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!
12-24-2019, 09:45 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2020, 02:40 AM by Wessex.)
you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
Ok, so, Magic is harder than teleporting. Maybe it’s because she knows the Grounds so well that seeing where she wants to be next seems to come naturally. The demi-god has never had magic. All of her skills, all of her upgrades are based on physical and mental prowess and this requires another level of… focus and concentration. It’s feeling for things she didn’t know existed (and isn’t used to reaching for). The technical prowess required makes her appreciate the learning curve for those who weren’t born with it, those who were granted the skill later in life.
And of course, the problem is that she can’t practice this without someone else doing it first. So Wessex is on the prowl for a friendly, non-busy face to help a girl out. Train her, for once.
The glade is a popular destination for the apothecarist once the snow melts away, and once again she finds herself here, yet again looking for new growth to take back to her shop. What she isn't expecting is to run across a familiar face, one that's just the slightest bit distant with a focus that she envies of the former queen. Normally she would nod her head in greeting and move on by, but something pulls at her stomach and makes her pause. Perhaps it's the expression on Wessex's face, or her own lingering emotions regarding the forum and the stance she'd taken, but the redhead girl changes her path to move towards the Wraith.
"Hullo, Wessex. How are you doing?" As she speaks she lifts a hand, magic extending outwards to lift a branch out of her way to duck beneath it and try to intercept the woman if she isn't busy. It is becoming easier to implement her magic in everyday life now, though she still sits up at night consumed with terror sometimes, wondering how people will react to her. Mostly the Naturals, and Sam. It's dangerous to reveal herself to Wessex considering how close the two are, but she's tired of living a lie these days.
Sometimes she can walk through the Marketplace and other common areas and feel the magic being used, which makes her stop and try to get close enough to copy it. As Evie comes up to Wessex, the Wraith can feel her use a bit of magic and latches on to it, feeling the difference from Rex’s and marveling internally. She lifts her hand up to the tree and copies the move, nudging the branch in a certain direction.
Which is more than a small surprise, considering she’d never known that Evie had magic. Tilting her head a little with newfound… respect? Clarity? She begins to see the other Wordsworth in a new light. “I’m ok, actually. Thanks, Evie. You?” No word about her magic use yet. It’s enough that the girl knows she knows. And the Wraith also knows her family would be quite distressed if they knew that their other child was as disappointing as Sam.
Bullshit, in her opinion. But you can’t always reason with traditionalists.
Blue eyes widen a bit when Wessex copies her move, the branch swaying up and away in the same manner as what she had conducted moments ago. But...wasn't she Ascended? Or perhaps she had been a hybrid of sorts like Rexanna...but then had she hidden it, as Evie had, all these years? It makes her pulse thunder in her ears to consider the possibilities, nearly missing Wessex's cordial words as her brain tries and fails to make the necessary connections. Even so, her mannerisms remain intact to the point of thoughtless execution. Maria Wordsworth would have it no other way.
"As well as I can be, this is my busiest season. What brings you out here?" Not that either woman likely cares for the pleasantries, especially Evie. The curiosity itches under her skin like poison ivy, only growing more intense as she continues scratching. Her eyes flit to the branches they had moved, and she can't help the question that she parts with far too soon for polite conversation. "I'm sorry, I can't help but ask. How did you do it?" They're likely not on that level of friendship yet, but they are both Natural women, and the lack of outrage from her own display comforts Evie greatly. Makes her believe that maybe Wessex can be trusted to keep the secret she has carried since her first breath.
“Practice.” With a little wiggle of her fingers indicating magic usage, instead of say, weapons usage, Wessex reveals herself as one of (what she likes to think) a growing number of Naturals who are ok with magic. She’s always been ok with magic use - perhaps the conspiratorial look on her face indicates that - but the older woman can easily see why Evie Wordsworth might be more than a little shocked to find that out. Her parents were never easy to get along with; as engrained in the old ways and antique biases as pigs stuck in quicksand.
In truth, Wessex had always pitied the Wordsworth children. But with their father’s recent death, perhaps they can find a bit of personal freedom and begin to live the life they truly want.
Looking at the redhead with an expression that clearly says really? on it (mostly for the second part, not for the first part of the forthcoming explanation), Wessex tries to explain that which she doesn’t truly understand yet: her magic use. “If you’re asking about the mechanical how, I’m not sure how it works. I can feel magic use around me and replicate it at a basic level.” She pauses, ever so slightly. The magic had to have come from Evie, which makes her Abandoned at the very least, and therefore potentially a little less biased about Old God things.
“The Voice gave me the power. When she made me brighter. A demi-god, like Ronin.” A small shrug. No big deal.
There is a distinct comfort as the minutes unwind and the woman wiggles her fingers in display of her own magical aptitude. Companionship, sisterhood. Someone who knows the weight of her admission, more than any Outlander possibly could. Someone who knows her family name, her brother's history. Perhaps Wessex is merely becoming a collector of redheads, or just Wordsworth children, but Evie's smile is relieved and grateful in ways she is too proud to voice.
A demigoddess. It brings Evie to pause, blinking owlishly. Truthfully she hadn't thought The Voice had such power, in a purely logical and theoretical sense. And while a part of her - the part that is Wordsworth at heart, that is tied to Amalia and weakly empathizes the woman's faith - shrinks aways at the idea of such power, it doesn't...actually bother her as much as she expected. Her faith has shriveled only further the more she has accepted her own race, her inevitable fate. It's impossible to avoid the gods entirely, but why should she care what The Voice does? It is a bitter outlook, but one she clings to pettily. And it makes it all the easier for her features to soften and her sincerity to come through when she speaks. "Congratulations, that's...truly an honor, I would think. It's understandable you'd want to practice your new abilities." Whatever they may be.
Smiling and gesturing for Wessex to walk alongside her, she continues along her path through the foliage. "I've had magic my whole life, but this is the first any earthly inclinations have shown. I guess I'm practicing too," she admits, offering the proverbial hand to her companion. Initiating the conversation that had been taboo her entire life.
In a way, Wessex might as well be a collector of the Wordsworth children - Sam, Evie, and apparently Amalia, though none of them know that yet. Noticing that her admission of the ability to do magic seems to calm Evie down a bit, the Wraith does her best to reflect a sense of ease and camaraderie - two Naturals in this together, two women, two people who have survived against all sorts of odds.
Nodding slightly, the demigod ventures a small smile. “It is. I am honored. But unfortunately improvement doesn’t stop just because I’ve earned a Goddess’s favor.” If anything, she should work even harder to improve, to continue to demonstrate her worthiness. There are others who have far more power than she does; what will she do when she comes up against them?
Unafraid to flatter the girl for a bit of help, Wessex looks at Evie with an admiring eye. “You know far more than I do. Would you mind teaching me? Whatever it is you can do, earth or otherwise, I’ll try and copy or invent something new.” They’re secluded here in the glade - with any luck no one will come upon them, and if they do, she has a feeling that the Wordsworth girl is good at suddenly hiding things and pretending like nothing is amiss. It’s weird, but Wessex doesn’t want all her tricks getting out.
A wry smile plays on the healer's lips. "Improvement doesn't stop even after we're decomposing in the ground," she snorts. Though Wessex has far more years ahead of her than the rest of them for such improvement. And that's without adding in her new demigod state to the mix.
Flattery is precisely the right angle for Wessex to take, inspiring a flush of embarrassed pride to take over Evie's freckled cheeks. "I have good control, but it's certainly weak. But I can do my best to explain how I manipulate it." Similar to her conversation with Jigano at least. Lifting her hand she focuses on the branches hanging down around them, targeting a particular offshoot as she begins to speak. "The way I see it, there's energy in everything, scientifically and magically. Magic to me is just...finding that same thread and tugging. But you have to have intent, pick the thread you want, not the whole cloth. Or in this case, pick a specific branch, something you can narrow in on." An analogy she has crafted from years in the barrier, with no real science or advancement to speak of. The branch she has targeted begins to bend and arch towards her hand, quivering in place when it can go no farther. Only then does she stop and turn her gaze uncertainly to Wessex, trying to conceal it. "Now you try."
“That’s all I can ask for,” Wessex replies with a small smile, more than happy that Evie is a.) receptive to flattery and b.) willing to help. Not everyone would be. And knowing the girl for as long as she has, ‘her best’ is probably pretty damn good. Certainly better than Sam’s best efforts.
Wessex takes a step towards Evie to make sure she stays within the ‘power radius,’ as she’s begun to think of it. Head inclined to listen to the instructions, Wessex’s eyes are directed towards the redhead’s hands, but they’re a little distant. In theory, she understands what Evie is trying to say, but it doesn’t quite apply to her because she can’t access the magic unless someone uses it first. On the other hand… feeling for the thread makes sense.
She nods absently, reaching out for a different branch as Evie cuts her magic off. Instead of making it bend, she tries to make the leaves on the tree in front of them age and turn to the colorful, Leafchange version of themselves. And to some extent, they do, changing from a young, vibrant green to a summer green to a pale yellow - some achieve true gold status, but Wessex’s concentration isn’t up to snuff yet. She falters and loses the line.
Exhaling needlessly, she looks to Evie for some feedback, asking, “Do you have just the one magic, or multiple? Do they feel different to you?”
Evie lets Wessex come as close as she likes, not bothering to correct her or try to force their gazes to meet. Whatever helps the woman focus and learn, she's more than welcome to do so in Evie's presence. Though she's certainly no scholar in the way her twin is, Evie is still nevertheless curious about the finer details of Wessex's imitation powers. How close must she stand? Is her control over the magic she copies dependent on her practice with the imitation, or the magic she clones? It's all very interesting, and yet a part of Evie recoils at her blatant interest in magic that is not her own. A taboo that goes beyond the sins she has already committed.
By the time Evie comes back to herself, she watches Wessex turn a leaf from a verdant shade to a sunny yellow. "It's amazing how fast you pick it up," she compliments in turn, smiling at the leaf as she watches it bob in the breeze, unaware of how its lifespan has been diminished. Unease trickles up her spine as it always does when she is questioned on her magic. The apothecarist shoves it away with no small deal of annoyance, sick of living with such feelings. "I also have healing magic that I was born with. They have the same technique of application: focus, intention, and energy. But they also feel vastly different when I reach for them. Or perhaps that's just me projecting some sort of personification upon my magic." They definitely feel more like 'healing' and 'earth' when she reaches for them, either a tickle under her skin or the familiar sensation of soil against her palms.
The compliment makes her smile - a genuine smile - rare for Wessex, rarer perhaps, in Evie’s presence. The last time they really saw each other had been when she’d renovated Theskyra House (a bold name, a foolish mark on what she’d hoped would be a success. Ah, well…). And despite living in the same bubble and all that jazz, they are not friends. Yet.
“Thank you. Your description helped.” A brief pause. “Though I don’t think its quite the same thing for me. I can… feel magic when it’s used in a certain - radius? Yes. A radius. Around me. And then it’s like I just know what kind of magic it is. But I have to use it quickly.” Her brow furrows as she tries to put it into words - something she’s never done with this power before. And she knows it isn’t how the Abandoned use their magic. “Otherwise it… floats away.”
Unfortunately, healing magic doesn’t work on Ascended.
“Can I try the earth magic again?” She'd like to practice at least three more times so it can count for training.
Evie ponders over Wessex's words, intellectual mind whirring as she considers how best to help the woman. They may not be friends necessarily, but they are both Naturals, which already makes the redhead more inclined towards helpfulness. Not that they've truly had any negative interactions so far. "Hmm...so maybe it's like hearing melodies, or smelling different things on the air? You have to be close enough to hear or smell them, but you can discern different songs apart, or tell if someone is baking bread or smoking meat." Again, not the most scientific approach, but she'll leave Phoebe to that sort of thing.
"In that same way, energy - or magic - isn't permanent. I only activate it for a certain time, so everything has to align for you to copy it." Quite an interesting power to say the least. Though Evie happily does as requested, this time her hand moving out at her hip level to make a few of the stones at their feet go rolling through the leaves, battering themselves against Wessex's boots.
Wessex brightens and nods in agreement. “Yes! And -” here she chuckles, because it’s a the core of being an Ascended “- those senses are surprisingly strong. Well, sensors. Both. In terms of magic, I just know what’s what. Like I know when something is malfunctioning.” It’s weird to say aloud, and she even winces slightly after the fact, acutely aware of how some things sound.
Following Evie’s usage, the Wraith takes the same stones rolling towards her and re-directs them, sending them aggressively rolling to her right, and they don’t stop until they cross the 30 feet threshold. “It seems to have gotten stronger,” she says in observation. “Healing won’t work on Ascended, but can it work on plants? If I carve something into a tree, can we fix it?” Or would that come under earth magic?
The only other option is for her to hurt an animal and then try to heal it. Which she doesn’t really want to do at the moment. It doesn’t seem like something Evie would appreciate.
Pleasure suffuses the woman's expression at having found a good middle ground to help explain Wessex's new powers. Her wince is noticeable, but Evie brushes over it, not wanting to point out the woman's differences. She is acutely aware of what it's like to be an outcast. She would not put Wessex in that same position willingly of feeling regret for her existence. "Like I said, amazing. Which means you just have to practice now." Which is precisely what they are doing, and Evie is happy to lend her time and magic to the woman's cause.
"Definitely stronger than I can manage. That's curious." While her mind is busily chewing away at that new information, Wessex proposes another idea, one she has truly never tried before. "Hmm...I don't think so, I've tried to use it on wilting plants, but they're made of different things than humans. I've been able to help grow a plant with my earth magic, but not my healing." Ah, but that doesn't mean they're at a loss! Brightening, Evie unhooks one of her throwing daggers from its thigh holster, smiling at Wessex as she spins it in her hand to clasp the blade towards herself. "But we can test it nonetheless!" And, without preamble - and so she can't focus on the anticipation of pain - slices her palm open with the sharp edge of the dagger. It's finely honed enough that the sting doesn't even register until the motion is through, which she appreciates, and grit teeth help to keep the sound of a hiss away from prying ears.
Holding her bleeding hand out so as not to stain her clothes, she moves a little closer to Wessex just in case, though the radius has already been proven. "Okay, I'll heal myself now if you want to focus on it." And without further ado she pulls on her oldest, most familiar magic. Letting it seep into her palm like pooling water, knitting the flesh back together as if there had never been a wound there in the first place.
