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!
“Mmmm, that’s good to hear. Still, I’d love nothing more than to see him powerless, strapped to a chair, silenced, and forced to hear his hypocrisies laid out before him.” She shakes her head. “I’ll never understand how the Outlanders could come here and get sucked into the Old Gods’ worship. Didn’t they have their own gods in their own world? Can they abandon them so easily? Is power that alluring, that they can shut their ears to the possibility that everything here isn’t what it seems to be?” Wessex scoffs, scowls, and the criticism of the Outlanders becomes a tiny bit heated. While it’s true she’s never liked most of the invaders, this is one of things thats bothered her the most. Phoebe’s attachment to Frey. Jigano and whomever. Loren and whomever. It would be one thing to be raised and indoctrinated - it’s another to come in as an adult and fail to make educated choices.
Granted, the blight fucked them over a bit in that regard, but…
Pushing the thoughts away, the Wraith refocuses on what Sam said. What does she know? There’s a sudden change and a soft smile spreads across her face, as if she’s warmed from within. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about her history. But I do know her name. Her original name.” She pauses and considers the pages in front of her. “But names have power and I’m not sure it should go in the book. It seems… private. Like it was meant for us, alone.”
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam raised his eyebrows at Wessex's rather vivid (and frankly, slightly horny) description of what she'd like to do to Jigano, deciding it was best not to comment on it. He still wanted to work with the man in some capacity, after all - maybe that was where he was weaker than Wessex. He always wanted to find half measures, ways between, solutions.
Still, he agreed with what she had to say about Outlanders. Many of them came and immediately began to lay down moral judgements on their world and Gods without much context or experience and it had grated on him too. "I don't know why so many of them gravitate towards them...I suppose it might be for some of them that when they learn The Voice brought them here in the first place, they might be mad to have been lifted from their old lives..?" A guess, though he'd heard similar sentiments from Outlanders before.
Wessex's sudden smile surprised him as well as what she had to say. He put down his pen, indicating he was not intending to write anything down and leaned forwards, interested and conspiratorial. "...Can you...tell me what it is?"
She clicks her tongue in agreement. “Might be it. Who knows. Feels like sometimes it might just be who they encounter first. And there are more of them then there are of us.” Anyway, moving on from that depressing topic.
Wessex notes that Sam has put down his pen. In the past, she might not have trusted him with this, but she can tell that he is trying. And of everyone else in their little family, he is the most dedicated. She nods, carefully. “Lleisi,” she says quietly, placing her tongue just so, to get the correct, very foreign sound at the beginning. It still sounds alien to her, clearly from a vastly different time, and perhaps a vastly different place. “I’m sure the projection She uses is just that, a projection, but it seems to fit Her.”
Her eyes go to the pages again. They’re achingly bare. They know very little about their Goddess. “I hope Torchline has a library and more information on her. What were you going to start with?” Maybe it would be better to fill in their pages first, even though this was a treatise on their Lady? Ah, well - this is Sam’s project, she’ll leave the structure up to him.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
"...That's true." Sam said, also eager to move past it as it was indeed a very depressing topic. There were so many more devotees of the Old Gods and only one Goddess keeping the few of them there were afloat. Most days it felt like a very steep uphill battle.
Learning their Goddess' name was somehow, even though not anything he'd long yearned for, a very significant moment indeed: Sam was silent for a moment, taking in where he was as he learnt this great secret, this personal detail of the Goddess they all followed so unquestionably. "...Lleisi." He repeated in a whisper, a small smile curving through his lips. The name would certainly not go in the book - it would only be held in his heart.
"I've often wondered why she appears so young. She feels very old, wise, when she speaks to me - and when she touches you, it does not feel like a child." Sam had been held by The Voice many times and her arms had always encompassed him, hands easily had been brushed through his hair. "Still...I am so used to it now, I would not know how to see another Voice."
He doubted Torchline would hold any more information on their Goddess, but for the moment didn't discount the possibility, nodding along with the hope. "I was going to begin with a history of not just The Voice - what we know about her imprisonment, the barrier, but also us - how we were made. How each of us came to be..the ones we have lost. After all, there's not so many of us; it's hardly an impossible number to record. Then I was going to write of our weaknesses; I don't see a danger in doing so as everyone already knows them...I was hoping for it to be a guide for the newly Ascended. What do you think about that?"
Wessex knows exactly how Sam feels about her appearance. “It was strange at first, to look at someone ‘younger’ than me and see them as a Goddess. She’s so much more than her child-like appearance.” She offers a shrug. “Maybe it’s what she used to look like, however long ago.” There was that shriveled, desiccated body at the top of the Spire, and she is loathe to remember it, even now. Whatever that mortal remain was, it was just about as far from the Voice as one could get.
Musing over her brother’s plan, the only part that strikes her as unwise is the part about weaknesses. “Perhaps so long as you don’t go into the specifics up upgrades and how close we can get to fire, or how our strength in the sun eventually grows… I don’t see why not. Might be more humanizing.” Although the more she explores and lives, the more she realizes it isn’t the rest of the the Ascended that need humanizing, it’s herself that does. And their Lady. The rest are just ordinary, likable people, more or less.
“You don’t doubt Her anymore, do you?” she asks with a mild curiosity. And totally not because she needs to find this out
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
"Maybe...I suppose I might have stayed not a child but...I ascended at 17. The Voice allowed me to grow a little while longer, I suppose because I was so miserable at the time. I wonder if someone very old Ascended, if she might be able to help make them younger?" Now he was just rambling, but it was possibly a question to ask their Goddess when he went to ask clarifying questions for his book - Sam made a note on some scrap paper of it.
He nodded to Wessex's ideas about the weaknesses to include in the book. "Yes, good idea. I've noticed...over time, the sun bothers me less. It still hurts if it's direct enough, but...I feel stronger now, during the day." It had been freeing, to be able to go outside in sociable hours again.
The question caught him off guard, if only because he had not doubted The Voice in quite a while now. Sam shook his head, though went on to explain further: "I do not...agree with everything The Voice does, but...I trust that she is planning what is best for all of us, that she cares deeply for us - that she loves me. I love her, and would fight to any cost, if I had to, for her plan. So...no, I don't doubt her." It was not complete fanaticism, but Sam had more faith in the Voice now than he ever had.
They’re very much on the same page, and it’s refreshing to hear after all their differences and years spent if not in conflict, then in ignoring each other. “I’d like to go with you when you ask Her these things.” Because shouldn’t Her own demi-god know the history? Seems like a terrible waste of an opportunity not to learn and if applicable, shove it in the Old God’s followers faces. Oh you don’t know what happened? Sucks to suck, if only your Gods loved you more… It would be petty, but no one has ever described Wessex as not petty.
“Well, since we’re here, do you want to start with my story?” Again, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. And if she can remember, she might even be able to fill in a bit of Aedion’s as well. Maybe. Unfortunately, 108 and Kristopher were complete strangers and she hadn't really had any motivation to get to know them
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
"Oh, of course. A lot of it might just be extra questions about phrasing or dates, though, so I can't promise it will all be terribly interesting." Sam smiled a little bashfully, well aware his career in recording and binding was nowhere near as exciting as Wessex's time as a fighter and leader. Still, she was more than welcome if she wanted to come, whenever he felt he had gathered enough information to bother their Goddess with details.
Wessex's offer surprised him, but he nodded, going to grab some scrap paper and a pen, ready to record what she had to tell him. "Absolutely. As a...Demi God of the Voice, you should really be the first one we hear. Go on."
Oh. Now she is surprised; Wessex hadn’t thought of the order of the book, who should have a prominent position, other than their Goddess. And then of course there’s the implication of being a Demi-God, and that there could be others. Eventually. She doesn’t know if that would be nice or invoke her jealousy.
Looking down at her hands, at the flesh that hasn’t aged, that retain their callouses and their strength, occasionally dirty nails, and bloodstained palms. “Oh, ok. I hope you’re ready for a long one.” Sure. She can tell her story. Yeah, she can do that. She tries to settle into her chair, stalling for time by fidgeting, until there’s nothing more she can adjust or huff at. Taking a deep breath, Wessex begins, trying to remain as factual as possible about everything.
“I Ascended for the first time in Longheat of 308. I was showing symptoms of the illness that took my mother and sister, and after seeing them die, their prayers for help unanswered by the Old Gods, I decided I didn’t want the same fate.” It had never really been about the Old or New Gods. It had been about life, the desire to keep living. Feeling like she wasn’t ready to go. “So I was very weak when the Outlanders began to arrive and didn’t show up until I was stronger. Edy was one of the first Outlanders I met, at the base of the Spire. And we were dumb. So very dumb. I thought my speed at night and weapon skills would put me at a big enough advantage against the Spire Demon, but it didn’t. It tore me to shreds. The next thing I remember, I woke up naked in the snow of Deepfrost. Whole. A lifetime of scars removed and sporting a pair of retractable claws.” She smiles, slightly. Genuinely remembering nothing from that rebuilding period other than a woman singing, she can add nothing to the mystery of the Voice and her work on them.
“I don’t know how or why. Perhaps the Voice saw my potential and took pity on me, remembering why I had come to Her in the first place. But that resurrection sealed it for me. I owe Her my life, twice over, not only for Her generosity of a new body, but for Her faith in me.”
Rather than recapping the last two years, Wessex decides to hone in on the events that pertained most to the Ascended. “Soon after, she showed us what was outside the Bubble. Then told me to have us ready to open the Spire. That was it. Everything else was really up to us. Aedion and Lucas opened the doors.” Here, she pauses, remembering the life lost that night. “Sometimes I wish I’d done more to keep some of them with me, outside of the Spire. Or been there to protect Aedion and Kristopher. Kristopher was old, he might have been able to teach us something. Same with 108. But then without her sacrifice, we wouldn’t have gotten the barrier down. So…” She shrugs. Maybe it’s what they were made for. Maybe they just weren’t as smart. Who knows.
“Then came the LongNight where I survived the Monsters. They recognized me for what I was - Ascended and reborn, and I used that to my negotiating advantage. I think up until then, I had been the only Natural to survive Monsters getting into someone’s house.” Her mouth draws together tightly. The Monsters are still a sore point. “If there were one thing I could ask of our Lady it would be for Her to try and do something about the Monsters. Not just to help Her children, but because She no longer has need for the bodies and souls they used to take. I don’t think. Anyway, it would massively improve perception, but I know She doesn’t care about that sort of thing.” Unfortunately. Or fortunately. It’s the one of the issues she takes with the Gods - their inability to see that some of their actions just fuck with their followers’ abilities to get shit done. Are counter-productive.
“Anyway. From the beginning, the Voice seemed to want me to organize us. Mostly for organization, but then when I became Queen, in the midst of the blight, She encouraged me to soften, protect, and be more understanding. Be bright. Show everyone the advantages of being Ascended. So I tried to do that. Tried to balance the interest of the Hollowed Ground, all the fucking Outlanders and Naturals alike, and keep our family safe from Ludo and Roana. Oh, that should definitely go in the book. So protecting and guiding is more or less my main priority now, along with exploring and opening the portals.” And it’s probably important for them all to know that. Mess with any of the Ascended and the perpetrators will have Wessex to deal with.
“Um, I was part of the group at the Mathair when that shitshow went down. I think it was a tactical error on the Voice’s part to open that portal first, and an oversight on our part to follow her blindly. We also didn’t have much information regarding the state of the Spire. It seemed like the various expeditions into the basement by the Attuned and Abandoned were meant to be secretive, for their eyes only. They never took an Ascended with them. We could have done our own expeditions, but you and I both know that with only two strong Ascended, it could have been deadly.” Wessex shifts forward, eager to be done. She hates talking this much, recounting everything - even though yes, she’d volunteered to do so.
“So when the Fae blocked off the Greatwood, I turned the Spire portal and asked for volunteers to assist, but got a less than ideal team. Jigano was deceitful from the start, there only to protect the Snake Guardian and purposefully, stubbornly blind that the snake wouldn’t budge from its task to keep Ascended out of the portal. He wanted to negotiate and there wasn’t going to be any negotiation, but like always, he thought he knew best. It turned into a fight. I won, though. Removed the Guardian.” The semantics of that can be rehashed if he wants to ask clarifying questions. If there was ever an origin story for the legitimate hatred between herself and the silver-haired man, it was in that room.
“Once that was done, the Voice came to me and said she would make me brighter, lift me up a shining star to the guide the rest of the Ascended. And she said she was proud, that I had done well and proven myself.” She’s smiling again, the very memory recalling feelings of the infusion of light and power, of warmth and love. “And from there, my powers have only increased. I can stay in the sunlight. I can teleport. Take others with me when I teleport short distances. I can copy some magic. I’m faster and stronger than I’ve ever been, and I’m happy exploring and trying to connect the world.”
Yeah, that seems like a good place to end. Unless Sam has questions about specific things.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam was indeed ready for a long tale, notebook out and pen poised, eager to take notes for whatever Wessex had to tell him. He'd edit it later, of course, decide if certain parts were truly relevant, but the first part of any project was collecting all the research he could find.
He barely remembered Wessex's death at the hands of the Spire Demon, having been decidedly not involved in anything too far from his book stall at the time, but he knew he'd thought about it at the time. Hearing it from Wessex's perspective was another thing entirely and his notes were detailed, paragraphs appearing on the page as he quickly wrote with the scratch of his pen falling into a staccato rhythm.
"Yes, I remember Aedion, Lucas...108...all their deaths." Sam sadly agreed as she spoke, more mumbling to himself than anything else.
Sam too wished the Voice cared more about her image in Sanctuary. "I've been thinking we might be able to...pitch it to her, as it were, as being more about our safety than our reputation. If we are seen more favourably by the people, we run less risk of being hurt, and we will find it easier to draw in new family." It hadn't occurred to him before, but perhaps if he and Wessex were to go together, it would be enough to convince their Goddess.
He tried to stop the rise of jealousy as she described her journey then ascension to Demi-Godhood, reminding himself that they all had a place in The Voice's plan, that his was as important as anyone elses. Once Wessex had finished speaking, he had two pages full of notes and little sketches, diagrams. "Thank you. This um...this is more of a personal question, I suppose. But...how do you feel, knowing you'll live so long? That...the people we know that aren't Ascended will get old and die before we do..?"
“I’m wondering if it it’s worth asking the other demi-gods to help. See if they could get their parents on board, if we can get The Voice. Perhaps with all our powers we could, over the course of a few years, take all the Monsters out.” Though Wessex’s loyalty lies firmly with her Lady, she is a Natural first; their people have been killed for decades, the terror and anxiety sinking into their DNA in ways that the immortal Goddess might never be able to understand.
What better way to be bright than to eradicate the bane of the Hollowed Ground’s existence? “Mmmm, as the ultimate brightness, perhaps. Driving away the Monsters in the dark.” She offers a wry grin at her poor phrasing and nods in agreement. A team effort. “Maybe we should get the whole family to go.” It certainly concerns Rex, now. With more pressure, they might be able to get her to give in (like any group of siblings trying to get something out of Mother and father dearest).
Sitting with his question for a moment, the Wraith ultimately shrugs. “Not fussed about it. But I don’t have many close friends, so perhaps it’s easier for me to wrap my head around.” She levels a look at him. “You know what I did before I ascended. And I’ve died. Death is nothing to me, Sam. I think being able to actually affect the world now and make it better trumps whatever worries I may have.”
Their souls will go to Mort’s realm. She hears it’s a lovely place, why wouldn’t she want that for her non-Ascended friends?
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Wessex's plan was ambitious and Sam had no idea if it was possible, the idea felt so outlandish. "I suppose...first, you'd need to find out if there is a finite number of monsters. Or if they can...breed, or if there's more being made, somehow." He left out how this might be done.
The whole family...? Sam didn't know if he wanted to be a part of what was sure to be a rather terrifying event, with all the raw power and light involved with the task. Still, for the moment he just smiled and nodded, thinking that by next Longnight, millions of things could have happened to stop the plan from working.
Her nonplussed answer to his question was not relatable at all, Sam staring with wide eyes and wondering how on Caido she could be so casual. "..I..see. I wish I could be so calm about it."
A slow nod, knowing that Sam is inherently more cautious than she, and that in this case, caution can save lives. “I’m going to bring it up to the Voice first, because if she’s not on board, I don’t think it will go anywhere. There’s so much conflicting information, from Her, from our own experiences…” A soft no would probably bring the demi-god back with familial reinforcements (they’ve misunderstood each other regarding family involvement, which is typical, isn’t it?), but a hard no would be another story… already, she thinks they don’t reproduce in a biological sense, it’s just over a century of killing that has created more than the small group of mortals could imagine.
But, ah, on the ever-growing to-do list it goes. As soon as she gets her dragon, then she’ll go see their Lady.
Not intending to add injury to insult, Wessex chuckles at Sam’s wide-eyed gaze. “It’s probably a good think you’re not. Death is very final. In most cases. I don’t want my heartless characteristics to be the Ascended norm.” Someone else, just one would be great. But not all of them. That would be a recipe for disaster. A self-aware wolf. That’s what the Wraith is.
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
"Mhm. I don't know what she'd say, really. Whenever I suggest working with others, she doesn't seem too keen..." Sam sighed, not liking this aspect of his Goddess. He'd often found that she didn't seem to see why the humans under her care might want to get along with their neighbours and countrymen, or at least not be persecuted unecessarily.
Smiling softly he nodded, glad she didn't judge him for his fear of death, of endings. "Well, it's probably good to have a mix of opinion." Would show they weren't a brainwashed cult if someone asked, anyway, which he was always trying to push back against.
With that said Wessex quickly excused herself and Sam, as much as he had grown to like his sister, felt a little relieved - he was always worried he'd say something wrong around her. Putting his head back down to his work, he began to convert the notes he'd made of her story into actual paragraphs and tales.
