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!
When was the last time she broke and sobbed like this? And when was the last season she didn't? Every turn seems to bring some new insurmountable challenge or disaster, and though she has survived each in turn, Amalia does not feel stronger for it. Not now as she curls in Adam's arms, weaker than a kitten, powerless and lost. Left behind by her goddess...
It all hurts so much.
And yet here is Adam, her weird, wonderful friend, sitting at her side and offering her his faith. There is Deimos, ever in the periphery of her mind, ever constant despite her downfalls. There are others: Kiada, Loren, Jigano, Rory. Friends who believe in her for reasons she cannot understand, friends she believes in, as surely as she loves her gods. If she falls apart now, if she splinters and folds, how many people will she be letting down?
Her sobs subside enough for her to speak again, turning her tear-tracked face up to Adam, a hopeful expression in her dark eyes. "Will you come?" she whispers to him, the query quiet from her tattered throat. "Will you... will you tie the bracelet for me?" It is likely he has no idea what the symbolism of this request is, but Amalia doesn't have the presence of mind to think that far ahead. It's an important task, a job given to the closest family, and she can think of noone else she would want to bind her to Deimos. To be there with her as she moves toward the future, one painful step at a time.
Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels
Adam didn't move an inch, stayed exactly where he was wrapped around Amalia for as long as she need, staring at a spot somewhere on the floor (where the sun was just hitting the stone and looked like the beautiful corner of a renaissance painting; unfitting to the scene he found himself in only steps away) and stroking her hair, occasionally rocking just a little, whispering comforts to her.
When she first pulled away to ask her question he didn't quite understand it, tilting his head. 'Come where?' he nearly asked, but then she asked her next; Adam didn't know what it was he was being asked to do, but he could tell it was something important and memories stirred in his mind of some marriages in his old world celebrated by the tying of a sash between two hands. The symbol of a bond.
"Of course, Ama, I'll do anything you want. I'd do a hula dance at your wedding if you wanted me to. I'd love to be there." With a smile he reached up and tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "I can't pass up the chance to see you in a diamond studded floor length gown anyway, can I?"
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
The smile at his agreement devolves swiftly into an expression of mock disgust at the mention of a diamond-studded gown. "Gods, no, it's not going to be that fancy. I just want something small and simple." No diamonds, no crowds, no crazy gowns. Just promises and traditions made in the views of their families and their gods.
That would be more than enough.
"You're definitely dancing now, though." Something close to hope squeezes at her chest, a kindled belief that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. With some reluctance she shifts in Adam's arms, wincing at the strain it puts on her arms as she moves to lay her head on his shoulder. "What was your wedding like? Did you wear a big gaudy dress?" Honestly, it wouldn't surprise her in the least.
Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels
Grinning now that Amalia was playing along, Adam wore his own expression of mock offence. "C'mon, I could design it for you? The neckline could go down to your belly button and the collar could be a metre tall! Of course, we'd have to do up your hair in a beehive..." Playfully he held a strand of her hair up over her head, as if planning out some kind of structure.
"Of course I'm dancing. What's a wedding without dancing? You gotta convince Deimos to dip me, though." He nudged her, though his smile faded at the question about his own wedding; it was hardly a fun topic. Still, it was helping to distract her so he moved to look at her and make sure she was comfy before he spoke, beginning with a shake of his head.
"Nah, that was Heidi's thing. I had to wear this really boring uniform thing they put rich boys in, and --" He actually snorted a little laugh, remembering this specific detail. "--They put fake medals on it, so they could pretend I was some war hero from far away. That was better for their precious girl than a highwayman she actually happened to like."
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
02-04-2020, 06:45 PM (This post was last modified: 02-04-2020, 06:45 PM by Amalia.)
I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
She shakes her head indignantly at his ridiculous suggestion of Deimos dipping Adam, but cannot hold back the small smile that creeps up on her lips. "Deal," Amalia agrees, not noticing her friend's faltering smile as she leans against his shoulder.
She does sense his tension, though, and winces a little remembering what a sore topic this whole affair must be. "I would have thought you'd steal your own metals," Amalia teases gently. Despite her tone and posture she is still far from relaxed; her fingers are a dead giveaway, working across the sheet and picking at stray strands of the frayed fabric.
But here, with him, she's beginning to feel like maybe things might just be okay. Closing her eyes and exhaling heavily, Amalia leans deeper into his shoulder. "Tell me about some of your escapades, oh Adam Fucking Pikely," she entreats, genuinely interested in a story. She will listen until she falls asleep, the healing and trauma and medicinal teas working to force her body to rest.
