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!
The Artist's Sanctuary had almost become a second home to Oliver. When he didn't want to be cramped in the manor and didn't want to just aimlessly wander around, he found himself here. It was a nice escape, considering everything that had recently happened. Things were....not great. Not in the slightest, but he did have a small thing to hyper-fixate on: The Sun Myth. He remembered Bastien telling him some information about it, something about a basket or catching the sun? Oliver wasn't sure what exactly it mean, but he'd go with it.
With himself settled down, sitting on a table, Oliver sketched away, trying to decide on a basket he'd make. Materials lay in a massive stack next to him. Part of him had high hopes that Bastien would appear, be able to help clear up this confusing part of the myth and maybe even make baskets with him. For now, he simply tried to focus on drawing possible baskets that he could make, ignoring all of the weird thoughts and feeling currently coursing through his body.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
After yet another day of fruitlessly trying to work in the studio, Amun had decided that perhaps it was time to try something different. So he'd grabbed a cloak, and ventured out into the Domiciles. His steps were sure, taking him down the now familiar path to the Artist's Sanctuary.
Entering into the small haven, he shucked off his cloak. However, the sight of Oliver inside gave the potter pause. Indeed, he froze entirely for a moment, not even breathing, as he stared at the other man.
Amun resumed his movements soon enough, entering into the Sanctuary proper. "Hello Oliver." There wasn't much inflection one way or another to the words. The Ascended took in the sight of Oliver drawing before shrugging. Walking towards the paints, Amun regarded them cooly.
The faint sound of someone coming indoors caught his attention, but only barely. He offered a small wave, clearly trying to finish up with a certain thought. If he hadn't been drawing, he absolutely would've said a proper greeting, but he needed to get down the idea he had before it escaped his brain.
Just as he was finishing up with the final line he heard a very familiar voice. His eyebrows raised and he held his breath for a moment. It...was Amun. Looking up, Oliver offered him a small smile. "Hey Amun." He wanted to be polite, despite any feelings he may have towards Amun. This was especially the case seeing as Amun didn't seem....all that great. Oliver was so used to a flirty Amun, one who had an upbeat and carefree tone. This Amun? He seemed troubled. And he called him Oliver. Maybe Amun had finally started to treat him like a normal person or maybe something was wrong. The first one would be great, but the latter?
"Are you working on any new projects right now?" He tapped the end of the pencil against the paper, a constant rhythm.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Picking up a paintbrush in his left hand, Amun regarded it. Then he slid it into his prosthetic, watching it carefully. Finally, he examined the paints, lingering on each color for probably too long a moment. He wasn't bothering to breathe, nor was he moving beyond the deliberate ones. "Nope." It came out a little flatly and bluntly.
Not turning around face Oliver, the potter continued his study of the paints. "What're you drawing?" Finally, he reached out to pick up a can of blue paint. That done, he moved on to the easels. Setting both paint and brush down, Amun considered the blank canvas before him.
The silence between the two was eerie and unsettling. Oliver had seen what the events of Fiat Lux had done to people like Sunjata and Loren, but he had somehow assumed Amun would've been okay. That the man would be just as chipper as normal. So, despite his anger towards the man, Oliver worried a bit and almost missed that obnoxiously flirty side of Amun.
Oliver's eyes followed Amun as he made his way around the room, gathering up paint and materials before he made his way over to a canvas. Glancing down at his own paper, he tapped the pencil against it. "I'm drawing baskets...you know, that way I have an idea before I try to make it." Quick and straight to the point, seeing as Amun was preoccupied...with something. Amun didn't have any ideas in mind, but he at least he knew he was going to paint apparently.
"Um...you can join me if you'd like? Also...I have some paints if you want them. They're not here, but I can leave them here the next time I visit." Where the fuck did that last part come from? Dang, Oliver.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Amun nodded absentmindedly at Oliver’s statement. ”Good idea.” The words were more than a bit distracted. Standing in front of the easel, the potter felt his eyes drifting aimlessly between the blank canvas, the can of paint, and the brush. He made no move to start painting anything.
At the other man's offer, the Ascended shrugged. Leaving his supplies behind, he walked over behind Oliver. Still standing, Amun peered over the other man's shoulder at the sketches. "You can bring the paints if you'd like." The potter's voice wasn't so much disinterested as it was detached, somehow, not really matching up with his expression or his posture.
This version of Amun was...uncomfortable. Maybe it's because the only side of Amun Oliver had seen was the talkative side. Even when angry, Amun still had a busy mouth, but now? Barely a peep escaped him. The horrors of Fiat Lux had touched even Amun, the man who seemed incapable of losing that spirit within him. The glowing phoenix had died and maybe soon, it could be resurrected, but for now it remained a pile of ashes.
The blonde's eyebrows raised ever so slightly when Amun walked over to peer over his shoulder. Not bothering to turn his head, Oliver tried to move his hands out of the way, allowing the Ascended a full view of his sketchbook. "Which one do you think I should actually make?" On the page were quite a few attempts, but only three were truly complete. First, in the top right corner, laid a basket shaped like a bowl, very round at the bottom but with a nice, flat top. Next, just below it, was another basket. It was very round as well, but it was far more like a vase, becoming smaller towards the top. Then, at the bottom right, was a basket that was square and cube-ish with a far more intricate lid.
"It's always nice to get a second opinion, right?"
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
As Oliver revealed the diagrams, Amun continued looking over the other man's shoulder. The potter's eyes lingered on each of the three completed designs for an almost uncomfortably long time. Nodding at Oliver's comment about having a second opinion, the Ascended continued studying the options.
Finally he reached out with a hand and pointed at the basket in the top right. "The first one." Stepping back, he turned to head back to the easel. Once there, he lifted the brush with his left hand. However, that was where he stopped. He simply looked back and forth between the blank canvas and the can of paint.
A pleasant sort of silence falls between the two once he reveals the artwork to Amun. Personally, he had fallen a bit for the first two, far more of a fan of circular baskets than the sharp, box shaped one. Luckily, Amun seemed to have similar tastes. The faintest of smiles appeared on his lips and he nodded in agreement. "I think that one's good as well." Pushing the book away, he grabbed for the materials and paused to look up at Amun.
"I think I'm going to start making the circular base, then once I decide I can pick between the first two." And with that, he turned towards his book and materials and started to work on carefully weaving the materials. He had discovered how to do this by accident, back when he was weaving grass. Obviously, the grass didn't hold together. This material was far sturdier and would hopefully make for a great basket.
"You're free to join me, if you'd like...otherwise we can just work on our own things." If Amun wanted to paint then Oliver would leave the man to do that without interruption, but he might as well offer to have Amun join him. That seemed to be the nice thing to do.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Amun just nodded at Oliver’s comment. ”Sounds like a plan.” By that point, he had already started drifting back to his easel, holding the brush loosely in his left hand.
At the other man's offer, however, the Ascended shook his head. "I can't join you or work on my own things, really." With that, he finally dipped the brush into the blue paint. Reaching forward, he tried to make a simple line, but his hand wobbled and wavered, leaving an uncertain smear on the no longer blank canvas. Sighing, he put the brush down.
Then he slipped a square of cloth out of his pocket. Sliding it onto his left hand, he imagined it turning the same shade of blue as the paint. It did so, leaving his skin a hue not seen in normal people. Then he added a bit of purple and green, adding increasingly complex patterns.
The offer was turned down, but Oliver didn't mind. Instead, he let out a simple shrug and moved on to his own work. It didn't take him too long to finish up a base. It was roughly the side of a small plate, maybe with a 4 inch radius or so. Once this was complete, he stole a glance up at Amun, watching him work a bit, before his eyes returned back to his work.
Whilst Oliver worked, he would listen carefully for the sound of a paintbrush moving across canvas. Due to the silence within the room, the sound of art being made echoed loudly. The weaving of fibers was faint and constant, almost in a rhythm. The lack of speaking wasn't uncomfortable in Oliver's eyes. It gave the two of them an opportunity to create without being completely alone, allowed to be within their own thoughts but with the knowledge that someone was there. That all would be well, despite the events of Fiat Lux.
Over time, he would work on the basket before deciding to do the simplest design, the first one. So, his hands would continue to move, but his eyes would ever occasionally drift over to Amun, watching him paint, curious to see what exactly he was working on.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Amun continued to weave the images on the square patched onto his hand into increasingly complex geometric patterns. Once he was satisfied, he held it up to the blank canvas. His earlier blue smear looked pathetic, so he lifted the brush in his now vibrant left hand and tried to paint once more.
Unfortunately, his second effort was as pathetic as his first. So he lifted his right arm, and slide the brush into the prosthetic. It took a bit of fiddling to get it to stay, but eventually he managed. Reaching forward, he tried to paint yet another blue line. Surprisingly, this one was going well.
Until he tilted his wrist a little too far and the brush fell from the prosthetic.
The faint sound of weaving continued as his hands delicately spun the fibers. At one point, he'd prick himself with one of the pieces of material. Setting down the half-finished basket, he winced and looked down at his hand where a splinter now stood. Not to worry, he easily pulled it out, wiped off the small bit of blood, and continued on with this work.
After that, his work would go almost perfectly until the sudden sound of a paintbrush clanging on the ground echoed through the room. Normally, it would've been masked by talking, but due to the hushed silence between the two men it rang out loud and clear. Looking up with only his eyes, Oliver could see the brush just within his range of sight. With a soft sigh, he willed his telekinesis to ever so gently pick up the brush and slowly lift it up until it was hand level for Amun. He hadn't really seen what happened, but he might as well offer his assistance. Hopefully Amun wouldn't take offense to it.
"What are you painting?" His words broke the silence, showing keen interest now in his artwork. The drop had caught his attention and he wanted to know more.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
As the brush clattered and Oliver looked Amun shifted the square to look like his normal skin, making it invisible to the other man. As the brush lifted, the potter lifted his eyebrows, but plucked it from the air. As Oliver approached, the Ascended stepped back. "Nothing."
Walking away from the easel, he headed towards where the other man had just been working. "How's the basket coming along?" Reaching out, the potter picked up a piece of straw. Rolling it between his fingers, he stared at it for a long moment. Then he tossed it back down and moved to lean against the wall instead.
