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!
I do not return to the Hollowed Ground for some time after the festival. I was not among the injured, did not know any of the deceased, and yet still I feel guilt, and grief. So I keep to myself, in the woods, in the borderlands between us. Longheat is at its peak when I return, finally venturing deep enough away from the trees to reach the settlement, the library nestled near its heart.
Inside, it is cool, the stone protecting from the onslaught of sun, and I am content to wander aimlessly, fingers tracing over the spines of books as I pass them, consider them. Nothing ever jumps out at me though, and so on the shelf they stay. On my third or fourth trawl up and down a random aisle, I find a door, stairs leading down, and pause. Hadn’t Jigano said the loreseekers used the space in the basement? And... I was now a loreseeker. It was only fair I knew what the guildhall looked like.
With a renewed pep, I start down the stairs. The stone grows cooler, enough that I flutter instead of walk, the faint buzz of my wings preceding me.
Sam had begun the work on the lore tome again and had been rather distressed to find that when looking at it with the fresh eyes of time, he was very unimpressed by his own work indeed. Usually he'd try to simply continue, but this time he thought he could not (besides, it would give him something to fill his time with) - he had begun to remake it, painstakingly copying what he'd had so far in neater words and with better illuminations, golden leaves curling around corners and knights standing between paragraphs; admittedly rather crudely drawn, but he had learnt in the style of illuminations and was not talented with illustration.
An odd sound, a buzzing instead of footsteps, caught his attention; Sam looked up from his spot at the desk to see what was causing the approaching noise. When he saw a fae enter the guildhall, he couldn't help but stare, surprised indeed to see another one of the winged people so quick. Fortuitous too, as he'd wanted to speak to one. Maybe this was the Tarasha that Jigano had spoken about?
"Hello...?" He called out, the nervousness in his voice clear. "Can I help you? This is the Loreseekers Guild, or do you know that? I-ah-I'm not up to date on all our new members."
There is a wilting flower of a man at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at me like he’s never seen a fey before, and I gently alight on the floor, my wings spread for a moment before I tuck them, subconsciously, in against my back tightly. ”Hello! I am Tarasha.” I call back brightly, reaching out to take his hand in that strange human custom. Despite the fact that he is not human.
”You’ve actually already helped me.” I smile, rubbing at my arms to fight off the dusty chill that pervades the basement. My fingers move over pink and blue and gold lines, thick and flowing over every visible bit of skin today. ”I haven’t been in the hall yet.” I laugh. Haven’t even been in the library, before this.”
The way the Fae so easily moved their wings to settle down, the colourful designs folding away...Sam had always liked his Ascended upgrades but in that moment he felt a bite of jealousy. How beautiful they were, and Tarasha must have had them from birth, simply given by the Old Gods.
It wouldn't do well for the guild for a member to immediately begin coveting wings though, so he drew his focus away. "Ah, right. Yes. I am Samuel." Sam took their hand, surprised that they so willingly gave it to him; perhaps they were not yet aware he was Ascended.
As Tarasha rubbed their arms down Sam looked them over and was surprised to find the colourful lines running along their skin; was this a Fae feature, or something special to this specific person? It was probably rather obvious he was staring as he nodded distractedly, wondering if such a thing was possible through the Voice, if she'd allow Aesthetic upgrades... "Well, welcome. If you need assist finding anything, I've been here...many many years. I can find what you need."
"Samuel." I repeat, drawing the name out like I've never heard it before, and it does sound foreign on my tongue. My hand is accepted, and I smile, glad to have gotten the strangest part of the ritual over with. I do not want to be in close contact with this man for too long though, something that is probably clear in the way I remove my hand. "I've heard of you. Though... I did not know you were... touched, like you are." It is the gentlest way I can think of to describe the corruption of the Voice, no heat in my voice, but pity in my eyes. How unfortunate it must be to have strayed so far from what was natural.
He is staring at me, and it is only because I know what he is that it makes me uncomfortable. I straighten my head, chin jutting out in what might be a challenge, and what might just be an attempt to feel more secure. "How many is many?" I ask, curious about how time flows for him compared to me. I get the feeling many really isn't too long.
Tarasha didn't seem to be cold towards him, not quite, but they certainly weren't warm. Awkwardly putting his hand back by his side as it was swiftly left empty he tilted his head. "Touched...? You mean Ascended? I suppose you probably haven't met many Ascended." Sam tried to smile, though it was weak; he was sure Tarasha did not have good opinions of his people. "You could ask me questions about it, if you'd like."
He looked up as he tried to do the maths to work out how long ago he'd come to the Atheneum, tapping a foot. "Ummm. I think...well, over ten, at least. Maybe about fifteen?" Long enough that he could be considered an expert on the shelves, at least.
