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!
It was both a relief and an odd sense of loss to see the scar gone, that physical manifestation of a portion of his guilt wiped clean from her skin. "Ah. That... yes. That makes a little too much sense," he admitted wryly, though his smile was softened by old sadness. "I took the weight of one world on my shoulders, once. I... didn't know how to set the burden down when I came here. I wanted to be... to try and become what I had been before it all... tarnished me." He grew quiet, raising his hand to the sky, fingers spread to watch the returning sunlight stream through the spaces in between. "If I make mistakes, if I stumble and let the cracks show... what reason will people have to trust me?"To stay with me? went unsaid, but it hummed silently in the Attuned bond, less words than a feeling of wistful pessimism.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, lips twisting in a rueful smile. "I'm learning how wrong it is to think that way. To place all my worth only on my successes, and let my failures chip away at it... it's a wonder there's anything left of me. But it's hard, Ama. Gods least fortunate is it hard." Something he knew that she knew, better able than most to empathize with that way of thinking.
Her tail tossed water that Isuma fluttered away from, playfully scolding the ottermaid as the gryphon found a new perch back in the trees from which to watch her little family. "You absolutely do," he agreed with the idea of Amalia helping herself, but her question brought a chuckle to his lips as he piled his hair on top of his head in a twining crown, then sank down into the hot colored water near her. "More than I should. When I spent my years wandering after... after we killed one would-be god and raised up another, I gave up on caring what people thought. I gave up on people... and on myself. But here, in the Grounds, I've found a home. People I love again. People whose good opinion means the world to me," the bard admitted with a wry smile for the baker. "Not all people. But there are so many more who matter now than I thought possible, two short years ago."
She listens to him intently, quiet and earnest, her dark eyes searching for shapes in the wisps of clouds that linger far above. Like many Outlanders he has lived more robustly than she could ever dream, experienced more than she could understand.
And now he is here, in a world that doesn't much feel like hers anymore, but which she is eager to reclaim. Still mostly submerged in the water, she watches with some amusement as he neatly ties his hair; her own golden plait is a messy disaster, throughly soaked in salt and sea. They've both changed so much in so short a time. Would they recognize themselves, looking back two years? One?
"Do you think... Is what Maea said true? That there's another you still back in your world?" Again Amalia slaps her tail in facsimile of a tapping foot. "What do you think he's doing now? Which you do you think would be the better one?"
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
Amalia listened with an earnestness that made it easy to keep talking and say things he might not normally let slip. They had both changed so much from who they had once been, and though difficulties and awkwardness remained as they tried to find new footing in their friendship Jigano was reassured that they both were still trying. She had asked to be treated as an equal and he tried to give her that trust.
Mention of Maea brought a sigh to his lips, both exasperated and fond, as he looked over to the baker with a wry smile. "I think Maea believes that it's true. Without knowing the source of her vision, though, I'm not entirely sure I trust it. It seems... mmm. Almost too convenient. A way to make Outlanders doubt themselves and to open another divide between Naturals and Outlanders. After all, if Outlanders are just copies, if we aren't 'real' people, what rights do we have?" He shook his head. "The Voice is powerful. I've experienced that power myself and I won't deny it. But that she can create souls, even copies of them... no. If she could make souls as Vi does, there would be far more Ascended in this world. Hell, even if she just made copies of her existing children she could swell her numbers exponentially." Terrifying thought, and one that sent a shiver through him even in the warm water of the geyser field.
"But if Maea is right? Mmm. I'd still be running from the past, I think. Still moving south, working my way through the kingdoms of Avistan... maybe finding a ship east for Tian Xia, where my ancestors were from." He shrugged lightly, but there was an echo of old pain in his smile as he tilted his head back to watch Isuma amid the greenery. "Still walling my heart off, I expect, hiding behind fear of losing anyone else and refusing to stay in any one place long enough to risk making friends." A sigh stirred a stray, damp tress as he flicked a little water idly at Amalia's tapping tail. "For all the pain and sorrow Caido has given me, it's taught me that I'm weakest when I'm alone. I'm better for having bonded to Isuma, fallen in love, and learned to trust people again."
The idea that Outlanders wouldn't be real people has never crossed her mind. Amalia blinks, frowning at this concept, though Jigano's follow-up comments have weight. There would be signs if the Voice was somehow able to reproduce actual life, wouldn't there? And if she could...
The implications are somewhat dizzying. It's enough to distract her briefly from Jigano's tale, though she regains her senses and tunes back in as he shrugs. What a strange and exciting life he must have lived before this place - what strange and exciting lives they must all have lived, she thinks, looking back down at her tail.
Shifting her body back to legs, Amalia tucks them beneath herself. "I'm glad." She smiles at Jigano, though her eyes are still troubled, lost in a new avenue of thought. "I should... probably go home, soon. It's getting late. Do you want to go back with me, or are you staying here?"
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
Amalia's smile was kind, but her gaze was distant once more and Jigano found himself hesitating, caught between questions and whether to give space or hold tight. She spoke again before he could come to a decision and he glanced over at the sun as it was beginning to lower towards the west, nodding ruefully. "No, I should go, too. I let Rory know I might be late today, but I'd rather not eat dinner in the barn tonight," he added with a chuckle. Not that the farmer was likely to do that to him, but Jigano was perfectly capable of guilting himself into a custom punishment for his perceived sins.
He rose from the water, shedding his scales as the colored liquid ran from them and shaking himself dry like a canine once he reached shore. Isuma chirruped happily and came winging over now that threats of splashes were behind them. "Miss Amalia, I would be honored to walk home with you," he declared gallantly, sweeping her a grin and a bow and offering his arm once she had joined him on dry land again. "Do you know what you'll be having for dinner tonight? Perhaps dining with the handsome General?" he teased gently.
She's half-listening as she rises from the water, stepping on now-human feet toward the waiting shore. It is easy tondry yourself when you can adopt the fur of an aquatic creature, she's learned; the otter hair that covers her suddenly wicks away most of the remaining moisture from her skin.
Still pensive, Amalia takes Jigano's arm somewhat absently when it is offered. She manages to flash him a smile at least, coloring up as he teases her about her dinner plans. "Yes. If he isn't busy." Each of them has their own lives and preoccupations, though they tend to come together at least for dinner.
Her attention fully on Jigano now, Amalia tilts her head. "Now that more of Caido is open... Do you think you'll stay in the Grounds? A lot of people are leaving, these days..."
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
She sidestepped his teasing with grace and poise, though the hint of a blush on her cheeks pleased the bard greatly to see her so happy with something in her life. There was so much that weighed upon her slender shoulders that any joy Deimos could bring her was appreciated. His own sleeves were unfortunately a bit damp, but the early Leafchange warmth of Torchline would soon see them dried as the pair began their stroll back towards the portal, and Amalia turned a more interesting question on him.
But not a difficult one, as he smiled at his friend and colleague and gave a slight shake of his head. "I love going new places and meeting new people, but the Hollowed Grounds has become my home. Rory is there. My Guild is there. You and Sam are there. The friends I've lost... their memories are there, too. And I put myself forward to be an advisor in the government, so I should probably see that through this time," he added ruefully. "Traveling to warn new regions of the Voice and trying to track what the Ascended are up to will keep me on the move to some degree - and Rory has expressed an interest in traveling, too," he added, almost an afterthought given their recent conversation on the porch. "But I don't think I'll ever be gone for very long." He reached out to snag a large, bright red flower to tuck behind his ear before he looked back to Amalia with his smile widening once more. "Besides, we still have much to explore and do there. The Underground still hasn't been fully mapped, I suspect the Spire isn't done giving up its mysteries yet, and we have quite a ways to go rebuilding bridges with the Fae. Have you had a chance to meet Tarasha yet?"
Listening sagely as Jigano lists his reasons for staying, she nonetheless cannot help the wrinkle of her nose when he brings up being an adviser now. What on earth convinced her to agree to that particular plan, let alone fight for more authority? Being stuck in bed and feeling helpless left her itching for some sense of control... but Mort's heart, if she hadn't chosen the worst possible way to gain it.
"Do you think it's wise to use the portals?" Amalia quirks her lip thoughtfully, glancing at Jigano for some amount of insight. "Safrin... she said they strengthen people's belief in the Voice, and it's true. As much as I love being able to travel, I feel guilty every time." She bites her lip, a child looking for confirmation of her actions.
There is a lot to do in the grounds, and Amalia nods her head. "I did meet Tarasha. She was... much more agreeable than Delah." Wryly, the girl shakes her head. "I don't think those are bridges we'll be rebuilding any time soon."
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
"Mmm. I don't know," he admitted, glancing aside to Amalia with a thoughtful frown. "After what happened in the Spire, with Wessex... They still make my skin crawl to go through them, but just because we stop using them doesn't mean the Ascended will," he added, shoulders slumping a little. "The gods gave us the job of making sure no more evil was done through them. No more blood spilled to open the damned things. If we huddle in the Hollowed Grounds and let the Voice's agents have free rein, we won't be able to fulfill that task." He straightened, his wry smile not holding much humor as he tilted his head at Amalia. "Damned if we do, damned if we don't, isn't it?"
"Delah set that bar pretty low," the bard pointed out dryly. "But Tarasha is lovely. They made me a basket to catch the sun in," he added, a little wistfully as he remembered the time he had used it, Adam and Coffee at his side. "And Delah might be a lost cause, but we can still build small bridges with individuals. Tarasha, Eliza, Hazel, even Jiao," he added with a wry chuckle for the somewhat abrasive seamstress. "Any friends we can make, we'll need, I suspect." He hummed thoughtfully, remembering a more difficult time, and he slanted a cautious look to his friend. "Have you been back down to the underground library since we left it?"
Far from comforting, Jigano's assessment only deepens her discontent. Thinking to the little orb back in her house makes the Shield clench her jaw. "It's not as though we did much to prevent the last one," she remarks dryly. "Maybe there's no blood being spilled now, but in the future? When people come to rely on the Voice's creations again, and don't expect them to strike back?" The image Safrin painted sits heavy in her mind.
"They," Amalia self-corrects, wincing at her earlier mistake. The other names mean nothing to her. "I've met Jiao... She didn't like Remi." A wry smile crosses her lips, curling as they come closer to the town. "But she was very helpful in making my puppet show."
An eyebrow raises when he mentions the underground, not particularly wanting to discuss it but feeling cornered now. "No... But that's why I went to see Tarasha. Safrin asked me to move the books to the Undercroft." She doesn't look at Jigano, but remembering keenly their last expedition underground and the lingering strain it placed on their friendship.
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
04-14-2020, 02:13 PM (This post was last modified: 04-14-2020, 02:13 PM by Jigano.)
"No," he agreed with a sigh, still feeling guilty over their previous failure. "It would help if we knew how they go about opening a new one. It's hard to stop them when we don't even know what to look for." Jigano's frown deepened as he considered the conundrum, then sighed. "For what it's worth, I think you're right that using them is a slippery slope. But... I don't think I'm wrong, either. A few people avoiding the portals isn't going to stop the Ascended from opening more. And these new regions - new to us, at least - aren't used to the Ascended or the Voice anymore. If there's no one to try warning them what to watch out for, the Voice will find little opposition in her recruiting and conversion, and Halovians and Torchliners won't see any problems in using these new conveniences to trade and travel. Especially when they might mean the difference between life and death come Deepfrost." For Grounders, especially, but Halovians as well, who would be more easily able to get fresh food and supplies from Torchline now.
Jigano let the correction pass without comment, though his lips quirked up at Amalia's recounting of Jiao's opinions. "She can be hard to please," he agreed with a chuckle. "But your puppet show was a great deal of fun. I'm glad we could help with it." Blighted though most of them had been at the time. He picked their way around a large rock the path curved around, smile lightening a bit as the colorful walls and roofs of the tropical town shone in the late afternoon light.
It was his turn to raise a brow at hearing of her errand with Tarasha, but he nodded thoughtfully at Safrin's request. "Tarasha and I have spoken of similar things, though without Safrin's input," he admitted with a rueful twist of his smile. "I'd suggested a book trade between the Atheneum and the Undercroft. Copies of books, at least, since I figured the Fae wouldn't want to give away their originals. I told Tarasha about out trip to the Underground and the books there, too... they said someone had already spoke to Delah about it and Delah hadn't liked the idea though," he added with an uncomfortable shrug.
"It was me. I spoke to Delah." Her voice is dry, smile flat. Honestly, Amalia is surprised he didn't jump to that assumption automatically. If there's any human particularly skilled at bothering Delah, it's her. "It's not that she disliked the idea... But it was Wessex was still queen, and her desire to help us was somehow even less than usual." She shrugs expressively, turning wry eyes to the sky.
"I meant to go back after the borders opened again, but..." Well. She didn't need to be tell him how trying the last couple seasons had been. "But Tarasha agreed to help me move them now. So I'm planning on doing that before Deepfrost, if I can."
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
Jigano nodded ruefully, because he should have guessed it was Amalia, but he was making an effort to not jump to assumptions quite so often. At least where she and his other friends were concerned. Everyone else... well, it was a work in progress. "I understand Delah's feelings on that particular matter," he murmured, the hostilities between himself and Wessex hardly secret at this point.
"But now we finally have a chance to breathe for a change," he murmured, following her lead in glossing over all of the pain and loss and challenges they had faced since the last year's adventurous delve beneath the Ruins, and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Her plan to get things moving before Deepfrost was met with an agreeable nod, but his expression turned wistful as he glanced over at the Shield with unusual hesitance. "Would it be too awkward if I offered to help?" he asked carefully. "I would like to see it through, what we started together all those seasons ago. And... I would dearly love the chance to see the Undercroft. I don't know that Delah will ever lift the restrictions again in my lifetime, aside from this." He paused, then gave a wry shrug. "If this will even qualify."
The squeeze against her hand does little to ease the anxiety welling inside her. Amalia knows what he's going to ask before he does it; it's something she's agonized over for some time, whether or not to bring him on this venture. Biting her lip, Amalia does not dare meet Jigano's eyes.
"I... don't know." Releasing his hand, the Shield wraps her arm uncomfortably around herself. "I would want your help, but... it's a task from Safrin." The goddess' opinion of the bard is as well known to Amalia as his opinion on her. "And after last time..." She shrugs helplessly, remembering their fight, the rift it had created. She can't imagine losing him again, not so soon, and though she knows he can more than hold his own against danger, it is not physical conflict she fears will break them apart.
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
