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!
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
Some relief is felt as she reassures me that my questions would be welcome. I was glad to hear it - there were only so many questions I could pepper the Natural locals with before getting turned away. They were happy to answer the ones pertaining to my imminent survival, of course, but in the pursuit of knowledge you often met others who simply didn't care to know, or to share what they knew, at least not to the extent that satiated my appetite.
And so she informs me that she can teleport, like it was nothing, no big deal, whatever. My eyes widen a bit in surprise, my mouth opening - but she gets in her question before I can roll straight into my next one, and I find myself compelled to respond with the same ease she proffered her answer. "Attuned, though I am yet to seek out a Shrine for the purpose of identifying which god brought me here and 'blessed' me."
To be fair, I actually loved the attuned gift. I had explored the Shrines, but the Earth-Atheist self within me still couldn't kneel before an altar and trust a so-called greater being. In my mind, they were still simply beings who possessed power in far greater quantities than regular people, beings who had turned magic into science, who understood it enough that to them, it was not magic at all.
"Do you… What are you?" I return the question, restructuring it as I realised she almost definitely knew what she was already.
Ah, Attuned. How nice. She can almost see their future enmity now - at least in one of the various outcomes post Deepfrost.
“Oh? What’s your shift?” Mildly curious about that, at least, Wessex leans forward ever so slightly. And when he asks what she is, there’s a genuine smile. A crinkle in the corner of her eyes. “I’m Ascended. A demi-god. And my Lady, The Voice, brought you here.” It takes her a moment before she remembers that not everyone is thrilled about coming, so she quickly follows it up with her own form of disclaimer. “And I’m sorry if She’s pulled you from someplace you love. But if She chose you, it must have been for a good reason.”
At least, that’s what she’s been told. Personally, Wessex would rather shut those external portals down, but alas, it isn’t her call. Falling silent, the Wraith swirls the liquid in her glass and looks to gauge Chulane’s reaction.
I decided quite quickly that I liked this woman. She didn't dance around an answer, she didn't colour her words to soften the blow - she was blunt, direct and straight to-the-point. It was refreshing.
At her question, I raised a brow and let a somewhat devious smirk darken the corner of my mouth. Placing my drink on the table between us, I summoned the form that I had been blessed with upon being pulled into this realm - apparently, by this Voice chick herself.
Clothing and skin conveniently blended into fur, with large patchy spots decorating my sides, and smaller speckles my face and nape. From one breath to the next, I sat before her, a clouded leopard, grinning a toothy grin as I sat with haunches folded behind me on my chair, tail twitching playfully behind me.
I stand and turn stretch my back into a arch, turning on the spot before sitting again, and calling upon my human form once more.
"Clouded leopard," I say by way of clarifying the exact name of my shift. "So you're a demi-god - blessed as such by the Voice? And you're saying the Voice is responsible for all Outlanders?" My questions weren't posed with any accusation or allegation, but rather with the polite air of seeking clarification, elaboration.
Chulane may very well find that his initial thoughts about Wessex are correct; she does not mince words, though she may wax eloquent on a limited number of topics. Preferring omission to simply lying, the Wraith navigates the toothy truth of the Voice with pretty damn good dexterity. And she always keeps her word. She also usually thinks she’s right, and that’s usually not so refreshing - hopefully he will come to his own conclusions about her.
The shift brings a smile to her face as she admires the small-ish leopard, the lithe way it moves. There’s beauty in animals, an Ascended-like grace she once yearned for. “Beautiful,” she says simply, and meaning it. There’s a careful nod to his question, and then she puts up a finger as a caveat. “Yes. Here demi-god means we have a more… close relationship with a particular God. There are several of us floating around. Some made, some born.” But all very different from each other. She has yet to figure out how they all have such different abilities.
“But back to the Outlanders. Yes, she started bringing people in to help her get out of a prison. It worked. The portals never closed, though, so people keep on comin’.” And that’s how he got here, she indicates with a gesture.
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
"Huh," I respond simply to her explanation of both this 'demi-god'-ness and the Outlander information. Within that word is a wealth of unspoken thoughts and questions - Jigano hadn't mentioned demi-god explicitly, though I had mused on their existence during all of our interactions so far. Yet another thing for me to ponder, to wonder and research.
I had heard of the prison that held the Voice, the Spire at the Hallowed Grounds. I had seen it, explored the surrounding area whilst wearing my leopard form, given a tour and a history by a hellhound. It wasn't a pleasant story - certainly not as simple as this woman presented it.
"Why was she imprisoned?" I mused softly, taking a sip from my drink, an eyebrow raising as I posed yet another question to the woman, finding myself still with many of them, but letting the conversation flow itself into the answers she would willingly give.
The way his tone changes from an eagerness to a soft musing makes Wessex think this is not the first time he’s heard this story before. And quite frankly, she’s sick of playing catch-up.
But that sort of irritation wouldn’t do here, so she swallows it down and keeps the mild, matter-of-fact tone, as if yes, it really is that simple. “She challenged the Old Gods. Tried to better the world and become a creator like them. They didn’t like it and a war ensued. Eventually they were able to imprison her in a tower and put a cage around it, also effectively caging my people. Well, my original family.” There’s a bit of dryness in her voice - or is it wistfulness? Coupled with an expression of… anger? Sorrow? Nostalgia? Something other than her light-hearted inquisitiveness thus far.
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
Perhaps I was still too sceptical of the existence of Gods, too judgemental, too stuck in my ways, in my view that Gods were simply extremely powerful beings as yet not completely understood by science. But maybe they did exist - maybe they were unexplainable by my science, my world that had no magic, no mystical forces at play, only things money seemed to have the biggest influence.
"I'm sorry," I offer again, genuinely contrite for the effect my words had on her. My capacity for asking questions was getting a response I was familiar with, as I unknowingly encroached on a sensitive subject and pressed on anyway - the scientist within me wanted to keep asking, to keep probing, to know more, to know all - but I was also human, and I liked to think I was a pretty decent human too.
Perhaps I had some preconceived ideas about the Ascended. Perhaps all of the tales of the Voice I had heard so far had indeed painted them in a negative light for me, and I had let that colour my interaction with this demi-god of the Voice. I was angry at myself for it, and hoped to redeem myself. "I didn't mean to overstep. I've heard bits and pieces of all of the Gods in this world - and I have to admit, the idea of Gods, of real mystical beings that affect change in the world of mortals, is still baffling to me."
My head shakes as if to demonstrate that bafflement, before meeting her eyes once more. "We can change the topic if you like." I offer, happy to give the reins over to the woman to decide where this conversation should go, if it should go anywhere.
gain, she waves it away, needing not his apology, but his understanding.
“You didn’t. How else will you learn if no one tells you?” Raising a brow and taking a sip, she chuckles. “Technically, I’m old enough to be an elder, and if I still lived in the Grounds, I’d be expected to teach. But I don’t, so, there goes the opportunity to have awe-struck eyes on me.” She peers at Chulane again and nods decisively. “You’ll have to do.”
But since they are adults, and this is Deepfrost, the Wraith settles a bit back into her chair. “How about question for question? You tell me more about Earth and its lack of Gods and what your life was like and I’ll tell you… whatever you still want to know.” Because she is actually quite curious about this place and she can imagine that his questions about the Voice won’t end there. Not with the tidbits she’s dropped.
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
I was happy that she would linger to talk more, to share information on seemingly whatever question I threw at her, despite the emotions it stirred up within her. I smiled as she chuckled and declared me her student to be taught - a title I regularly gave myself in these similar situations.
"Sure," I agree easily, happy to tell her about my homeworld, my life before the Voice snatched me away and placed me here. "The gods on Earth were invented by man, designed to make it easy to control the masses." My words were offered with succinct simplicity, hopefully also clarifying why I wanted to know so much about the gods of this land - from my perspective, they very well could be as 'real' as the so-called gods of Earth.
"Life was good, despite it all. I was fortunate to be raised in relative privilege, given education and opportunities reserved only for a few." She was welcome to ask further, to seek clarification, on whatever tidbit she decided to cling to in my words.
"Tell me about your family - or families, I guess. Original family, and current?" I ask, using the words she had from before, wondering exactly what she meant by them.
Wessex blinks slowly, probably mostly in confusion, as she tries to wrap her head around the idea of humans inventing Gods as a means of control. It was easy to breeze past his statement about real mythical beings without acknowledging the core of it - that his world doesn’t have any. Or, as he puts it, that they’re fake. It takes a moment for her to sort a response out, his background also zipping in one ear and out the other, more or less.
“So… if they were invented, and you know this, then I assume others know it too. How are these Gods still… important? Worshipped? It sounded like they’re still relevant.” And then there’s the horrible thought about Abasi and his Gods. “What about my friend’s Gods? The one from Egpyt.” On second thought, maybe it was a good thing Abasi was dead. He’d be devastated if he heard that the Gods he so adored were fake.
Her own history is a bit of an afterthought, nowhere near as interesting as this theological discussion. “The Theskyras.” Impulsively, she sheds whatever is covering her arms and reveals a circular dragon tattoo that Astor usually forgets about around her bicep. “I’m the last of my family and unless there are distant relatives in other parts of Caido -” at least six generations distant “- there’ll be no more.” Not biologically, at least. “My father disappeared, but my mother and sister were saints. Deserved better than dyin’ early.”
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
She asks for more clarification, and I am glad to provide it, staunch in my atheist views. I had had this debate many times before, this was well covered territory for me.
"The human race on my world is still relatively young when compared with the actual age of the world. Thousands of years ago, all the way until quite recently (hundreds of years ago), religion and science were one and the same - a way of providing explanations for things they otherwise didn't entirely understand. Things like why does the Sun rise, why do great natural disasters happen, or plagues, etcetera. Humans are intrinsically curious, but not all boast the same abilities to be able to keep digging for answers more detailed than 'a god did it'." He paused to take a breath, to grab a sip of his drink.
"As time went on, as science evolved and provided answers to a great many things, many who still devoutly trusted that it was their 'God' or 'Gods' (depending on which religion) sought to undermine and deny what science had explained. So they edited their 'original' texts to suit their means, they endorsed slavery, they endorsed rape, and they actively restricted means of their less fortunate followers from receiving education, so that they might some to their own conclusions." It was terrible, and my tone became carefully guarded as I spoke of the dark things religious fanatics would do.
"Even the 'nicest' interpretation of certain religious texts still restricted couples who shared genders from being romantically involved, or advised that it was 'sinful' to have sex before one was married in the eyes of 'God'. And people believe in it, they follow the priests en masse, they worship and pray and even though they live in so-called 'sin' themselves, they are more concerned with making sure everyone else on the world believes in what they do rather than see that there is a much more logical way to see the world - through science.
"The Egyptian Gods were long-ago classed as mythology, though they existed for the same reason as all religions on my world do - to help man interpret the world around him, and to allow a few privileged folk to lord it over the masses, by anointing themselves as 'blessed' by the very gods they invented." I was talking a lot, but I didn't want to leave anything out for her, lest she feel like I was trying to hide something from her.
I listened to her talk of her family, admiring her tattoo, nodding with a small frown on my brows as she mentions their dying. It would seem a lot of death surrounded Wessex, but still she lived on, seemingly strong enough to keep on living despite the trials and tribulations of her past. "How long have you been Ascended for?" I ask softly, curious as to when that all tied in to her story, her history - her in general.
That’s… a lot for Wessex to digest at once. She listens (very carefully, I might add) and is utterly baffled by some things, particularly regarding sex and marriage and slavery, whilst being able to draw comparisons to the re-writing and exploitation for one’s gain. In the end, all she can utter is an “I see,” and sit back quietly, beginning to understand why Chuy was skeptical of godly things. “I just have one question. Well, that’s probably a lie, but -” waving that aside, she continues, “There’s really no evidence of godly things? Even we know the sun rises and falls by itself, the seasons change, whatever. But what about… oh, a sudden gift that appears, a power? A miracle?”
Pensively, she throws one more word out. “The unexplained. Or is the science in your world so good that you can explain everything?” The Wraith seems to temporarily have the wonder of a younger person. So many Outlanders have come with other ideas - some good, some bad - but they’d shown the Naturals unequivocally new things. Like Remi, with his alchemy and inventions.
As for her, he has the right of it - the right of Caido, as he’ll soon find out with Weaver - death, death, everywhere, and still its people live and drink. They go doggedly on. “Two and a half years?” she muses, counting the Deepfrosts and the events. “Something like that. Depends on when you start counting. After my sister died, I saw similar signs of the disease in me. And I wasn’t ready to go, yet, so with nothing to lose I went to the Voice and Ascended. And then when I died again she remade me.” And then there’s the third time, when she became a demigod, but that seems like it might be confusing. It is, even for Wessex sometimes.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
A half grin slants my lips as she announces that she has a single question, which swiftly turns into many smaller questions, though the theme of it is singular. "Science makes no claims to know everything, quite the opposite. With science, the true scope of just how little we know can be appreciated. A scientist will postulate a theory and have it tested over and over, to prove whether their theory fits the narrative repeatedly, with controlled and uncontrolled variables. A true scientist is glad to be corrected, to learn that what they once thought was truth could in fact be explained more thoroughly and completely another way."
I respond, pausing to take another sip of drink. "Sudden gifts and miracles, powers as you call it, did not exist on Earth, at least not the capacity I have seen here." I offer a shrug, as if to say most were as mundane as me before I was brought here. "Magic was but a common theme in many fables told throughout the ages." Though perhaps there was more truth to those fables than I or everyone else was led to believe when such things were called fiction.
Wessex elaborates more on herself, and I hear more death, more loss and grief and can only wonder at how she is a functioning human being despite it all. Maybe we had similar coping mechanisms - shoving emotions to the side to be forgotten as long as possible, usually dug up at the most inappropriate, inconvenient times. "That's quite a journey," I comment softly, hoping to show my appreciation, or maybe some kind of empathy, for what she's been through. "And when she remade you, she gifted you with your teleportation, so your journey could continue, and take you across the land?"
If that’s what scientists do, then Caido has a distinct lack of them. Most are welded to their perspectives (including her, to some degree) and no one can tell them otherwise. Such is the nature of religion - to control - he said. On both sides. “You should talk to Remi, the Governor of Torchline, after Deepfrost ends. He’s probably the closest thing Caido has to what you describe.” Or so Wessex has decided, based on his description. “He’s an Alchemist.”
She still doesn’t know what an Alchemist does, exactly. If anyone other than Ronin did, she’d be truly surprised.
“Were you one? A scientist? You seem to talk about it… in a certain way.” As if he knows the discipline intimately, speaking in specifics rather than generalizations. It’s in the language he uses in regards to religion - there’s a clear favorite. In which case, his litany of questions would make much more sense. And if he is, perhaps he might appreciate the way the Voice approaches the world. Perhaps, perhaps…
“No, not quite… that came much more recently. When She chose to raise me up again. First were these -” Dropping a hand over the arm of her chair, she takes a quick look around to make sure no one is in the way. Then the Wraith flexes a couple of minute muscles and three blades of metal come sliding out from between her knuckles, utterly painless. Lifting her hand back onto the arm of the chair, she angles it parallel to her body so the tips won’t be pointing at him.
