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.
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Sighing, Loren nodded in agreement. Then a huff of laughter escaped. ”Don’t sell yourself short. You’re stronger than you know.” Smiling gently at her, he took a sip of his wine. As Amalia grew angry, though, his eyes grew troubled and sad. ”I know that I have been blessed by the old gods, and that what The Voice has done is awful, truly awful. I’m not excusing her, or the Ascended.” He set his mug down and glanced away, voice sorrowful.
”But we don’t know who struck the first blow in this war, do we? And...she was trapped here for hundreds of years. You were stuck here for...what? Twenty? Twenty-five? Yet I imagine you yearn for freedom.” Still unable to look at the baker, he smiled, the edges sad. ”I know a little bit about what it’s like to be a prisoner. If that notice, the anonymous one, is to be believed, the old gods have a lot to answer for as well, though if it was the truth I wish the author would’ve stood by it. Regardless, I know that many would say connecting the world is admirable.” Finally, he looked up, eyes narrowed. ”The ends don't justify the means. But, maybe I can understand why.” So much so that he had to take a sip of his wine.
He nodded, this time thoughtfully, as she continued. However, he laughed at her suggestion. ”Me? No I definitely don't want the job.” It was obvious how incredulous he thought the idea was. ”A council would be best. But at this point I doubt you could get enough individuals to join to make it worth it, and even with two rulers it didn’t seem to work.” The corners of his lips quirked up. ”As for me, I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being humble or being a good listener, at least not right away. Nor do I think they’d be comfortable with another Launceleyn on the throne. Even if they were, I have no wish to rule.”
He was silent for a long while and he took a long drink from his cup. Then he stared into its depths again. ”But I have always tried to act in the service of others, however misguided my attempts might have been.” It was a quiet admission, barely more than a whisper.
The moment he says he is not excusing her Amalia's smile falters, sensing the unsaid but that lingers right behind his teeth. And it comes - oh, but it comes - leaving the girl suddenly faded, a hollow anger rising from the embers in her heart. He does not meet her gaze, perhaps, but her eyes never leave his face, her own expression growing harder as he continues to explain her history back to her, as though she were a foolish child and not a woman born into this war.
[Say.]"The Voice killed people, Loren," the girl says quietly, a flinty edge to her tone. "More than that- she corrupted hundreds. Thousands. The Spire Demon. The Long night monsters. The blight. The Prince. If she was a human she might be put to death for such a thing. As it is, she was imprisoned for hundreds of years, and the minute she was free she began to spread more death." Her black gaze doesn't leave him as she searches for a reaction. She knows what the Voice has done, and the Old Gods as well. He does not need to explain her history to her.
His declaration that he wants to serve softens her a little, dulls the righteous flame in her breast. "So have I," Amalia admits, smiling ruefully into her cup. "It's why I try to serve the gods. To help people. Though I'm better... better with them than with humans, I think."
Loren’s expression and tone remained gentle, though it gained a sympathetic edge. ”Yes. She has killed and corrupted.” Taking a deep breath, his voice remained quiet, though his words had gained a bit of an edge. "I'm not denying that. But can you honestly tell me that the old gods have not killed and corrupted as well?" Now it was his turn to search her features for any sign of her thoughts.
Lifting his mug, he took a sip of wine as they both moved on from the more fraught conversation. "I don't think you're bad with people at all." He smiled at her. However, it soon faltered. "Can I ask a question?" Taking another drink, he stared into its depths, eyes troubled. "As the Shield of Safrin, aren't you supposed to protect all people, even those you might hate or disagree with?" He spoke in something barely above a whisper.
"Who have they killed?" She knows that she should back down, give up- that she was not meant for fighting. Yet Amalia holds the summoner's gaze, fingers clenched around the mug. "Who have they corrupted? Can you name anyone? They didn't even kill the Voice- they let her live, and they gave their heralds to care for the people trapped because of her. Do you truly think she would do something like that, given a chance?" The Shield sighs and shakes her head. "When Ronin and I asked her about the blight she denied any knowledge. She doesn't care about anything but power, and the people that will help her get it."
His next question surprises the girl; she blinks at it, frowning slightly, unsure where he is going. "I promised Vi that I would protect life," Amalia agrees softly, "Or... or try, at least. And that... that I wouldn't cross the line. That I would not condone death to save a life." Human or animal, she will continue to try, though it feels like a battle she is destined to lose.
12-02-2019, 10:43 PM (This post was last modified: 12-02-2019, 10:44 PM by Loren.)
whatever comes, let it come
what stays, let it stay
Loren remained steady in the face of Amalia’s words. Indeed, he even smiled softly, though there was a sad edge to it. ”I personally don’t know of anyone they’ve killed. But they made the world, and death is a part of it, for good and for ill.” His voice was quiet, but firm. ”But they stole Remi’s memories and condemned him to be an Abandoned. Jigano was condemned as well. They forced Rexanna to speak only using innuendo, stealing part of her voice. There are others who they’ve harmed, both when they went to pray and those they’ve cursed.” Taking a sip of his wine, the summoner watched the baker carefully.
”I’m not saying The Voice is good. Far from it. And I’m not saying the old gods are not far preferable to the new ones.” He paused, his expression still neutral. ”But they’re not perfect.” And it was clear from his tone that he wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.
He sipped his wine again, then cupped the mug carefully between both hands. ”Aren’t The Voice and the Ascended alive?” Although his words were tentative and he tensed, he didn’t move from where he stood.
His tone and expression leave no room for arguing, and Amalia does not push the issue, does not counter with the good her gods have done. Pursing her lips and glances away, at last retreating, her soul not built for argument.
There is something in his careful tone that sets her further on edge; suddenly Amalia is reminded of conversations with Jigano, of the feeling that something is being said between the words that leave his lips. "Maybe," she replies slowly, her tone also cautious, her dark eyes bright. "It depends on how you define alive. They were originally made by Vi, but now they're.. mechanical, almost. And Safrin said the Voice takes their souls. So are they alive?"
She shrugs; it isn't a real answer but she's feeling restless and unhappy with the direction the conversation has taken. Sighing, she raised the wine to her lips and takes another sip. "What's your point, Loren?"
"What constitutes life? If it moves, speaks, thinks, can feel pain and loss, doesn't that make it alive? If it struggles to survive, isn't that life?" Loren sighed, then rubbed his eyes. ”I know they’ve done terrible things.” Raising his gaze, he met Amalia’s eyes, or at least tried to. ”But I’ve said and done some pretty terrible things too. And I’ve been offered more second chances than I can count.” His voice was still quiet, but it had gained a bit of a sad and weary edge.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, when he spoke next, the sorrow was there in full force. ”So I guess my point is, where's the line? If I'm deserving of second chances, why not others? If they're alive, at least in part, do you trust yourself to judge whether or not they're worthy of your protection?" His tone wasn't accusatory, just curious. "Because...I don't trust my own judgment, when it comes to the gods, or their actions, or their judgments. Any of the gods. And...I just can't have blind faith in them. Maybe it's because I'm from a world without gods, or maybe it's because they called me Abandoned through no fault of my own for most of my time here, or maybe it's just who I am."
Taking a long drink, he topped off his glass before he continued. "I'm not...I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess I just...came from a world where there was a war that seems pointless now. And I'm afraid that another one is shaping up." His tone was firm on that. "But I don't want that. I've seen what the horrors of war can do, what it can drive people too, even good people, and it can get much, much worse than this." His eyes had grown distant and fear had crept into his tone.
Her silence prevails through his sudden declaration, the girl listening intently as Loren speaks. It takes a level of self control not to bite back at certain things, to defend against the words so easily read as veiled critiques. Defensiveness, the need to always be right- it is a suit of armor easy to fall into. As easy as the guilt and anxiety she has worked so hard to overcome.
So instead she listens, willing herself to truly hear. Friendship, or something like it: this is what they're trying for, and he owes it to him to make herself open, to take the time and hear his words, just as she would want to be heard in turn. The pain of being cast out from one world, of being abandoned in a new, with conflict other than what he was born to... what must it be like?
She watches as Loren tops off his glass and waits for him to finish again. "I don't want war either," the Shield agrees, thinking darkly of Roana's attempt to cause just such a thing, of the justification the woman gave for taking countless lives. Slipping down so her head rests on her palms, elbows on the counter, Amalia looks up at Loren through dark eyes that are suddenly young. "I don't think the Ascended are all bad. Sam would never want to hurt anyone, and Rexanna is Kiada's mother, and Wessex- Wessex helped raise me. I... I love her." There's something hopeless in her expression, a fragile thing which threatens to break behind her earnest gaze.
"I wish that things could go back to how they were. Before... before. I wanted the world to open up so badly, but I never thought... I didn't know how complicated it would all become."
Loren stared down at the dark colored liquid, eyes tired and haunted. ”Maybe if enough of us feel this way, we can avoid a war.” However, his tone indicated just how little hope he held out for that possibility.
Taking a long drink, he lifted his gaze to Amalia. ”None of us are all good or all bad” His own eyes were as young as hers, but colored by years of abuse, both mental and magical. ”I am sorry, though. I know…” Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he took another sip of wine. ”I know what it’s like for those who raised you, those you loved, to betray the trust, the faith you had in them.” His voice was quiet and filled with a lifetime's worth of sorrow, more than the short years he’d lived. Taking a step forward, he reached out to try and lay a gentle hand on the baker’s shoulder.
”They can’t.” Again, his voice was soft and gentle, but his words were firm enough. ”But if we’re careful, we can make something better. Something that maybe works for everyone.” Now there was a hopeful tone in Loren’s voice, but it was the kind of hope one found when everything else had been stripped away.
The hand on her shoulder makes Amalia drop her head, a bittersweet smile fluttering over her lips. No, they can't go back to how things were, as much as she may wish it. And in many ways things are better now.
At least she isn't alone.
She places her own slender hand on top of Loren's, squeezing gently against his fingers before letting go. Stepping back gently from the counter, the baker shakes her head as though to clear it, rolling her shoulders as well. The smile that lights her face in genuine, if a little sad, her dark eyes still clouded with distant, unpleasant thoughts. "You still have to tell me about your LongNight. And what you have planned, now that Deepfrost is over. And... we have to eat." Gesturing to the rack behind her, the baker tilts her head. "What did you have in mind for dinner? Because I have.... bread. And bread. And, oh look! More bread."
Loren smiled as Amalia squeezed his hand, though his was as sad as hers. However, when she asked about his LongNight, he flushed a furious crimson and took a large gulp of the wine. ”It was uh, eventful.” His voice came out half-choked until he cleared it. ”How about yours?” Thankfully, she provided an out with the mention of plans and dinner and he flashed a grateful look at her.
Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged. ”Bread sounds great to me.” At this point, he just needed to eat, and wasn't picky about what it was, plus he was pretty sure the baker had some pretty damn good bread. "I don't really have plans beyond not dying to Zariah, I guess." Then, he looked away, more than a bit shy. "I was thinking about opening a school, though." His voice came out quietly.
Uneventful seems unlikely given Loren's expression, but for once Amalia chooses not to pry, a blush of her own blooming at the clear implication, her smile wicked as she looks at her friend. "Also eventful, though probably less fun," she answers instead with a touch of seriousness, her tone falling somber at the end. "Deaths, burning buildings, skeleton luxere... normal LongNight things."
She raises an eyebrow in mock surprise, shaking her head with a playful grin. "Bread? That might be difficult, but let me see what I can do." She's finally finished her first cup of wine, and it's beginning to get to her a little, lightweight that she is. As Loren continues explaining his plans she makes her way to the back once more, opening doors and gathering the fixings for sandwiches. "What kind of school?" she calls back, interest piqued by this piece of news. Shutting a cupboard with her foot, she returns to the counter, carrying a tray of savory jams and cured partridge.
"We always sort of... had people taught us. Nothing particularly structured. My grandmother taught lore and history, my mom taught medicine, a grumpy old librarian taught us reading and math..." She places the food down with a shrug, a nostalgic expression on her angular faces. Their community had been smaller, then, close, truly a village raising its children in tandem.
12-06-2019, 09:35 PM (This post was last modified: 12-06-2019, 09:36 PM by Loren.)
whatever comes, let it come
what stays, let it stay
Loren’s embarrassed flush morphed into a guilty expression. ”Yeah, we uh, had a lot of that too.” Looking away from Amalia, he took a sip of his wine. ”So you met Apricum?’ Although his tone was a little awkward, he was getting better.
Smiling at her bread joke (though it failed to reach his eyes), he watched her bustle about the kitchen. ”Anything and everything, I guess? So a general school.” Sighing, he ran a nervous hand through his hair. ”I was...well. I just thought, we have all this information that we’ve learned and collected, about Caido, about skills and subjects from this world and others, and no one was really spreading it around?” He let out a huff of laughter. ”It sounds silly when I say it like that.”
As the baker recounted her own schooling, he fell silent. When she finished, he let out another sigh. ”That sounds wonderful.” However, he looked down. ”And like maybe I should’ve asked before building something.” Still, it was too late now. Taking a larger gulp, he looked at Amalia, but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. "So your mother and grandmother were teachers?"
"He named it Apricum? I like that." She hadn't had a chance to ask between their swift return and the guild's downfall.
Tilting her head thoughtfully, she runs a finger over the grain of the wooden counter as he explains his idea for a school, frowning at his suddenly downcast eyes. "It sounds like a great idea to me." She reaches for him across the table, hoping to gently place her hand over his, a wry and amused smile on her lips. "You're very good at looking glum, has anyone ever told you that?"
His question about her mother and grandmother has her withdrawing her hand, though not unhappily, a bittersweet, nostalgic expression crossing her face. Taking a knife and chopping block from under the counter, she slides them over to Loren, grabbing a large loaf of fresh sourdough bread for him to slice. "Not teachers... it's more that any adult who had something to share, did." Shrugging, she continues to gather plates, trusting him to cut up the loaf. "My mother was the medic. And my grandmother... she was a baker, I guess. But she did a lot more than that. She... she was a really big part of the community when I was young. Always involved. Everyone loved her."
