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!
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam had felt anxious, when he had first entered the Aetheneum - ridiculous, really. He'd been going there his entire life, since he had been a small child; it had long been a sanctuary for him. Now, though...he was keenly aware of the Loreseeker's guild below, of the master of the guild...who he was sure would not approve of what it was he was here to do.
But this was the only place he could find all the books he needed, and besides, he'd gotten tired of hiding. After spending some hours pouring over books and making notes based on past conversations, he began to write on the first page of a cream-papered book, bound in a dark blue leather.
The Voice and Ascension: An explanation and Defense.
He wrote, in neat, thick letters along the top. For a while he watched the ink dry, wet glints soaking away into the paper, wondering if anyone would actually care that he'd written this. That he'd taken the history of the Ascended, the arguments he'd had to face, the things The Voice had told him...and gathered all of it. Truthfully, he wasn't really sure why he had the need to do it. Some kind of vague notion of a future Ascended, if his generation were wiped out, finding it and finding some comfort within the pages.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, he thought a while before putting:
Written in 310PC by Samuel Wordsworth. I am like you.
Carefully, he drew a swirling line around the title, the pattern turning to leaves and vines as it spread out from the words, each leaf baring the name of another one of their Ascended family - Those here now, those that had left them; he left some leaves blank for those he did not yet know, and those he never would.
With the introduction complete, it was time to move to the first chapter, which he intended to be as complete a history as he could make of The Voice and her life. Of course, he'd have to make sure he got the details correct with her later, but he felt between his research and what she'd told him, he could make a decent start. He dipped his pen once more in the pot, then began to write, completely absorbed in his work.
Loren had been spending a lot of time in the Loreseeker’s archive lately, still attempting to catch up on all that he'd missed while he'd been ill and away (and needing a distraction from the dark turn his thoughts had taken). Flipping through the book on the flora and fauna of the Hollowed Grounds, his eyes scanned the pages, committing them to memory. However, even he had his limits, and as his eyes and head protested, he sighed, and shut the tome.
Standing up, he sent a call out to Astra, who trotted up to him. She was more than happy to ascend the steps that led to the Atheneum, and he rubbed her head fondly, even though his eyes were distant and haunted, given there was no one around to pretend he was okay for. Emerging into the Athenuem proper, he made his way towards the exit.
However, a shock of red hair caught his eye, and he turned to look. While the unknown man scribbling furiously was unfamiliar to him, old habits carried the summoner over to the stranger. The Launceleyn cleared his throat to announce his presence. "Hello there. Are you in need of assistance?" His tone was polite, and on his face he wore a neutral mask. The luxere hid behind him, surprisingly shy.
Wessex is… not the best at returning books. If the Atheneum were a functional library, she would have racked up some hefty fines and potentially had her library card revoked. The books she takes (rarely does she remain in the stacks to do research) usually sit in her dark house, sometimes acquiring damp spots or mold on the edge of the pages. Her shack isn’t exactly bright and airy, but at least there aren’t any food or drink stains on the covers. Returning said books now, the Wraith walks through the aisles and deposits her bundle on a random cart, hoping that someone who works there or frequents the place more often than she will know what to do with them.
She turns to return to the night and is about to leave when Loren’s voice comes faintly to her ears. Wondering who might need assistance, the Wraith slips back into the books and quickly finds herself coming up behind Loren and - oh, Sam. Well, Sam certainly doesn’t need any assistance here, she thinks, but Loren has a nasty habit of sticking his nose in places it doesn't need to go. So she pipes up, “Ah, Sam - there you are. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Play along? she sends to her brother as she pulls up another chair to his table.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam was so absorbed in his work, in making sure each phrase was right, each word spelt correctly, that he did not hear the hooves making their way up the stairs, his mind turning the (rather bizarre) noise to background buzz. When he first heard Loren's voice, he assumed he had to be talking to someone else; it was only the lack of a response after a moment that made him think the call might be for him.
He looked about to see a man he'd never spoken to, but who he knew of - one of the Launceleyns, he believed. Anxiety spiked in his chest as he wondered what he would make of Sam's work, but he had no reason, as of yet, to believe Loren hated the Ascended. "No, thank you. I've been writing and reading in here since I was a child." Sam forced a smile, feeling like his mouth didn't know how to do it all of a sudden.
Normally the last thing he wanted when he felt uncomfortable was more people, but the arrival of Wessex was a relief. She was strong, an Ascended like him; if Loren did object to his writings, he had support. Though quite why Wessex was acting like they had arranged this meeting was beyond him - still, he gave her a tiny nod to her mental message. "Oh, it...it's alright. I only just got started. This ink takes a while to dry, so I thought I'd try get the preliminary work done."
As Wessex arrived, Loren gave her a careful nod. ”Hello Wessex. How are you?” When she mentioned the other man’s name, the summoner glanced at the redhead. Sam’s comment caused the Launceleyn to smile faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You must be Samuel, then. I've heard so much about you, all good, though I'm sorry we haven't met properly before. I'm Loren." He held his hand out for the other man to shake.
Something in the interaction between the two Ascended struck Loren as off. It triggered long dormant instincts and old training that he hadn’t drawn upon in quite a while. Still, he trusted them.
So he kept smiling, and tilted his head to try and get a better look at what the redhead was writing. "What're you two working on? Perhaps I can help." There was a genuine curiosity in his voice, and he snagged a chair of his own and settled into it.
How Loren could possible know that their interaction was off when he’s rarely seen the two Ascended interact and they both know Sam is awkward AF, is beyond Wessex. But so it goes. “Great,” she says to Sam. “Can I see what you've got?” Standing up to lean over the pages, she is now actually able to see what he’s writing - the title, their names, the surprisingly beautiful vine an dleaf pattern that radiates from their little family. A soft, sad smile appears as she sees names of people who are no longer with them - and people she’d liked, but had disappeared - lost or dead or withering away, she does not know.
Loren’s question about helping (why does he always think they need his help?) echoes in the back of her head. “Ascended things,” she answers absently, eyes still on the beginning pages of the tome (a unique idea, one she likes and approves of and would help craft, if Sam feels so inclined to listen to the things she’s learned). The same way he does Attuned things - so do they do Ascended things. It’s a schism neither can cross.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Loren informed Sam that he had heard things about him (good, he promised, though Sam was not so sure) and he nearly demanded to know who, finding it very odd he might be someone notable enough for people to discuss. Maintaining some polite distance though, he simply returned the handshake. "Hello. I've heard of you too." Not always good things, though.
He tilted the book towards Wessex, finding himself actually a little nervous to see what it was she'd think of his work. The smile on her lips was a good sign, even if he could see the sadness behind it - his work was getting a reaction from her, which was what he always wanted.
Loren sitting down drew his eyes away and he opened his mouth to reply (something misleading, but semi-truthful) when Wessex cut in before he could. Sam slowly closed his mouth, but felt a little bad - like bullies from when he was a child excluding a kid at lunch. "...It's probably best if it's secret, for the moment. I'm sure you understand. ...What is it you came to the Atheneum to look for?" He smiled, trying to be kind but not reveal too much about his project.
Samuel and Wessex started pouring over the text. When they both informed Loren that they’d rather work on the cryptically secret ‘Ascended things’ on their own, he leaned back in his chair, looking away. Sighing, the tight grip Loren had on his emotions and his features slipped. The neutral expression he wore almost all the time these days slid away, revealing exhaustion and heartbreak for the briefest of moments.
Astra, sensing his unease, pressed against his leg. As she did, he stroked her fur and schooled his features back into an expressionlessness mask. ”I was just catching up on some reading on flora and fauna for the Loreseekers." Standing up, he nodded at the two Ascended. "Best of luck." With that, he turned to go and began walking away, his luxere companion still at his side, staring up at him with worried eyes.
Sam may have felt like a bully, but Wessex didn’t; the ex-Queen knows full well that Loren can’t keep his mouth shut and based on the title of the work, this isn’t something that should be talked about before it’s ready. If he’s hurt by it, it’s the consequence of his own actions. She spares the Launceleyn another absent-minded nod farewell, waiting for him to venture beyond eavesdropping range until she continues.
Earlier in the year, she might have said this wasn’t a good idea - but as no one came to tear down the painting Bastien made and the Voice hasn’t done anything “bad” lately, it’s probably a safe way to provoke a conversation. “So. What’s prompting this?” Can’t remember whether or not Sam’s revealed anything about his troubles with others she questions, sitting back down in her original chair. And then a pause and a little side-eye glance. “Were you the one that posted about the Blight on the Notice Board?”
If this is Sam’s version of rebellion, she’ll take it. And run with it, as far as they can go.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
It seemed Loren was going to leave anyway - Sam could not really blame him, with Wessex giving off rather clear vibes that she'd rather they were alone. She was very forceful, when she wanted to be. He tried to give the Launceleyn one last polite smile as he left, though, not wanting to make another enemy for himself.
Still, he was glad to be alone and able to discuss his work with a member of the family. "Well...I've been wanting to make a history and glossary of our people for a while now, anyway. This Atheneum has information on all kinds of things - if someone recently Ascended came here to find out more, I want them to be able to locate that information." That was the practical reason, the one that sounded reasonable. The other: "..And...well...recently I've had a couple of arguments. About The Voice and whether or not her vision for the future is right. I think it'd help to have a written down list of arguments and ideas to present."
The second question caught him by surprise; Sam had placed up the notice quite a while ago and had thought it had gone mostly unseen. "Ah...yes, that was me. Are you...mad about that?"
Forceful or not, the Wraith has her motives. Sam may not appreciate it, but she hopes he can admit that her strength, her violence, her claws and her power keep him safer than if he were without her.
“No. Why would I be?” she asks rather sharply, surprised that he might find something done in the name of their family and the Voice to anger her. She has many opinions of her brother, ranging from admirable to despicable, but they come and they go like the tide. She is capricious and mercurial, only because she doesn’t understand his gentleness, thinking it weakness because it is not her way. But the Voice sees him differently, and Wessex trusts her Lady.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” And it doesn’t, truly. Those who would challenge Sam do not dare to challenge her or Rex. The others are not known well enough, or perhaps are less controversial. Either way, she can see why the Wordsworth is an easy target. “Who did you argue with? If you don’t mind me asking.” She arches a brow - it is only to know, for knowing’s sake. His sparring partners are safe - for now.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam nearly gritted his teeth when Wessex asked, knowing he'd now have to delve into the paranoid and complicated ways his mind had to make him miserable. "Ah...well...I did it without permission and later I wondered if it might make anyone angry, then they could cause problems for us. I thought you might not like the sudden attention." To say he had regretted it later was probably too strong, but Sam had certainly thought back to the notice many times since it had gone up, wondered if he could have done it differently.
"I think people see me as..." He stumbled around the word weak, but they both knew it was there. "...soft, like I might turn my back on The Voice if they yell enough at me. But it won't happen." A fist curled atop the table, his voice was more determined than it usually became. "I'm not stupid, and I know the choices I've made are the right ones." A mantra of his from the recent months.
He paused before revealing the identities of those he had fought with. They probably wouldn't thank him for it, but it would be obvious anyway, he thought. Besides, his loyalties had to lie with his Ascended family...didn't they? "Jigano and Amalia. Jigano, when I was gathering the metal for my fingers. We ended up making a truce of sorts, but.." Sam shook his head, putting down his pen as he knew he was going to be too distracted to work for a while. "It's awkward. Amalia and I fought in Halo. I thought she was going to attack me, at some points. It...became very personal, in a way I regret."
“Luckily I don’t have to worry about non-Ascended feelings anymore,” she responds with the tiniest of wicked grins. “And Rex is far more forgiving,” an impetuous response, to be sure, but true and ultimately part of the reason she’s happy to be out of the ruling business. “No, it was a good idea. I’m not sure anyone outside our team believed it, but it was an excellent pro-active move.” And it had proven to be true, the Old Gods’ supporters harping on the possibility of the blight spreading, when they’d told them that little glitch had been fixed. They’d cut that argument out from beneath their naysayers, leaving the ‘portal guardians’ with little to stand on.
A finger traces the grain of the table as she listens to Sam continue on. “They’re bullies. And hypocrites.” Wessex is no saint either, since we’re on the topic, but at least she doesn’t target her weakest ideological opponent and try to batter them down. “If they continue to come at you, you can always send them my way. Not that you can’t handle yourself, but maybe a taste of their own medicine will do them good.” After all, there’s a reason those two individuals don’t come after Rex or herself or Amun or Nate. And it’s shitty and unfair.
They’ll all likely have a shit ton of regrets by the time this - whatever this is - is all said and done.
Giving Sam a look and a little shrug, she exhales needlessly. “So. Where would you like to begin with this?” He's the writer. She's just the person to bounce ideas off of and maybe edit a few things. Make sure it's well rounded. That sort of thing.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
In opposition to Sam's usual luck, Wessex seemed to approve whole-heartedly of his notice board post, even calling it an 'excellent pro-active move', not something he was often attributed to. "Oh, well, thank you. I just desperately want everyone to understand..." He was running out of ways to prove his Goddesses worth, but he'd keep trying until he ran out.
Sending his opponents to Wessex...he could help the amused smile. "I'm sure if I told Jigano to go see you, he'd tell me...well. Nothing very polite." It was hardly a secret that the bard didn't care for her. "But...I think I can actually manage for now. I think...I'm getting better at standing up for myself. These last couple of years, I've had to." Of course, he was nowhere near as strong as her, or a lot of the other members of their family, but he was miles from where he had once been.
As for his book, a topic he felt infinitely more comfortable deal with: Sam ran a hand over the page, the dry ink staying on the page. "I thought it would be good to start with a history of The Voice and our family. As much as I know...I made it so I could add more pages or take them out as I learn more. I'm sure The Voice will have some corrections for me. ...Do you know anything special about her history?" After all, he'd only recently become curious about it.
