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!
Since his visit to Amalia had revealed what had been a very difficult revelation indeed, that he had in fact two sisters, Sam had found himself plunged back into a dark place. He wasn't even truly sure why it had effected him so deeply, he simply knew it had, that the knowledge sat in his stomach like a heavy stone. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had so fought with someone he had a connection to.
Perhaps, more cynically, he was jealous. That a child of his fathers had missed having to grow up with him.
Whatever it was, it made him deeply uncomfortable, so he came to the Atheneum to do the only thing he could when he felt that way - read. He had heard of the Capturing the Sun myth, had even participated this year, yet he found that when he tried to really think about the legend he struggled to come up with much history on it. While the Atheneum was woefully lacking in Fae literature, he was curious to see if he could find any mention of the story in the oldest texts there, the ones preserved from before the barrier.
Stood high on a ladder, lost more in his thoughts than he wanted to be, he idly ran his finger over the edge of dust-covered book jackets and mumbled the titles out loud to himself, trying to force himself to concentrate enough to choose one.
With her explorations partially completed and her journal already close to filled with her observations and writings, it is only a matter of time before Nephele finds out there is a library. Already she has convinced herself that she remains out of a desire to record all she can about the Grounds and its people. It's easier to tell herself this remains entirely scientific instead of admitting that she is curious about the individuals she happens across in her travels. Perhaps she has some sort of affliction, a weakness or predilection towards it that her twin had thankfully avoided, something that makes her far too sympathetic towards the Grounders when they have harmed so much of her home already.
The silence of the Atheneum only makes her discordant thoughts louder, but at least the distraction of the books themselves - and their knowledge hidden within - keeps her somewhat distracted. Until someone begins muttering. It's a disruptive sound, one that scratches like jagged nails up her spine, and she can only stand it for so long before she abandons her search and goes fluttering down the aisles to find the source. Obviously the man isn't far considering how his voice had carried, and she hovers at the end of the bookcase with her arms crossed. "If you are in need of finding something, please ask for assistance instead of mumbling about." It's not exactly mean, Nephele is just kind of...like that. Abrupt, abrasive. If it makes the man go quiet, at least she will have succeeded.
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
The lack of footsteps ringing through the hall meant Sam could not tell Nephele was coming before she was suddenly there, her voice cutting through his thoughts and making him jump, grabbing onto the ladder as he tried not to hop away into mid air. Blinking a couple of times he stared at her, trying to make sure what he saw was true. Fae were not at all a common sight within the Hollowed Grounds, much less in dusty places like the Atheneum.
Along with his surprise there was an immediate fear, which probably seemed ridiculous for the small Fae, but her people hated his kind. He placed an automatic hand over his mouth before he spoke so she wouldn't see the fangs, making his speech muffled.
"Oi don'tff need haaelp." He insisted through his hand, shaking his head. Really, he'd mostly been speaking to himself to fill the silence. Moving his hand just a little further forward so he could speak clearer, he added: "I have been working here for years. I'm...um...sorry if I disturbed you. I didn't know anyone else was here, especially not...well, I didn't know anyone else was here." Feeling very awkward indeed, Sam clamped his lips shut and looked at his feet, hoping she might leave him alone.
Now, Nephele is no expert on Grounders, but she has recorded a significant amount of interactions both with herself and each other. Covering the mouth when speaking is not one of them, though now she pays close attention to the action, wondering what could be the cause of it. Bad breath perhaps? Fright? Why the man would be frightened of her - barely five feet tall and a fraction of his weight - is beyond her, but she's not going to give him reason not to be. Always good to have things tilt in her favor.
"Do you find comfort in your own voice then?" Again, not precisely condescending but pointed nonetheless. She drifts closer, wings humming softly in the sheer silence of the library. "What is it you seek? I am here for history of the Grounds, you are all quite...intriguing." A reluctant admission at best, but it's not like she can lie. And she won't let him escape this conversation, not when he is so peculiar himself. A prime specimen.
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
"Far from it, actually, I just..." Sam cast his eyes down, trying to keep his mouth angled at least a little away from her, resulting in him looking around like his neck was a rotating fan. "I just speak to myself when I need to find something, sometimes."
That she was here for the history of the Grounds did actually make him smile. He'd been under the impression that the Fae cared little to know about anything but themselves. At least if she was curious for knowledge like he was, they had something in common. "I'm looking to see if I can find any background on the 'chasing the sun' myth...oh, it's a Fae story, isn't it?" Sam took a step down the ladder, a little closer to her. He was still conscious about his teeth, but she was probably the best source he had for this.
The chance to write a new book for the Atheneum...
"Do you know much about it?" He asked, then thought to offer something in return: "I could tell you any Hollowed Grounds history you wanted to know."
Samuel is unknowingly lucky to have encountered Nephele, who dismisses his odd head positioning as just another weird trait of the Grounders. Though it will surely skew her data when or if she discovers the reasoning behind it, for now he is safe from further inspection. Instead she merely hums, accepting his explanation at face value. Though still mildly annoying, it does not physically harm her at least. She can put up with it if it begins again, though for how long is questionable.
The man steps down off the ladder, and she lets herself settle uncertainly on the floor, wings tucking against her back as he confesses to wanting to know about their seasonal 'myth'. Though the wording chafes, she does no more than wrinkle her nose at it distastefully before being distracted by the rather effective bribe he offers.
"It is no story, it is a collection of celebrations and activities throughout the season that nearly all Fae partake in, especially those local to the Sidhe Village." The slight sniff to her words implies her insult at the wording far better than the crinkle of her nose, but at least she is properly enticed by transfer of information. "I have lived it for fifty-three years, I am no expert but my knowledge is sufficient and firsthand. What would you like to know?" Perhaps if she gives him answers to all his questions he'll feel indebted enough to do the same in return. Except her questions will far surpass any he can ask about the festival, and that is his own problem.
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
Sam noted the wrinkle in Nephele's nose and for a moment did not know what could have caused it, until he examined his own words and - ah. He supposed he would not like it if his beliefs were referred to as myths either; he was about to apologise when she spoke and instead he just nodded, accepting her point. "Yes, of course. I apologise."
At least she still was willing to tell him all he wanted to know. Sam put a finger to his chin as he thought, then spoke out the first few questions that came to mind: "Alright, well, to begin: Does Safrin listen to the songs sung for her? Do adults regularly participate in the event, or only children? And has it ever...failed to work? Has the sun ever disappeared?" It seemed unlikely, but if he was treating the tradition as truth and not hearsay, these were natural places to go.
02-04-2020, 09:50 AM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2020, 07:58 AM by Nephele.)
NEPHELE
Nephele certainly isn't expecting an apology, and surprise flits across her face - far too unused to hiding her expression when she isn't very expressive in the first place. Nonetheless, she nods her head obligingly and something thaws in her expression to indicate forgiveness. There's no point to her in verbalizing her approval, a waste of time when she can practically taste the promise of information on her tongue.
But first she must answer his questions to appease him enough to list her own. "Gods are believed to be capable of hearing all prayers and songs directed with intent towards their specific self. Whether that is true is unknown - I have never met Safrin directly." His wording is confusing to her, as their beliefs are not wholehearted fact, but hopefully it is a sufficient response. "You are a race that lives and wilts in a span we cannot easily comprehend. In your scope of lifeterms, yes. Children and adults alike participate, though children do so more vehemently." Usually due to older Fae becoming less amiable towards their peers, having fewer friends and greater things to do with their day. "Yes...though only temporarily. The sun has gone blackened for a few hours in various years, and it has served to increase festivities and efforts drastically to convince it not to do so again. A warning, perhaps." Unpredictable, though she's unaware of the reasoning behind the eclipses that have frightened her people so in her years.
02-04-2020, 03:22 PM (This post was last modified: 02-07-2020, 07:25 PM by Samuel.)
I want roses set on fire
And I, well I want what’s best for me
Nephele nodded her head and so Sam hoped he had been forgiven, enough to get the answers he sought anyway; it appeared he had. Listening intently as she spoke, he reached to pull his small notebook from his pocket and scribble down some notes, not wanting to forget any of it. "Hmm. We assume similar - but there's no way to really know without asking a God, I suppose. I...do not talk often with the Old Gods, so maybe you could ask and report back to the guild sometime?"
As for their lifespans...well. His was much more likely to actually overcome hers, but he didn't mention that, just nodded. The subject made him sad anyway: the knowledge that his friends and family would all be dead while he still looked the same, felt the same, knowing that he'd have to watch them all grow old and wrinkled around him and wait for the ticking of the clock. "I haven't met any Fae children. When...do you become adults? What age, I mean?" He'd heard that some Fae could live for hundreds of years, like elder Ascended, but he wasn't sure if it was true.
Actually hearing that there had once been a consequence for a lack of festivities was surprising indeed. "Blackened...? How do you mean?"
Asking the gods? Nephele tilts her head, considering the idea. "I am not highly faithful, but it is a possibility, if only to meet them in person." Inquisitive hazel eyes fall to her bright-haired brother. "Your offer is unbalanced. What will I receive in return for this knowledge?" It's far from rudely spoken, but she is fairly curious what he will offer in exchange for direct knowledge from a deity that he for some reason cannot contact.
"We do not have a set adulthood, I suppose. It is a bracket of age from 50 to 80 seasonal cycles. Full mastery of flight occurs around five decades, thus the lower limit. We live for many hundreds of cycles, it is of no real concern to us to label our life stages." A delicate shoulder shrugs, unsure what else he may want to know. Age to Nephele is a broad thing with no real emphasis on things such as birthdays or milestones.
"The sun would slowly go darker across its surface, until the entirety of it disappeared with only a halo around it, and the entire land went dark as a moonless night. Slowly it would return in a reverse of the same way." Her voice is slightly lower and more hesitant here, superstitious despite her scientific inclinations, no way of examining such celestial matters even with her winged frame.
Nephele was right that the deal was not fair; Sam had hoped she might want to join their guild, might perhaps consider it her duty. As this was not the case, he only really had one thing to offer, though he doubted she'd want it, and it did involve revealing himself...well, he didn't want to hide forever. "I could tell you what you wanted to know about The Voice." Within reason, though; he wasn't about to share all his Goddesses weaknesses.
"50 to 80...wow...um...would it be rude of me to ask how old you are?" Sam asked shyly, knowing it was rude but wanting to desperately know. She looked so young, similar to him almost, but from the way she spoke it sounded like she could be hundreds of years old.
What she described about the sun sounded alarming indeed, though oddly familiar. "I...I think I read about something like that once, but they didn't call it blackened...I don't remember the word used." Sam tapped at his lip. "Hmm. ...Well, anyway, you have questions for me?"
Tension immediately runs through her shoulders, making her wingtips vibrate with a swell of emotion she can't parse. Part of her - the part that is distinctly Fae, that belongs to her people no matter her independent nature - wants to grab the nearest book and hurl it into his face. A follower of The Voice? Is he Ascended, then? Had he been one of those to kill the Fae defending the Mathair? The other part of her is so distinctly curious she can barely bite back the volley of questions she wants to ask. Aware of what an opportunity this is not just for her own curiosity, but her books. Her plans. It is what finally reduces the tension in her spine. "Godly knowledge for the same. A fair trade. If my prayers are answered someday, you have my word to honor our exchange." And a Fae's word is not to be taken lightly.
Age is nigh meaningless to Nephele, so she has no such qualms regarding the asking. "I am only fifty-three." Relatively new to the adulthood phase of life, but unashamed of that fact. She is still close to double the age of most of the Grounders. Neph tilts her head at Sam, stare intense as she considers his question, silent for perhaps too long to be socially acceptable. "No," she says at last. "I will need time to perfect my questions so as not to waste time on answers. I will write them in my journal in preparation for our next meeting, be it for our exchange or by stroke of chance." There is a distinct undertone of goodbye in her words, not that she is the type to say them. But the way she adjusts the strap of her bag and lingers only long enough for Sam to respond makes clear her intentions.
Sam could see the tension in Nephele's face, her obvious distaste for his people - but he also saw that she swallowed the prejudice, tried to move past it, made him a promise. Pleased to see her trying to work with him he smiled and touched a hand to his chest. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."
"Fifty three?! Wow, you look..I mean, I suppose for a Fae normal, but..." He shook his head, a little laugh of amazement leaving him. Really, given that Ascended could reach ages much higher he should not have been surprised, but he still had not met many immortals. "You look well."
Nephele's goodbye was obvious as such and Sam was glad to have the pressure of being a good diplomatic relation to the Fae relieved. Still, he found himself excited to speak with her again and trade information. "I look forward to hearing them. Good luck."
