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'd rather that than you, Bastien thought immediately, wanted to lash it out: he didn't care about the public, not when it came to them or his wife, not when he had to lose so much for them. The only thing that stopped him from saying it was the knowledge that neither of them would believe it: his lifes work was about the people, lifting their spirits with art and cushioning their sorrows with his revelries, just as Rexanna served them from her throne.
They had never really spoken in depth about his 'funeral' since it had happened; he supposed that was probably a bit odd, given what a...chaotic time in their early relationship it had been, but it had been something he'd not wanted to dwell on. Honestly partly because he was embarrassed about it, something that Rexanna's words hit directly on and he frowned, let out a sigh that was more irritation than anything else.
"Alright then, Rexanna - I will not pretend. Please tell me how a funeral for a man at the time you barely knew, where you mourned for all of five minutes, affected you; but before you do--" He held up a finger. "--Consider how I feel every time I see you come home bloodied and broken and hurt as my wife. Not as a woman I like, not as someone I know, but my other half. Here and ruined and left for me to pick up the pieces."
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
They both had a hand in helping people, helping the public. And while Bastien’s lifestyle wasn’t quite so public as hers, it certainly was a needed outlet. Something for people to spring hope into, to focus on when nothing else seemed right or okay. So she’s thankful when he doesn’t prolong that train of thought, momentarily, before it gets worse.
And then, asks her to explain why it had bothered her. Her lips part until he continues, finger pointed up, effectively causing her to clamp her lips shut, verdant stare boring into Bastien as if it had become some sort of realization. And she steps back, shaking her head, unable to stop the tears from brimming in her eyes, looking away from him back to the wall, to the canvases around the area, everything else but him.
“Maybe I cared so much at first because you were the first man that didn’t want me for what I could give you.” She says quietly, sadly. “In Halyven and Asciend I was nothing more than a broodmare or a scapegoat. And when I ran, from my husband, I escaped so many times by giving them a piece of me every time.” Her voice shakes and she reaches up to run a hand through her dark hair, shoulder length waves falling about her neck. “Maybe… Maybe I thought it was some sort of atoning for letting my city perish because I was too selfish to take the punishment myself.” She takes a shaking breath she doesn’t need, feeling her heart twisting in her chest. “I’m sorry I put you through it. All of it.”
When Rexanna first raised her hand and opened her mouth to speak Bastien was ready to be incensed further by whatever she had to say, but then found he could do nothing but silently stare at the words she did speak, face slowly falling. Immediately when she stopped talking he stepped forward, opening his arms to take her in close and stroke her hair, feeling pricks of tears in his eyes as he pressed his cheek to her head.
"I am sorry, my love. I should not have pressed this: what a fool. Of course it was painful - of course! Everything can be." He pulled back to hold her shoulders and look into her eyes, feeling more and more guilty for beginning this fight as the moments continued. "You will be a fantastic mother and I know you will do whatever you can to come home to me and our child; My God, I love you for your bravery. What am I saying!" Bastien shook his head at himself, tsk'ing and sighing. "Will you forgive me?"
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
She begins to break, as he reaches those points of her self-consciousness, illuminating them in ways she hasn’t had done in quite some time. She thinks she’s stronger than this, to back down this way, but she’s tired and weak and exhausted, and Bastien’s literally the last person she wants to go tooth and nail with. So when he comes over, she shudders another feeling down her spine, sorrow slipping through her mask. His arms are there, however, taking her in and she molds to him in her sorrow and shame, pressing her face against his chest.
She wants to tell him to not apologize, because he’s right… But she can’t find the words in the tightness of her throat, and so she buries within him a bit more until he pulls her away and holds her shoulders – looking into her eyes as she looks back into his own. And it’s not worth more of the argument, she doesn’t think, to tell him the facts of how terrible of a mother she could be. “You don’t have to apologize.” She manages, reaching for him with her hands to pull him close. “Will you forgive me?” She asks quietly, softly.
Rexanna's hand successfully pulled Bastien as close as she wanted to and he gently stroked down her wrist, closing his eyes as he leaned his face into her palm. "There is little to forgive, love. ...You know..." With his usual humour beginning to return in his eyes he gave a soft laugh and smiled at her. "...In a year of marriage, one falling out is a wonderful record to have."
Taking in a steadying breath (maybe his lungs didn't need it, but his emotions sure did) he tried to let go of the tension in his body and turned to look at the painting on the wall, half finished as it was. "Perhaps...we could leave the rest of this for another day. We should not do too much after all, when we are weakened as we are."
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
The sensation of Bastien’s hand trailing down her wrist, his stubbled face beneath her palm, has her sighing around the lump in her throat – verdant gaze searching his ochre ones with a shaking, simmering sadness that glimmers in her gaze and the way she runs her thumb along his cheek. “Okay.” She begins, pausing as she focuses on what he has to say, the smile, the laugh… And the tension eases a small amount from her tired state. “That’s true.” She agrees with a small weak smile.
As Bastien begins to survey the room, she leans into him a bit, hoping to rest her body against his side – feeling incredibly needy and touchy throughout all of this, even if she couldn’t quite feel as well as she once could. “Are you sure it won’t get splotchy? Perhaps we should finish the solid sections just in case?” She asks, tilting her head up to look at him. He was the expert, after all.
Rexanna gave him a smile; while it was a small one and she was clearly still shaken, it was a sign that things might be ok. Easily he let her lean into his side, put an arm around her and gently held her hip, squeezing her in a little closer as he looked around again at what they had done of the mural so far.
"My Darling, surely you have known me well enough to know I believe nothing is a mistake in art. The splotches, if there are some, will tell the tale of how we painted this room and the time we took for breaks, the tiredness we had before our child: all a part of the piece's history." He gestured around the walls as he said this for emphasis, gliding his hand around the image.
Besides, he was beginning to feel tired, something that had become foreign to him in the last year but now that the Voice had taken their energy, felt like a near constant state. "I think it might do us good to lay down and rest for a while before we come back to it. It will ease our stress...and chance of yelling at each other, mm?" Bastien said with a slight laugh, looking to Rex.
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
Bastien squeezes her closer, and she takes a deep inhale that she doesn’t need, slowly exhaling it out through her nose as she leans a bit more into him, scanning the wall briefly before her emerald gaze flickers up toward Bastien. “That’s true.” She offers easily, her small smile growing a bit brighter with that – the idea of the story it might tell. Things didn’t have to be perfect. One thing she needed to remember.
And she turns to face him a bit more at his next suggestion, dipping her head slightly as she wrinkles her nose, a hum of a snicker leaving her as the mood brightens. “Ah yes, rest our tongues until the next one?” She chimes, squeezing his arm lightly. “What… A year from now? It’s almost our anniversary. We take things slow, don’t we?” She muses with a soft smile.
"Besides, we would not have gotten it all done in a day. I have some mighty plans for this room." Plans that could wait until later though, Bastien going to lead Rexanna out of the room and shut the door behind them, postponing the project for another time. He had never been a lazy man, but at the moment every fiber of his being desperately wanted to lay down and he wasn't going to deny himself that given the circumstances.
Walking down the corridor to their bedroom, he nodded at her question. "It must be my European heritage. We did always like our riposo." Though admittedly he had never been one for many afternoon naps, normally dedicating his time instead to paintings that needed to be done or, on particularly cursed days, figures he had to work on. In fact, one of the best things of coming to Caido was the lack of currency here: no books to balance would have once felt like a dream.
Sitting on their bed, guiding Rex to sit next to him, he went to embrace her properly, rocking just slightly back and forth as he held her. Their bedroom was a menagerie of colours and trinkets, the walls half-painted with designs Bastien made up whenever he felt like it: a mess of sorts, but a bohemian one that he felt very comfortable in. "Do you think we should hold some kind of event for the anniversary? After all, not that many could attend our wedding, with the Blight..."
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
“Of course you do.” She murmurs to him, taking his hand to walk out of the room, though the smile that edges her lips is brighter than it was before. And she lets him guide her while they walk toward the bedroom, prepared to rest and relax, try to recoup all the energy lost into painting the wall and the argument that followed. When was the last time she had a moment in the middle of the day just to herself? Between figuring out the things needed to be done in the grounds, hearing out thoughts and processes of everything and the like… It was all daunting, exhausting, and with this at least she could manage that, considering what was about to embrace their lives.
Bastien reaches the bed and pulls her in to sit beside him, and she does – drawing one leg up to fold beneath her as she does and leans into his touch, melting away all the previous worries as he rocks her. Her verdant eyes close as she wraps her arms tightly around him, connecting at her wrists as she hears the vibration of his voice through his chest. “We could?” She hums quietly, perhaps a small party of sorts..? But then the thought of their child comes back to the forefront of her mind, and she lifts her head to look up at his face, tilting her head back a bit to press a kiss to his jaw. “Perhaps an anniversary and birthday announcement?” She comments, a bit sheepishly, imagining that they might have their child by then.
04-22-2020, 11:18 AM (This post was last modified: 04-22-2020, 11:19 AM by Bastien.)
Kid, I feel like yelling
Ring the bell and bang the drum
Bastien laughed softly, shrugging. He knew he was prone to making everything a flamboyant event, but it at least kept life exciting. It was how he managed to be content staying in the Sanctuary most of the time, by making the life he did have more vibrant through sheer will. It would serve him well when they had a child to care for, he hoped.
Smiling as Rexanna kissed his jaw he thought on her words, realising maybe more solidly than before just how soon it would be their family grew. "What a wonderful idea. Yes. We shall celebrate our child and our marriage: Everything that makes our family." Wrapping an arm around Rexanna's waist he slowly tilted backwards until they were laying on their bed, so he could turn to look at her and stroke her cheek.
"You know, Rexanna..." Perhaps it was a need to get back to normalcy after their argument, but he found himself awash with affection. "..You are beautiful. I have still never been able to capture the radiance well enough."
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
She nuzzles her head into him after her suggestion, feeling the vibration within his throat as she closes her eyes – eyelashes fluttering against the column of his neck, shifting a small amount to allow him more room to wrap his arm around her waist until he’s pulling her back with him and she willingly goes – easing herself and adjusting so she’s laying a bit more face down to rest along his chest, leaning into the touch with a soft smile playing at her lips.
Until he comments her name, and her verdant gaze flickers open to look at him, to search his face. His compliments were always something she embraced, but a part of her with her exhaustion and everything shies away from it, ducking her head onto his shoulder as she offers him a small smile. “I think you do a wonderful job capturing all the beauty there is, Bastien.” She says lightly, reaching up with her hand to run through his hair, to run her thumb along his temple. “There’s certainly enough portraits and drawings of me to fill a house.” She teases him lightly, between the sketches and practicing shadows and gestures, there were enough of her to go around.
Bastien hummed happily as Rexanna reached up to play with his hair, always particularly liking that; her comment about the thousands of artpieces of her that could be found around their home made him laugh. "And yet! Still none of them measure up to the real thing. There used to be a man in Venice who swore he could capture a portrait so real you would not know if he had included the sitter's soul in his tools." He'd been a cocky asshole, but Bastien had admired the artistic bragging if nothing else. "...He couldn't, but what an ability to have that would be!"
Staring at the ceiling and holding Rexanna close, he wondered if the child would change this: the easy happiness, the quiet afternoons together. Would it be a different kind of joy, or the end of it? "....If...we could speak on the child again, though be assured I do not intend to argue or bicker: what is it you're most worried about? About being a mother, about having the baby here.."
There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become
The laugh that rumbles through Bastien’s chest sparks a smile from her lips, her hands intertwining with the dark curls of his hair while she focuses on what he has to say. “Is that so?” She asks, returning a hint of her usual self, searching his face for any sign of the lie within it. And when she finds out it wasn’t exactly true, she hums a quiet chime of a laugh along with him. “My…” She rumbles softly, a gentle smile crossing her face with the thought. “Leaving a piece of yourself in each painting… What if there was nothing left at the end of it all?” She asks, finding it still surprisingly beautiful of an idea. A piece of you in every single thing left behind – like you hadn’t even left at all.
But she settles, against him gently, listening as the happiness fades to become a bit more mellow – watching the way the moonlight filtered in through the window. The question causes her to adjust her head a small amount to look more fully at him. “I… Think it’s mostly that I just wouldn’t be good at it.” She offers quietly, perhaps a bit sadly. “I like to think that I would, but there’s a difference between imagining it and actually doing it, and that’s what I’m worried about.” She manages, fingers tapping along his chest with the thoughts as a small frown begins to form. Would she have enough patience? Would she have enough love to give?
