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!
10-02-2019, 07:26 PM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2019, 07:26 PM by Loren.)
Love mends even the broken parts
To no one’s surprise, least of all his, Loren had been avoiding people. There’d been everything with Remi, which ended with a fucking note (the tear stains had been an oh so nice touch), as if that would somehow make everything okay or give the summoner any sense of closure. News flash: it didn't. And then the alchemist hadn't even been able to stay away, showing up at the efforts to help secure the Temple for LongNight.
On top of that there was the incident with the Fae—which he’d admitted was his own fault—that had resulted in his ban from the Sidhe Village. While he hadn’t exactly been planning to go there, and he still felt guilty for his actions that day, it stung. Then there had been the snow creature: he’d been attacked, by a god, fucking Ludo no less, when words would’ve sufficed. Even the ministrations of Frey, which had almost been enough to let Loren have a little bit of hope and peace of mind, had been shattered to pieces by that day. And that wasn’t even beginning to get into the whole mess with his family.
Plus there was the seemingly never ending preparations for LongNight that just got more complicated and convoluted the more time they spent on them. And everyone had differing opinions. The one thing they all seemed to agree on was that they disapproved of how he was handling everything.
So, yes, it was no wonder that he wanted nothing more than to be alone for a little bit. And for once, he got his wish. No one had come to find him, no one had checked in on him to see how he was doing. None of the many people in the Manor had made an appearance, at least not a deliberate one, and none of the many people he knew in the Hollowed Grounds had bothered to seek him out, even for his skills.
Good.
He wrapped his loneliness around himself like a cloak; where once it had bothered him, now he embraced it. So what if people hated him, whispered about him behind his back. He’d tried so hard to do the right thing, and be good, and had been rebuffed at every turn. Time for him to take some time and just do what he wanted to, he decided. And if that made him selfish and evil, well, at least there was precedent for that among the Launceleyns.
Today, though, he just wanted to do something familiar. Which is why he was in the Atheneum, golem trailing behind him with an armful of scrolls and books. They needed reshelving, and while this was obviously not a priority, it was soothing. And he needed all the calm he could gather before he was shut away for LongNight. Otherwise, he might lose his damn mind. Again. And this time he didn’t know what he might do.
But he knew it would be bad, and even now he was trying to make sure that when he inevitably exploded, he'd hurt as few people as possible.
Once upon a time, in this world as in another, Remi had searched for Loren in libraries. Once, knowing the summoner was gone, still the alchemist had thought he'd seen fleeting glimpses of him amidst the aisles; long fingers re-shelving books, blue eyes scouring over pale pages. Now the alchemist hoped those ghosts would keep themselves distracted long enough that he might find what he was after and depart.
And so it was that as Remi heaved open the atheneum doors and shoved them closed quickly to keep the chill out, that he kept his eyes low to the ground; not looking, not seeing. Unwrapping the thick forest-green scarf from around his neck and shaking loose the snow from his curls, he proceeded towards an area of the library primarily to do with magic.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Loren heard the doors open, and he felt his jaw clench. Apparently, he’d relaxed his guard too soon. Well, seeing as his little sanctum had been breached, it was probably time to go. However, he could at least put away the last of the scrolls; just because some idiot had walked into the lion’s den didn’t mean he needed to stop what he was doing. Besides, the Atheneum was big. The chances of the summoner actually running into the intruder were slim.
Of course, he had just finished thinking that when he walked around the corner of the shelves that led into the section on magic and saw Remi. Saw the gossipy alchemist. Saw the man who’d promised to stay away, to leave things be, to give the Launceleyn time and space. Well, either this was one of those funny little coincidences the gods liked to put the summoner through, or Remi had come to seek out Loren specifically. However, he would assume the former until he learned otherwise. Because if it was the latter, well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. But he knew it wouldn't be pretty.
The alchemist might be a bit surprised at how much the Launceleyn had changed in such a short time. Most of it was attitude. Though he was still painfully thin—probably dangerously so, if he was being honest with himself, which he was—instead of looking gaunt, he looked lean and sharp. He accentuated that with form-fitting black clothes and eyes as cold as the ice he felt flowing through his veins. ”I was just leaving.” His voice, when he spoke, was short and clipped, and he spun on his heel without a backwards glance. No doubt the other man wanted privacy. Well, he'd taken everything else away from the summoner. It should be no surprise Remi would keep taking and taking and taking until Loren was completely bereft.
That thought didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.
He knew he wasn't alone in the Atheneum, but nor had he expected to be. Certainly many of the Loreseekers would be about, not that Remi wanted to explain what it was he was looking for here, or why. Had he known about the conversation which had occurred between Phoebe and Loren, would he have abandoned his book-search all together? Possibly. As it was though, he didn't, thinking that perhaps even if Loren was here, that Remi would just give him as wide a berth as possible and try not to let his feathers reveal his dismay.
Which of course didn't happen at all. The sound of Loren's voice made the alchemist flinch and freeze, feathers ruffling through his curls as his eyes remained locked on the books in front of him. fingers half-outstretched. Hazarding a wary glance as Loren stormed off, Remi's lips opened to perhaps say something or call out after him—with a plea or an apology—but the words were locked behind lips that seemed incapable of anything other than trembling slightly. Having forgotten entirely about what he was doing, the book he'd been slowly pulling out fell to the floor with such a clatter the alchemist thought perhaps the entire Grounds had heard it. It wasn't actually that loud, but given how singularly focused on the departing black silhouette, it sent his heart hammering at a distracting pace.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
The feathers in the alchemist’s hair or the clatter of a book falling to the ground were none of the Launceleyn’s concern. While both would have horrified him not so long ago, now he just felt a curl of quiet and cold satisfaction at the signs of the other man’s obvious distress. Nor did the summoner respond to the almost overwhelming silence that stemmed from Remi. Loren thought they’d done and said more than enough, and it was good to see the alchemist at a loss for words. Maybe the sight of the Launceleyn would teach the other man to keep his mouth shut. All Loren did was walk away, a shadow and nothing more.
However, all calm had been shattered by this development. So as the summoner emerged into the main area of the library, he had the golem dump the scrolls on a nearby table, then dismissed it. Next, he made his way to where he had stowed his cloak, which was as black as the rest of his ensemble. He wrapped it around himself and turned to go. There was nothing left for him here.
Once, holding back his emotions was as natural for Remi as flying (and had manifested at roughly the same time in his youth). Restraint was easily enough done and though he didn't remember it, he'd practiced it for months with Loren with relative success.
Now though, in a world where he'd been told he didn't have to hide who he was, that he could make his own choices, he found the once formidable walls of his self-control reduced to rubble. He wanted to go after Loren, to apologize and explain. To tell him how he felt as he had done with Phoebe. Not to distance himself as the midwife had counciled and as the alchemist had promised.
But was that what Remi was now? A breaker of hearts and his word?
Hastily reaching down to recover the book (having broken its spine during the fall), the alchemist bristled at the sound of the golem depositing what it was carrying on the table, before watching Loren bundle himself to depart.
If he was ready to talk, he would have stayed, Remi tried to remind himself. And while he knew that to be true, that wasn't what made his feathers spread. Loren didn't look hurt or wounded, the way Remi did, and while the two men obviously had very different coping mechanisms, this icy reaction from the Launceleyn made the alchemist wonder if he'd ever be ready to talk. If there would ever again be a time he stayed.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Maybe there’d be a time when Loren stayed. Maybe there wouldn’t be.
But that time was not today.
He made his way towards the doors that led to the outside world, his steps more a predatory stalk than anything else. Remi had looked stricken, that much true. But he hadn’t looked apologetic. Hadn’t looked sorry. Hadn't looked contrite, or any of the things he should've. He had just looked pained. That was funny, though, considering how he should have worked through his emotions with Ronin and Phoebe by now, all those nice people who congregated around Remi like moths to a flame.
The Launceleyn was the only one who’d been burned by it, and so he’d made himself into ice. It had swept away the hurt in its wake. Remi had no right to look wounded, not when it was self-inflicted and he had all the tools and people he needed to heal it. So as the summoner slammed open the door and then flipped up his fur-lined hood against the chill air and the snow, he also welcomed the heart of Deepfrost, recognized it as a kindred spirit, embraced it with his entire being, and allowed it to coil around him, settling deeper into his soul.
Maybe he had no right to feel as he did—not that Loren knew the full story—but he'd always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse. Had he known though that his note had had the opposite effect, that his expression had only incited bitter feelings in the summoner, he might not have stayed quiet. In fact, there was no way he'd be able to. As it was Remi was hopelessly torn between what he wanted, what he needed, and what he'd promised. And so as Loren slammed open the door, the alchemist moved from behind the bookshelf, seeing with eyes far too clear, the desperately dark silhouette against the blinding white.
Biting the inside of his lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood and make himself wince, Remi forced himself with all the self-restrain he had, to remain where he was.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
