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!
Loren was exhausted, but he pushed himself through the streets of the Domiciles anyway. He held a large bundle in his arms, one that he carried carefully. Dressed all in black, his features were gaunt and his eyes were haunted. There were dark circles under them, and lines where there hadn't been any before.
Finally, he arrived at his destination, Phoebe's home. He knocked a bit faintly. "Phoebe? It's Loren. I just wanted to check in on you." Voice raspy, almost from disuse, he waited before her door. As he did, he shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, wondering if his presence here would be welcome.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
"Come in, Loren." Phoebe called upon hearing who was at the door. It wasn't exactly the most appropriate response, but it was a clinic partially after all, and the door was always open. Upon entering, Loren would find Phoebe hard at work, pouring over a complicated looking book while she made various medicines for all of those injured. Dark circles were under her eyes, easily discernible on her pale skin, hair tossed in a messy bun atop her head.
Though she had escaped the events physically unscathed, the emotional wounds Phoebe bore were buried deep beneath layers of wild imagination. Her body lived in reality, her soul lived in the world of Frey created through her mind's eye. Her wounds from the previous years had never fully healed, you see, each one making the previous wider, deeper, more painful. This last one had broken something she could not identify, nor did she really want to.
At Phoebe’s voice, Loren entered, still juggling his bundle. He took in the room at a glance, seeing the text, the medicines both made and in preparation, and her own disheveled and defeated appearance. The door closed softly behind him as he stepped forward, setting his offering on the table. ”I brought soup.” Unwrapping it, he’d reveal a covered container, a serving spoon, as well as two bowls and two regular spoons.
He didn't say anything further than that, just moved so he could see the text and the medicine she was working on. Recognizing the current cure, he wordlessly fetched the next ingredient, holding it out for her.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
Honeyed eyes glanced at the soup briefly, before settling back on her work, carefully separating ingredients with skilled precision. "That's kind of you, thank you." she said quietly, a bit automatically. Responding in the way that was necessary for social convention was simple, mindless, requiring little to no thought at all - which was how she preferred it. To think to much allowed her mind to wander much to afield of Frey's sanctuary.
The midwife took the next ingredient from the summoner without a word, without hardly any acknowledgement at all in fact. Phoebe was clearly far and away, only present enough to focus on her task, unable or unwilling to engage with reality more than she absolutely had to. She was a healer after all. Healers did not get to rest when the wounded still needed tending and medicines. And there was no healing this healer, wounds far too deep, heart shattered into too many pieces.
Loren gave her a slightly concerned look at Phoebe's response to his words. However, his expression soon slid back into a neutral mask. "You're welcome." His voice was soft.
After she took the ingredient from him, he moved back to the other side of the table. Lifting the ladle, he served out two generous portions of the soup. Putting a spoon in both, he slid one in front of her. "Eat. Please"
Dragging a chair over, he began to eat himself. However, after the first spoonful, he paused. "I am sorry for your losses." The words came out even quieter this time.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
”I am not hungry, but thank you.” Phoebe said softly, with equal automation as she ignored the bowl of soup that was pushed towards her. Instead she continued to work, filling bottles and jars with this and that, labelled with care and precision. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt hungry or thirsty. She was tired a lot but there was far too much to do for her to rest – and she would rather not suffer the consequences of nightmares either.
She did glance towards the summoner briefly as he apologized, before slowly shaking her head. ”There is nothing to apologize for, but your condolences are appreciated.” she said, voice hardly above a whisper, lacking even the slightest hint of her usually warm demeanor.
As Phoebe turned down Loren’s soup, he sighed, and nudged it closer to her. ”Neither am I. But I don’t care. Eat anyway.” He scooted his chair closer, and then lifted each and every jar, bottle, and ingredient that she reached for out of the way with his telekinesis. ”No one is currently in critical condition anymore, and I can guarantee you your remaining patients will be much more distressed if you work yourself to the bone making medicines that they can wait a little bit longer for." Again, his voice came out softly, almost gently, and without much emotion beyond that.
He nodded in response to her words. "If you need anything from me, please let me know." With that, he took over making medicines, though he'd lift everything out of the way if she tried to help.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
She blinked in a bit of surprise as her tools and ingredients began sliding away from her hands of seemingly their own accord. The midwife glanced at Loren, not taking his little lecture well, though it didn’t immediately show. ”Don’t tell me how to treat my patients.” she said with a hint of firmness, trying to reach for her work again. Loren didn’t understand. She needed the work. She needed something to focus her subconscious mind on while drifting through dream worlds with her conscious mind, or else she would drift back to reality. Her reality was too much to bear.
”There is nothing I need I cannot get for myself, nor is there anything I cannot procure that you could either.” she with a quiet huff, still trying to reclaim her work and pointedly ignoring the soup.
Phoebe’s outburst, unfortunately, did not move Loren to compliance. Instead, it led him to compassion, and he steadily stared at her, expression as gentle as he could make it. The work floated away from her fingers effortlessly. ”When was the last time you ate or slept?” His voice was as firm as hers, if not firmer, though tempered with concern.
As she kept flailing at the floating objects, he steadfastly kept them just out of reach. "I am sure that is true." His tone had softened. "But there are things that I can do, that are easier for me at the moment than they are for you."
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
She gave him an unamused look, still flailing for her things. ”Recently enough that I am not dead or dying.” she said dryly. The answer would suffice enough surely. She wasn’t starving herself, nor refusing sleep. She just wasn’t partaking of much of it. So long as she wasn’t on Mort’s doorstep he really had nothing to complain about.
But it was useless it seemed to reach her things, his magic outwitting her own dexterity. She sighed and sat, resigning herself to twiddling her thumbs instead as she stared at the floorboard. ”I’ve managed to get myself engaged, of all things, so I highly doubt that. If I can manage that I can manage anything.” she mumbled.
Loren’s expression was as unamused as Phoebe’s, though much kinder. "That doesn't really answer my question, or satisfy me. You can survive on very little sleep or food, but that doesn't make it healthy." Crossing his arms, he jerked his head at her bowl. "When you eat your soup you get your things back."
At least she subsided. However, his eyebrows rose in surprise when she admitted she was engaged. He was silent for a long moment as he processed that bit of news. "You're...engaged? Uh...congratulations?" Dropping one hand to his lap, he ran the other through his hair distractedly. "To um...who are you engaged to?" Although he tried his best to speak normally, he couldn't mask his surprise, and his voice was incredibly awkward.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
It was no use arguing, and overall just a waste of energy. So she sat in front of the bowl begrudgingly, though she did not touch its contents, simply staring at the baseboards on the opposite end of the room. He would leave eventually and then she could get back to work having not touched a drop of the soup she desperately did not want. It was one of the few things that seemed likely to work out for her.
”Sunjata.” she said softly, shrugging her shoulders, lacking the enthusiasm a recently engaged young woman ought to have – especially one who had so badly wished to wed. ”He said he would do whatever it took to make me happy. I called his bluff by telling him to marry me and he agreed. In three days we will wed and enter a loveless, passionless marriage, purely out of spite.” she said in a whispery tone. ”But we won’t be alone in our resentment so I suppose that’s nice.”
Loren eyes dipped to the soup then back to Phoebe. ”You’re not going to offend me by refusing my gift now, are you?” As he waited for her to begin eating, he lowered ingredients, tools, and half-made medicines, finishing as many of them as he knew how. It was a surprising amount: he’d spent a decent amount of what little spare time in the Medical College’s library, seeing as there weren’t classes for him to attend, and many of those texts covered herbal remedies.
Listening to the midwife’s explanation, he took a spoonful of his own soup as he processed the words. "Is this really what you want?" His eyes searched her features.
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
”Would you really be offended, or just offended to manipulate me into eating?” she said, glancing up at him. Though even as she looked at him, she didn’t seem to be fully aware of the world around her. The midwife’s gaze was distant, elsewhere, seeing things her mind created to protect what sanity she had left, and leave what parts of her heart remained intact. It was a pity, really, Frey’s world was a beautiful one, just like the deity themselves.
At his question, she shrugged, looking back at the baseboard’s across the room. ”It doesn’t really matter.” she said softly. ”Whenever I have gotten wisps of what I wanted they died or left. What I want is not part of the equation.” she said.
