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!
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
Safrin hums a note of agreement, for nothing Amalia says is wrong hence the admin's attempt to curb the number of Outlanders we have. "I find it...so amusing that they think having come from another world lets them make judgements about this one. How they swept in with their plans for the Grounds, how easily they tore down the barrier because they couldn't understand the sacrifices made to keep it up. Even now I hear it in them, wanting to change this world. Wanting to curb it to their own expectations." But she is not a mortal, her power largely unquestioned, unlike Amalia.
Safrin snorts at this. "Friend? Frey doesn't have friends. They have toys, same with Ludo." The mention of Ronin however stills the goddess, and she raises a brow at the baker. Her eyes are free of judgement, and perhaps there is an inkling of remorse there, or at least of understanding. 'When he died I selfishly wanted him close." Safrin replies, her shrug seeming all the more human for the way she appears to cow slightly. "Is that what you want, Amalia? Some sort of...token gesture that none can question? To call me friend, or carry around some piece of me, or to know I'd keep you from all you love and the second-life you'd lead in Mort's realms, to bury you amongst the stars?"
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
To hear Safrin speak her own thoughts about the Outlanders is an enormous weight off Amalia's chest, one that's been pressing on her for weeks, months and seasons and over a year. "They justified their actions - taking down the barrier, freeing the Voice - without ever asking us how we felt. Without knowing what it meant." There is anger and bitterness in her voice, frustration and tiredness. How hard had they worked to warn them, to prevent it all?
Where would they be, if the barrier hadn't fallen?
"Do you have friends?" Amalia turns her face to the goddess, openly curious about this idea. Do gods have friends? Are they friends with each other? She has no illusions that she and other mortals are merely blips on a cosmic timeline to them...
Aside from Ronin, anyway.
The drops her head again at the questions, the humanity of the goddess and the vulnerability she shows. Bringing her knees up to her chest, Amalia rests her chin upon them and sighs. "No... well, yes," she admits, arms wrapping around herself. "I would love to know I'm important enough to you for that. But... just having a purpose, knowing I'm following Vi's plan... that's what I really want. I know I'm only a mortal, I can never understand what it is to be you, that my life is nothing compared to yours, but... I'm happiest when I'm doing your work. Vi's work. It makes the world make more sense." A smile lines her coral lips; she turns shining eyes to Safrin's face. "I'm grateful for all you've given me, Safrin. I... I love you."
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
"They all played right into the Voice's plans, knowingly or not, and yet now act like they don't owe their very existences to her." It was laughable, really. "They continue to do it now by reaping the rewards of the portals. And the spheres you carry...I take it you've noticed you were the only natural selected?" She raises a brow at that.
Tugging in a breath, Safrin considers. "An odd question, but I suppose I understand why you ask of it. It's rather hard for me to have friends, what with who I am. Friendship often implies a sort of..equality. You can impart obligations onto the other, can be cross when they let you down. The same can't quite be said of those in relationship to me. But in my own way, I do have friends." Reaching out to softly push back a pale strand of hair, the goddess smiles warmly. "And I consider you among them." She adds adoringly.
Pausing a touch and listening, Safrin nods with perhaps latent understanding. "I never thought you were the sort to need an official task." She says, her voice free of judgement. Truly, she hadn't seen that in Amalia's heart until just now, but perhaps it made sense. With all these Outlanders and their lofty ideals, their powers and strength beyond that which was previously seen within the barrier...she could understand Amalia's need to be elevated. "No one else alive has a title given to them by Vi. He doesn't offer his approval lightly but...I think he has as of yet more plans for you, Amalia." She said with a knowing and secretive smile. Save your MP you idiot.
"I love you too." The goddess agreed, tugging Amalia to her that she might wrap her arms around her, the embrace somehow both maternal and strangely sister-ly as well.
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
"...Yes." Yes, she'd noticed her uniqueness among the holders of the spheres: none of the others naturals to their home, keepers of their history and their ways. She thinks of her own, tucked in her pocket, and reaches down unconsciously to roll it between her fingers. She'd thought it would mean so much, change everything, but the others hadn't seemed to care.
Te be considered among Safrin's friends, as much as one could be, is a truly awesome and incredible thing. And then to be told she is approved of by Vi-! To be so after all her missteps, all the ways she's failed, well... Amalia has to hold in a gasp, her face split in a bashful smile, cheeks hot with happiness and surprise. Sniffling a little, she reaches her own arms around the goddess' waist, leaning into the embrace with the abandon and joy of a child.
It is only after a minute that she draws away, wiping moisture off her cheek with the palm of her hand. "I'm sorry." But there's a laugh in her voice, happiness and relief. "I... I didn't even ask if I could get you anything. Tea or, or cake, or..." Amalia trails off, suddenly realizing she has no idea if goddesses actually eat.
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
'One might think that it isn't just the Outlanders who are convinced of their own prowess..." Whatever it was Safrin might be suggesting about her elevated kin, she shrugged it off, leaving it for Amalia to ponder on her own.
"Never be sorry. This is who you are Amalia. You can sit up straight and put on a brave face, but you'll never for a second fool us into thinking you aren't as perfectly mortal as we made you to be. If we wanted perfect creatures, we'd have made them." And they had, in their own ways. One only needed to look into the realm of Rae's imagination to see that perfection had already been achieved with the various creatures therein.
Chuckling, Safrin shakes her head. "No, no. I'm alright." She says, pressing a kiss to the top of Amalia's head before leaning back, the table suddenly between them once again.
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
The space between them feels much less vast than it had mere minutes before, the table now a bridge rather than a barrier, a space they can share instead of a sign of separation. Though she might have taken the refusal as rejection earlier, now she is too content to be hurt; she smiles somewhat awkwardly, color on her cheeks. "Okay." It had been worth a try.
But there is something sticking in Amalia's mind, a thorn that burrows through her contented haze. Crossing her legs beneath her on the bench, the girl begins to anxiously trace patterns on the worn tabletop, lip between her teeth. "Safrin... earlier, you said the Voice had fallen off the path. Will you tell me more about her? And the wars? And I heard about something from a woman in Halo - the, the Great Clatacysm? Does that have to do with her, too?"
03-09-2020, 04:11 PM (This post was last modified: 03-09-2020, 04:11 PM by Safrin.)
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
'I had not expected a history lesson to be how I spent my afternoon, but I am happy enough to oblige. If you can find us some tea to drink. Something dark, and with honey." As Amalia gets up to fetch the things Safrin has asked for, the goddess clears her throat and leans elegantly back in the chair.
"The Voice was once just a girl. She grew up in the capitol city from what I can remember. Quite clever, but perhaps not so remarkable other than that. She became a hybrid in her later years, growing ever more powerful. Her magic seemed boundless, even to us at the time, though we thought little of it. Different mutations of abilities, the likes of which I'm sure you've seen in some of your friends." These being custom magics, of course. "She started to experiment...to try and infuse her magic into other things. Objects at first, then plants and bugs, and finally people. She began to mine and create metals, working with them such as no one had before, creating machines that could carry out tasks all on their own...She kept people from dying. She created new life. She changed Rae's designs. We warned her several times, Vi himself did as well, but she'd not listen. She said if Caido had a problem then Caido could bring it up with her."
By now the tea was served, and Safrin took a sip.
"You see, at first the Voice used her many talents to help others. But then she grew selfish, turning inwards and only listening to her own council. It was at about that time she was thrown out of the Capitol, and under their orders nearly all the other territories were told to turn her away. So she created...well, built herself her own allies. But even her creations required sustenance, which is how the first wars began. It wasn't long until we had to become involved, which is what led to the Cataclysm. "
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
She smiles half-apologetically at Safrin, but her enthusiasm to learn and deep seated curiosity outweigh her anxiety about asking too much of the goddess today. Rising obediently, the Shield goes to collect her personal favorite tea mix, black leaves mixed with cardamom and pepper to create a spicy, aromatic combination.
She listens avidly as she works, utterly fascinated with the tale unfolding. A million questions are forming in her mind: the capitol? Experiments? Putting magic into people? "Was she trying to create abandoned?" The roles of the gods, taken into mortal hands... Amalia shivers at the thought.
The tea is dark and aromatic when she pours it into mugs, setting her nicest one and a pot of honey on the table in front of Safrin. With them she adds a plate of scones, lavender and lemon made earlier that day. Retaking her seat across from the goddess, Amalia furrows her brow in rapt attention. "Machines... Like the Spire Demon? Why? And what... What did they need for sustenance?"
And then there is that word again. Cataclysm. "What was it?" Amalia asks softly. "What did she do?"
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
"In a way, you might say that. Magic was...weaker, back then you might say. The elemental abilities were rife, but the more complex versions you see today? Control of storms, creation of items embued with magic? That did not come until later. Rae as you can imagine simply sat back and watched these changed happen." Safrin scowled a touch at this, her animosity towards her fellow herald Frey apparently also included their monarch as well.
The honey leaves the pot in a water-like stream that flows upwards and into Safrin's cup. Reaching out, the goddess interrupts the flow with a finger, bringing it to her lips and sighing with pleasure at the sweet taste of it. "Sort of. That creature came much later. Earlier versions were meant to help with harvests, to aid in catching fish, to wash dishes or clothes." Safrin shrugs. "Next came the portals."
Raising a brow at this relatively naive question, Safrin paused, eyes dark over the rim of her cup. "You've seen for yourself what sort of sustenance the ascended require." She replied. "They could survive on her alone, but of course...much as she might like to lead everyone to believe otherwise, she is not all powerful. She cannot be everywhere her creations might need, and so there are...alternatives for them." The alternatives being the blood of Rae's creations.
"In short, she left us no choice. She wanted this world for herself, threatening to create a divide so great that not even Caido could bridge it. The war was Vi's idea, and despite his gentle nature, Mort agreed as well. Rae neither agreed nor disagreed, though aided the efforts in the end. The world was nearly destroyed, torn into pieces."
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
The original Ascended, it seems to Amalia, were an entirely different sort of thing. Machines to aid the work of mortals, to serve and help and contribute? It feels wildly removed from her current concept of converted humans made mechanical.
She drops her head as Safrin pauses, knowing the question is naive but still hoping for an answer other than the one she expects. "Blood," the Shield whispers quietly, glancing back up to meet the goddess' gaze and swallowing down her horror. "A new species of predator that never got old or sick, or even tired..." The idea is terrifying.
The War. For so long Amalia has believed war to be the purview of other lands. Caido is peaceful, free of such malcontent - sure, they have their differences, their conflicts, but war? "Is that why everything's separate, now? The elemental storms, and the mountains around Halo- because the world was torn apart?
"How strong had the Voice become, that all the Old Gods were needed to defeat her? How do we keep it from happening again?"
03-11-2020, 03:04 PM (This post was last modified: 03-13-2020, 02:57 PM by Safrin.)
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
"Indeed. And yet they will always rely on her...it is their greatest weakness, her own hubris." This is, of course, laughable, coming from Safrin, but at least the lady of the stars had never shied away from her own faults. Not this one, anyways.
Solemnly Safrin nods. "The mountains were a way to heal the scar and to hold the world together. It is why Caido sits at the top of it, watching over all that nothing like this might go unseen again." So the stories say anyways, and Safrin's doubtful expression hints at this.
Folding her fingers together, Safrin levels an earnest stare towards the baker, before shaking her head sadly. "Her strength comes from her...unpredictability. There is nothing in the world quite like her. Not even we are like her, really, and of course she guards her secrets very closely. Most of what we know about her I've just shared with you. As a girl, we know more or less about her upbringing, but once this...ascencion began, the flow of knowledge trickles to a halt."
As for how to prevent it again? Not even Safrin knows.
"For now it seems we are...watching. And waiting." The Guardian Spheres deployed again, Caido absent....what else is there to do?
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
Amalia continues to listen raptly, fingers pressed around her mug as the spicy aroma fills the shop. That Caido sits atop the mountains doing nothing but watching feels strangely disappointing, though she tries to keep those emotions from her face. She would rather be like Vi, she thinks: taking the action to save their world, to protect the life within.
And when you failed? a quiet voice asks, cruel and curled in the back of her mind. But Amalia does not answer.
And then there is the portal guardian business. Plucking the sphere from its place in her pocket, the places it on the table between them. "Ronin... He said that he wouldn't use the portals anymore. But nobody else seems to care, even the others - Remi and Phoebe and Jigano. Is he right? Does using the portals strengthen the Voice? And if not... What are we supposed to do with these?"
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
Safrin looks at the sphere with a disinterested stare. "I think you'll find that Ronin won't be able to help himself." She said with a light shrug. "Well, I suppose the answer to that depends on what you mean by strengthen. Physically, magically, no, the use of them does not...confer power back to her in any way. But it does reinforce her usefulness, the more everyone uses them and relies on them."
Shifting her gaze back towards the sphere, the goddess raised a brow in response to thoughts not said, and shrugged. "I think you were told to watch..and make sure there were no more deaths, weren't you?"
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
"Nobody died from the blight, either," Amalia points out, frowning down at the sphere unhappily. "That's the argument the Ascendeds make. Nobody died, so it's all forgivable. But I don't think I can ever forgive what it did to the people here, and to the Greatwood, and to you."
Taking a scone from the plate, Amalia begins to break it apart into small bites - more to give her hands something to do than out of any real hunger. There has been something on her mind, a conversation with Sam. "My... brother, is Ascended." Amalia stumbles over the word; it feels funny on her tongue. "He wants to meet a herald. To ask them questions about the past. If I brought him... would you speak to him?"
