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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Loren nodded at Amalia’s question, a faint smile on his lips. It blossomed into a full grin at her comment. ”Really?” He flushed, an embarrassed look on his face. ”I was expecting another lecture on Outlanders coming in and stomping all over something the Natural’s had done just fine on their own for centuries.” It wasn’t the wisest thing to say, and his voice was awkward, so he took a sip to cover it.
Letting out a huff of laughter as her hand covered his, he nodded again at the baker’s joke. ”Yes. I have heard that one before.” Shrugging, a slightly guilty expression crossed his face. ”Lifetime of inadequacy, torture, and being told I’m not good enough means I tend to assume the worst about everything, especially myself.” He wasn’t above a bit of self-deprecating humor when it was called for.
Falling silent, he studied the baker’s features as she explained how they’d handled schooling. When she finished, he gave her a sympathetic look. ”They sound wonderful. Especially your grandmother. I take it you were close?” He picked up the knife and being slicing, his motions steady and practiced. ”And I take it you miss her?” This time, his voice came out much more quietly.
She has the decency to color up a little at his teasing, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. "I don't lecture about everything-" and the question that lingers is genuine, her dark gaze suddenly insecure as she looks at his slender face. Do I? She hopes not. She wants to be tolerable, to be tolerant, to be liked. Her smile turns chagrined as she tuns away. "I... I'm sorry. If it seems like I do."
Discussion of her lost family softens her, the sting of sadness finally dulled to the point where she can speak of them without too much pain. "They were," Amalia agrees fervently, nodding as she begins to spread onion preserves over slices of bread. "My Nani - my grandmother - she was the one who taught me about the gods. And... and everything else, pretty much. She would talk to me when my mom and I fought, and when I would feel anxious and lost." Both things happened frequently when she was young, and only escalated with the Chandrakant matriarch died.
"After... after she was- was gone, I sort of stopped, um, stopped being part of things. I let the bakery fall apart and spent all my time in the Atheneum. I thought... I thought it would hurt forever." She quirks her lips in a mirthless smile, closing her eyes against the sudden rise of tears. "It still does."
Now it was Loren’s turn to reach out to lay a reassuring hand on Amalia’s. ”Oh no, I totally deserved it, coming in here like I did and stomping all over your traditions. No apology necessary.” He flashed her a brief smile, before biting his lip. ”But...maybe find a way to channel the enthusiasm of the next eager Outlander in ways that work for everyone.” It came out quietly and a little hesitantly.
He left his hand where it was, giving the baker a gentle squeeze before returning to cutting the loaf. ”But it’s a familiar pain now.” Giving her a slightly sad smile, one that definitely didn’t reach his eyes, he paused in his slicing. ”She sounds like a remarkable woman.” Then his movements with the knife resumed. ”So. How would you feel about carrying on her legacy, teaching the legends to another generation of the Hollowed Grounds?” His smile turned real and happy.
"She was everything to me." It's a breathless admission from behind closed eyes, exhaled almost silently into the space between them. "I just hope- I try to be something like the woman she would have wanted. But I'll never measure up to her." There's no bitterness in her voice, just acceptance of fact.
The reivere she has fallen into is shattered by his next question, so unexpected that the Shield cannot hold back a laugh. "Me?" she repeats, pointing to herself, expression clearly telegraphing how absurd the idea is. "W... Why? Why me? I don't- that is- I've never, ah, taught things." Clearly flustered, she shakes her head, long hair falling in front of her face. But beneath the anxiety is something else... Excitement? Enthusiasm?
As Amalia closed her eyes, and seemingly closed herself off, Loren tilted his head. Setting the knife down again, he reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder. ”So your grandmother was the Shield of Vi then?” His tone was gentle and maybe a bit bemused, but there was a lightness in his eyes and posture. "I think, if she were here now, she'd be delighted to know what you grew into. Because she loved you." His voice came out quietly, but with a great deal of certainty.
At her sputtering sounds, however, he let out a huff of laughter and squeezed her shoulder before releasing it. He started to cut the last of bread. ”Oh really? How quickly you forget the earlier conversation about lecturing me.” He shook his head and made a tsking sound, though the corner’s of his lips twitched with amusement, and his tone was gently teasing.
Then his expression softened and his voice gentled. "In all seriousness, you've taught me a great deal about Caido, the gods, and the Hollowed Grounds. I can think of no one finer to do the same for others." He smiled then, one of those real and increasingly less rare smiles that transformed him into a different person, someone younger, lighter, brighter.
"My grandmother was more closely aligned to Mort, actually," Amalia replies with a bit of a shrug, sidestepping the teasing comment and pushing back a lock of hair. "And it was Vi who named me Shield of Safrin, so I suppose that makes me his." She says this with no small amount of pride, trying and failing to hide the smile that blooms across her face. A smile only further emboldened by Loren's gentle reassurance, embarrassed and pleased all at once, unaccustomed to such overt praise.
The comment about her lecturing has her raise an eyebrow. "Did you learn anything from that, except that I'm self-righteous and a know-it-all?" she fires back quickly, the laughter doing very little to mask the sharp self-depreciation in the words. Oh, she knows what people think of her: that she is holier-than-thou, a fanatic, a child playing at greater purpose. She thinks it of herself more often than not, wonders why she continues trying when her actions so rarely lead to success.
Disbelieving, she shakes her head, chewing thoughtfully on her lip as she glances shyly up at Loren from underneath lashed, hooded eyes. "But that was just through conversation. Teaching- I don't know. I... I think I might like to try, but I'm not really good at talking. I get nervous easily. What if I can't do it?"
Loren couldn’t stop the bark of laughter from escaping his lips. ”Yes, that’s exactly what I meant by my comment.” Tilting his head, he gave her a brilliant smile as Amalia admitted (with the right amount of self-confidence) that she’d been handpicked by Vi.
The smile gracing his lips morphed into a slightly embarrassed, but still pleased grin. "I did. I learned to ask before doing, and to listen more than I spoke. I just don't always succeed with those lessons." His words were as self-deprecating as hers. However, when he spoke again, it was softer and more soothing. "Just because I didn't want to hear it doesn't mean I didn't need to." His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out if that actually made any sense. Then he shrugged and sipped his drink.
Sliding the now sliced loaf of bread over to her, he gave her another smile. "Well, then just think of it as conversation with more than one person at once, if that helps." His voice was cheerful, but firm. Reaching out, he tried to rest his hand on her and give it a reassuring squeeze. "You can do this, Amalia." There wasn't a trace of doubt in his words.
Amalia begins to pile the sandwiches with far too many fixings: onion jam, lettuce, tomato, cheese, cured meat, cucumber, and finally more bread. It is good work, distracting from the thunderous beating of her heart, the anxious butterflies that beat against her stomach. Teaching, her... The idea is dizzying. What if she does poorly? What if she fails?
Loren's hand makes her pause, looking up at him through wide, dark eyes. A smile flickers across her face, underneath the blush: "I'll... I'll try," she promises softly, her alto impassioned and insecure. "What, ah... What did you want me to teach, anyway?"
As Amalia loaded up the sandwiches with all the fixings, Loren’s eyebrows rose. However, he gave her an approving smile and nod. Taking his plate (or what he assumed was his plate, since it was closer and they were identical), he took a bite and made a pleased sound. He barely finished chewing and swallowing before he beamed at her. ”This is excellent!”
Her blush and her hesitation response elicited a reassuring grin from him. "Well. I thought it might make sense for you to teach about the old gods, and about the customs of the Hollowed Grounds." Despite her uncertainty, his tone held a great deal of faith in her abilities. "You could also teach people how to bake, if you're so inclined. Or whatever you want, really. I am open to suggestions." He took another bite, then a sip of the wine as he waited for her to answer.
12-21-2019, 05:00 AM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2019, 05:00 AM by Amalia.)
Amalia
the shield of safrin
She blushes happily at the praise, a shy, proud smile brightening her face. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything more. I usually have dinner at Deimos's house- or our house, I guess, sort of. Um." Furiously flushed, she trails off, still vaguely mystified at the idea that the general would choose to share his life - and his home - with her.
At last Amalia relaxes a little, or enough to bark a nervous laugh. Shaking her head in playful indignation, the baker arches a slender eyebrow. "Customs, Gods, and baking?" she asks, affecting a wounded tone. "Now I'm beginning to think you asked for this just so you could enjoy doing any work."
Smiling, Loren waved away Amalia’s apology. ”This is plenty. And again, wonderful, thank you for feeding me.” Taking a bite, he let out an approving sound to let the baker know he meant it.
However, after he chewed and swallowed, the corners of his mouth twitched. ”How are things between the two of you? Or...I guess, what are things between the two of you? I don't think you ever told me, and he definitely didn't.” His smile gained a sheepish edge at his comment about the taciturn General.
The summoner's smile morphed into a fully fledged grin. "Oh, and convincing you to do it and of your own self-worth wasn't work?" Letting out a little huff of laughter, he raised his free hand to tap his chin in an overly dramatic thoughtful pose. "I suppose I could teach customs of the Hollowed Grounds, the old gods, and baking, and you can teach some other class. How do you think that would go?" His eyes practically sparkled with mirth.
Her blush only deepens at Loren's line of questioning, her relationship not something she often speaks of - in part because it is nobody's business, and in part because she is a jealous guard. "Ah, we... we've been together since Fiat Lux last year," the baker admits with a happy smile, not meeting Loren's eyes. "And we only started living together in LeafChange. And... yeah. That's it." Her expression says that is definitely not it, but she does not volunteer more, unsure of what to say.
His teasing makes her laugh again, sticking out her tongue playfully. Placing both elbows on the counter she dramatically leans upon her hands, her dark eyes glittering as she looks up at him. "That sounds like it will go wonderfully," she replies with mock-seriousness, nodding her head. "You do that, and I will teach magic and politics and how to be a- a duke, was it? What even is a duke?"
Recognizing Amalia’s flush as the same one that graced his own cheeks whenever he was asked about Abasi, Loren smiled faintly. ”Well. I’m happy for you two.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing contentedly.
At her joke, however, he grinned. "Works for me!" Taking a sip of wine, he swallowed, before letting out a huff of laughter. "A duke is just below the royal family in terms of nobility."
His tone was self-deprecating, and only grew more so as time went on. "I'm afraid I was very bad at it, worse than I was at magic. I was in disguise as a commoner for a while, and yes that was as ridiculous as it sounds, and once we were exposed I was always a little too dissatisfied with the status quo to be a good noble. And that's not even getting into my fraternizing with commons and uh, with men." He blushed and looked away.
"Were people really so bothered by that?" Amalia shakes her head, confused as to why anyone would care the gender of another's partner- but Remi had told her much the same. As for the lordship and commoners and nobility?"Maybe it's the wine talking, but the more I hear about Northaven, the more it sounds worse than landshark shit."
Definitely the wine talking, judging on how flushed she is as she makes this declaration - as well as her empty cup.
Grabbing the bottle to fill up her glass, Amalia raises it to Loren in a wry salute. "Well, thank you, your Great Dukeship-in-disgrace, for sinking down to fraternizing with this lowly commoner tonight."
