises, fixing the Launceleyn with a cold stare. Fuck his face. “I have more to worry about than children, Loren. I have a thousand other people to care for.”
And here is the crux of the problem - that the man does not consider other perspectives. He acts. He says. He feels. He assumes.
“Do you know how hard it is to control kids during LongNight? Let alone three energetic boys? Have you considered that Phoebe may not be able to handle it - that perhaps Remi and Ronin and Amalia and whomever else goes to the Guildhall might be better suited to keeping them calm and quiet? I know I’m not. Will Jace and Beatrix be with you? Can you control them?” The question is pointed, harsh, and and meant to hurt. Top put him in his place. If he can’t control his own relatives, what would they do with three more? “The amount of magic in that Guildhall should be enough to keep them thoroughly occupied.”
She collects the map and turns to the walls, looking for the best place to put such a beautiful specimen. It should be in full view, but easy to take down when needed. Hmmm…. With her back to Loren, Wessex makes a final couple of comments.
“Since you clearly don’t trust me, trust in Remi and Ronin.” He seemed to favor the Outlanders anyway, questioning the Natural Queen at every turn whilst the King gets blind faith. She sees how it is. Oh, she sees how it is.
“And I’m putting you in charge of Roana, because you’re so morally concerned about my musings on what to do, rather than the morality of someone who's perfectly willing to kill a whole race of people." She had never said she was going to put Roana in the prison. Just thought about it aloud in an effort to talk through the complicated nature of it. So his concern is premature and accusatory - again. If only that concern extended to the Ascended. "So. Now you can make all the decisions. And you can be personally responsible if something goes wrong.” Turning around, Wessex smiles sweetly at the Launceleyn. He asked for it, more, or less.
Had the Sword closed his eyes, he might’ve imagined he was in the midst of another Aurora Basin meeting, calm composure blistered away from the might, ferocity, and vehemence in bouts of vitriol within a matter of moments. It was an uncomfortable weight then and still now, why he was adverse to political stages and diplomatic matters, most of the time he was incapable of committing to anything with great negotiations or dialogue. These moments had already been a test, and he’d held his own for a time – until he was out of his element again, and forced to witness, to watch, to listen to a chord of ferocity sprung from Loren and then Wessex. There was a series of backdrops and nuances he didn’t know though – about connections between Loren and Roana (perhaps they were from the same lands, brought over in those series of cycles and portal openings) – sizzling and simmering along the intertwining of malice, menace, and challenges. He had less of a notion of entertaining three boys running rampant along the Guildhall, especially when they were supposed to be quiet (which made him wonder what they’d done the last LongNight), but perhaps someone else would fill that void.
Then – well, it might not have mattered anymore, because Wessex delegated the entire orchestration to Loren.
The General had no way of making the strained instances any better, no ability to lessen the strain – not assembled for this sensation of chaos, while he’d willingly maneuver and motion along the battlefield for any comrade, these predilections and considerations were not his opus, his oeuvre, his masterpiece. They were discomforting instead, sticking to his skin and ribs as a haze of memories, of varnished, lacquered enamel, of bestial, barbaric overtures snapped and chiseled their way into the foundations. “I will still assist,” ensuring his role was not fleeting either – he’d attempt to lend his strength and tactics to whatever might ensue. “Would the Manor be sufficient for them?” Curiosity only; plucking away and salvaging at what he could of the damned conversation.
Loren knew that the best defense was a good offense as well as Wessex did. Thankfully, Deimos seemed not to want to take sides in this argument. Unfortunately for the queen, the summoner wasn’t intimidated by her in the slightest, nor was he going to back down from the only line he’d drawn in the sand. ”Ripping children away from their mother is harming them, yes. In this particular case, it’s necessary. Ripping them away from their aunt, however, is cruel, and not necessary, just expedient.” As always, anger chilled the Launceleyn, ice seeping into his core.
And then they stumbled into philosophy and morals and ethics and he sat up a bit straighter, more than happy to have this debate. ”The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few then? And the ends justify the means? That’s one way to look at it, but I always preferred this one: the true measure of a ruler is how they treat the least and weakest of their people.” That meant the children, the sick, the weak, and infirm, all of whom deserved protection.
As the queen started debating in earnest, Loren remained unmoved. She’d wanted this gig, and if she was just now discovering that heavy was the head that wore the crown, that was her problem, not his. Without saying a word, he summoned an adorable puppy and an even more adorable kitten, which he ordered to begin frolicking with one another. ”There will be plenty of magic at the Temple to delight them if that’s what you’re really worried about. And Beatrix and Jace will be with me, and they will behave themselves, never fear.” But not because the summoner would control his relatives, but because they trusted him and he trusted them to do what they needed to survive. The Launceleyns were good at that. ”And an attack on my person is just a sign of a weak argument.” As she turned away to hang up the map, he dismissed his creatures.
Well, she might’ve thought bringing up Remi and Ronin—for the second time in this exchange, no less—would placate him, but she clearly didn’t know what was going on among her own subjects and Loren wasn’t in the mood to enlighten her. ”I don’t trust them.” It came out flatly. ”Moreover, they’re not here, which means they’ve abdicated any right to be involved in this decision-making process.” It would be impossible for the king to rule if he couldn’t be bothered to show up the most important meeting in the Hollowed Grounds; recovering from the blight or not, Ronin should’ve been there.
So he had no choice but to put his trust in Wessex. Or no one, if she kept pushing his boundaries.
However, if she thought she was giving him a punishment by putting him in charge of Roana, well, she was sorely mistaken. First the Launceleyn nodded in acknowledgment of the general’s offer of assistance. ”Thank you.” Granted, Deimos still had the writ of arrest, so Loren would need to grab that at some point, or follow the other man. At that moment, though, the Launceleyn was more worried about the queen. ”I apologize for not making this clear earlier. What Roana is doing is evil. There is no doubt about that.” The fact that it even needed to be spelled out was laughable to him. ”But that doesn’t absolve us of the need to enact justice, not vengeance.” There was a clear line, at least to him. ”And I would be happy to take personal responsibility for keeping Roana imprisoned during LongNight.” Now maybe Wessex would stop this dumb pissing contest and they could move on and get some actual work done.
Loren is one man and Wessex doesn't need him. Would he be useful? Absolutely. But need? No. He overestimates his worth to her (and to others) after LongNight. He underestimates the Wraith because she's been somewhat accommodating. No more.
So most of what Loren says is ignored. If they're going to tell her to make decisions, they'll (cumulatively, all of Caido) will have to accept them or remove the responsibility. That's the way it works. None of this "I accept it if I like it and it aligns with my personal feelings" bullshit.
She directs some to the General. "Sorry Deimos. Didn't mean to imply that you aren't needed. Loren's responsibility begins with LongNight. Until then, she can stay in the Prison with daily supervised visitation with her children. An attentive guard must be there at all times. Phoebe can care for the kids until LongNight." She won't put it past Roana to try something via her sons.
Turning to Loren again, Wessex throws him a bone. “Which means that you have until then to come up with a plan that convinces me it’s ok to have the whole family in one area. Otherwise the boys go for a weeklong Sleepover at the Guildhall.” Pausing, Wessex considers what she knows of the woman, which is remarkably little, which is also by choice. They avoid each other. “Make sure you take everything off her. No weapons. No jewelry. Melita has that fancy bracelet bow - I don’t want to take any chances.” Her final look to the two men begets an unspoken question.Anything else?
More slashing words and knives embedded in discourse, his eyes glancing back and forth as each individual refused to give in, tenacious, stubborn, and obstinate in their stances. He could appreciate the worth of grounds and pedestals to stand upon, hills they’d die on, but wasn’t certain of this subject being the mountain he’d holler from. Perhaps there were other things searing and simmering behind brewing convictions, maybe the Queen refused to back down out of principle, maybe Loren couldn’t fathom the layers and lacquer embedded between her reasons and motivations. The measure of a ruler remained an intriguing notion; mostly because he’d been one, done this time and time again, favored none of it except the plunge of his sword into an enemy’s, an adversary’s, frame. A threat upon his kingdom had always been something meant to be extinguished, meant to be decimated, demolished, and discarded without fanfare or regard. So his perception, his experiences, were drawn and quartered, but his responses silent, waiting for some other ax to fall.
He wasn’t ignored this time, an address likely to ensure his involvement was still required; he nodded, no diatribes necessary with quiet, silent acceptance. Guards would be found, children would be placed in their aunt’s trust and threshold until LongNight’s approach, and there were no weapons or jewelry left upon her. Deimos had already begun to calculate and machinate those nuances – aware of at least one that had an ability to thwart any of his invocations’ efforts. “Consider it done,” he surmised with another nod, jaw clenched, forged straight back into his indifferent haze – when he was anything but, surmising, meticulous, scrupulously detailed into the fold, turning to leave as they were dismissed, to follow through on convictions and vows.
Cool. Wessex was just going to ignore everything Loren said. Great leadership there: even if she disagreed and thought he was an idiot, even if she was sick and tired of outlanders questioning her, even if she thought he had an inflated sense of his own abilities, simply saying nothing to his concerns was a mark of weakness, not a sign of strength. Unfortunately, a weak ruler was better than no ruler at all. He hadn’t been here when she was put in charge, and if he had been...well everything would be different, and there was no use crying over spilled milk.
If she wasn’t going to talk to him, he wasn’t going to talk to her. That seemed fair. Her dismissal was clear enough, so when Deimos stood, the summoner tucked away his notes and belongings and stood as well. Saluting both of them—just because he’d disagreed with them and they were mad at him didn’t mean he was going to stop acting professionally at least not yet—he walked out without another word. He’d post their decision on the Notice Board. And when the time came, he’d help the general bring Roana in.
