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!
You're out of sorts and so you've just been wandering. For how long? You aren't sure. Given that you're always a bit of a mess (unbrushed hair, unwashed hands), it's hard to tell from your appearance if your general state of disarray has culminated over a few hours, or if you've simply woken up this way.
(It's the first one.)
You aren't wearing shoes and there are blisters on your feet, not that you've noticed. Your eyes see nothing, though they're wide and bright blue, staring without seeing at the cobblestones ahead of you. Your notebook is open, grasped clumsily in one hand and you're talking to yourself. Nonsense, probably.
The potter’s wheel was spinning, and it had a lump of clay on it. Amun’s brow was furrowed in concentration as his left hand reached for the unshaped clay, fingers dripping with water. Beginning to shape in the simplest of shapes, a bowl, he pinched his fingers, trying to follow the motions that had once been so familiar to him.
But one-handed, his dominant hand crushed beyond even his body's ability to repair, he couldn't work they clay as effortlessly as he used to be able to. The bowl came out lumpy and uneven, as had the countless previous attempts he'd tried since LongHeat started. Sighing, he pressed it back together in a solid lump, and tossed it back with the rest of the clay.
Then he snatched up the walking stick that lay nearby, and limped for the doorway. Unfortunately, as he arrived, he realized he didn't have any particular destination in mind, so he just slumped against the doorway. Shockingly, he found someone he recognized out there. "Hey Oia'i'o." The foreign syllables fell easily and confidently from his tongue, but his voice lacked the cheerfully teasing tone it had when she'd seen him last. "What're you up to?" He tucked his ruined hand behind his back. The apron he wore was splattered with bits of clay, but he didn't care, or even notice.
"You never say my name." You say, distracted, eyes still on the ground. One of your hands finds a clump of your hair, and you pull at it nervously, over and over and over again. It's a tick of yours. Normally Kai is around to smooth his hand into yours to stop it, but just now he isn't, so you tug again and again.
"Nothing. Walking." You blurt, the directness of his question forcing out a response that you haven't given much thought to. By this point you've stopped, though you've only glanced sidelong at the potter once to verify the voice belongs to who you think it does. For your part, you're panic-pulling at a strand of hair and staring at the ground like some wild and frightened beast, forced to stop by invisible reins.
At Oia’i’o’s comment, Amun glanced away. ”You’re right, I don’t. But I haven’t really been in the mood for nicknames much lately.” His words came out quietly, without much inflection. "Besides, you never liked yours anyway." He looked back at her, taking in how she pulled at her hair.
Pushing off from the doorframe, the potter stepped gingerly out of his studio, still limping from the damage to his left hip. "That's alright. Walking is nice. In fact, mind if I join you?" He waited there, not taking another step towards her. "What're you writing today? And do you have any questions for me? I'll answer them without even asking anything in return." A ghost of his old good cheer echoed in that last statement, but it was faint enough that it might as well have been a trick of the light or the mind.
Your eyes widen but your pupils don't dilate as there is still nothing that you seem to be tracking in your field of vision. "Never stopped you before." You observe without judgement, fingers twisting around the paleish strands of your hair.
"I.." Normally the answer would be an immediate know, only just now your head is too full for just about everything for even your preferences to be clear. So now apparently you two are walking.
"You're limping." You ask. Not a question. "Is that because of the festival?"
Amun grinned faintly, again appearing as if the tattered remnants of his former joy and confidence were wrapped around him like a cloak. "You're right. It didn't." Shrugging again, he shifted so that most of his weight was leaning on the walking stick, though he still kept his injured hand hidden behind his back.
As they began walking, he kept it there. "Yes. It is." He paused for a moment as he navigated around a particularly large crack in the cobblestones. "Some ice went straight through my hip. It's healing, just very slowly." Sparing a glance for her, he raised his eyebrows. "You ran away from Spin the Bottle." It wasn't a question either.
You don't notice the hidden hand precisely because you aren't looking at Amun or anywhere. Just one foot in front of the other. It's all you can do really to hold your end of this basic conversation (not that you're doing a particularly good job).
"I thought the ascended healed quickly." You murmur, blue eyes furtively stealing a glance towards his hip before jarringly focusing back on the cobblestones before you. "I didn't want to play in the first place. And...I didn't want it to land on me again." You offer.
The awkwardness of the conversation was palpable, but Amun made no move to alleviate it. "We do." He focused on putting one foot in front of the other as well, not offering any more information than that.
At Oia'i'o's comments about the game, the potter glanced over at her again. He smirked, but his heart wasn't really in it and his eyes didn't sparkle like they used to. "You're saying that like the first time it landed on you was bad. You wound me." However, there was something off about the words, something wooden, as if he was simply going through the motions or reading off a script.
Well at least you're right about something. You seem to perk up ever so slightly because of it.
"The first time it landed on me I had to kiss the man with the scratchy mustache." You point out, your hands tugging again your hair again. In fact, with as 'off' as Amun is, you find yourself relaxing more and more. Not looking at him, not having to constantly question the bobbing of his eyes or his constant winking is far, far easier for you, especially given that Kai isn't around to translate these movements into things that you can understand.
Amun noticed Oia’i’o perk up ever so slightly, since unlike the demi-god the potter was actually perceptive when it came to people. Sometimes he just used that power to be a dick instead of for good. Well, most of the time. ”Even our accelerated healing has its limits. With extensive injuries, it still takes time.” He paused, and finally let his hand fall to his side, revealing how it had been entirely crushed, hanging limply from his wrist. ”And some things can’t be healed at all.”
Looking at her again, he snorted. ”That did look unpleasant, you’re right. I guess I should’ve said that it sounds like the first time it landed on me was bad for you.” He trained his eyes to the front again.
Again your glance is quick, though your eyes assess what you're seeing quickly enough. Shattered, the bones (did he have bones?) likely crushed. The fluid-vessels (now you're just making things up) were probably all but shredded within his skin. "At least you don't feel pain. Will the Voice heal you?"
To this you say nothing since he hasn't actually said anything for you to reply to. Without noticing you've begun to chew at your lower lip, the phantom buzz like a left over ghost from his kiss haunting the skin there.
Amun nodded at the first part of Oia’i’o’s observation. ”At least I don’t feel pain. Of course, the flip side is that I don’t feel pleasure.” Glancing at the demi-god, he rubbed the ruins of his right hand against his thigh in a subconscious gesture. ”I asked her. She didn’t respond. She's healed others with similar injuries though.”
Finally noticing what he was doing, he let his right hand drop, focusing on walking. His walking stick clattered against the cobblestones. However, movement from her drew his attention. His eyes snagged on her lower lip, and the way she chewed it. "You're upset." He kept walking, though his head remained turned to face her.
"I thought you did when replenishing fluids." You remark. "I do not really experience pleasure either." It isn't for the same reasons as Amun of course, though in a way...it is. Both of your receptors when it comes to certain sensations have been changed. Damaged in your case.
"Mmm. Is that typical of her? To not respond?" Your fingers twist around your notebook, finding your curiosity stirred given how very little you know about the Voice.
His observation has you nodding. "Yes." You confirm.
01-07-2020, 11:09 PM (This post was last modified: 01-07-2020, 11:09 PM by Amun.)
amun
Amun chuckled at Oia’i’o’s observation, though there was very little mirth in the sound. "Aye, I do, but that's the only time. And it's rare enough that it hardly counts." When she admitted that she didn't feel much either, he glanced at her sharply. "Seems strange to me that you'd participate in Spin the Bottle if that was the case. Though I suppose it explains your less than positive reaction to my kiss." There was a ghost fo his former good cheer in that latter comment, but it faded.
Shrugging at her question, his eyes drifted to his injured hand as his walking stick clacked on the cobblestones. "I don't know. I'm a recent arrival. You'd be better off asking one of the other Ascended."
At her confirmation, he appraised her. "I thought you didn't get upset."
