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!
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
It had been a long time since Sam had been as anxious to see someone as he was to see Amalia after their letters. He had agreed to meet her in Zeph's porch at evening; the house made him feel as safe as he could at the moment and with his sister the Safrin blessed coming, he needed that right now. Hands clenching into fists in his lap over and over, he tried to think over everything he wanted to say.
This doesn't mean I want to love the Old Gods. This doesn't mean you were right about everything.
And hardest of all:
I need your help.
At least there was Zeph's house to escape into if things got too bad. Not having any idea what to expect from his sister he brought his legs up onto the chair he was sat on, chin resting on his knees, and prayed to no one that she might not show up.
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
It should have been harder to find the house based on the directions, but one request of aid in locating the red-haired grounder is enough to send her toward the house at the end of the lane. Now as she approaches she feels a certain trembling anxiety threatening to overtake her- because what will he look like, be like, after such a trauma? And what if there is nothing she can do for him, if his faith in her is entirely misguided?
And, how dare the Voice.
Barefoot with sand and salt in her hair, Amalia stops down the street from Sam: close enough to have a view of him, far enough to run if the desire strikes. Pause, breathe, and then the rest of the steps, drawing her closer against her anxiety, into his orbit and onto the steps of the porch-
-And up them, towards him, her dark eyes glinting, an unreadable swirl of emotions within-
-and then her arms are reaching for him, wrapping around him, trying to pull him close.
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
Sam, so drawn into his own fear and thoughts, did not see Amalia when she stopped on the street before him; he was only aware of her presence once she was there before him and within seconds she was pulling him in for an embrace he had not expected. Sam let himself be lifted and held, found that the sudden warmth and affection, the familiarity of who was now his sister...it was powerful enough to bring tears to his eyes, which he blinked away determinedly, pressing his face into Amalia's shoulder.
He was glad that she was alone for the moment. He liked Deimos fine, but the other man's strength and stoicism would only serve to make him feel more ashamed in this moment, especially as he pulled away from Amalia and began to speak, the uncertainty in his voice clear long before the first stutter. "..I...I'm still tr-trying to work out if I made a horr-horrible mistake."
Still, at least Amalia was here, and she was somewhat of an expert when it came to the Gods. Sam motioned for her to sit next to him before sitting back down himself, lacing his hands together: one gloved, one not. "I just...g-got tired of pretending I was o..o..okay, with a lot of it. I don't li-like the Old Gods still, though. I need you t-to know that."
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
He leans into her embrace and she tightens it in response, pulling him close enough that he can feel her heartbeat, even if she will never feel his. It's only when she draws away that she releases her hold, letting him slip back out of her orbit and dropping her hands down to her sides.
It takes an immense amount of effort not to speak again, or to adamantly deny that he made a mistake - it's the smartest thing he's ever done, in her mind - but somehow Amalia holds her tongue, settling in beside her brother as he motions to the porch. The stutter helps, the throwback to a time they scarcely knew each other nothing short of jarring. Jyoti coos a low, soothing song, placing herself in Sam's lap if he'll let her and releasing starlight to soothe him.
And Amalia? Amalia stares at the ocean, a wry, mirthless smile pulling at her lips. "I know," she replies softly, though the knowledge still stings. "Honestly .. I don't think they'll like you much, either. Even now." Maybe it isn't what Ama wants to hear, but the Shield fears it may be the truth.
Sighing softly, she turns to her brother. "Tell me what happened, Sam. And we'll... We'll come up with a plan."
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
At first Sam stiffened as Jyoti wriggled onto his lap, not expecting the sudden contact from the little whale, but after a moment as the starlight began to emanate from her he softly sighed and gently stroked her head, letting her stay on his knees.
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh at Amalia's hesitant words, unsure if they were meant to be a joke but finding the idea of the Old Gods being fond of him at all quite funny. "I d-don't expect them to. Ever. I was hoping th...they might he-help me out of sp-s..spite to the Voice, not love for mmm..me." He wasn't naive enough to believe any of the Old Gods, proud and fickle as they were, would want to cure him simply because of who he was.
How to start with what happened? It was a culmination of months and months of small thoughts, things he'd not dared to voice for a long time, minor irritations building up. "...I...c-can't talk about all of it. I still don't...want t-to put...put Ascended in any harm." He hoped Amalia wouldn't be too offended by that implication, but she was 'the shield of Safrin', hopefully she would see why he was hesitant to tell her about the Ascended business.
"...But...ba-basically, the Vo-Voice put me in a po-position where I was against all..all the other Ascended, and she made them all stop d-doing something they wan...wanted to, because I disagreed. So everyone is ma-mad at me." He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I d-don't know why she did it like that. It doesn't make sense. Anyway...after th-that, I was already feeling hurt."
He held out his gloved hand, wondering if Amalia already knew of it's significance. "Then...D-Deimos asked if he could have an up...upgrade and some fluid to protect the C-college from monsters. I said yes..he t-took my fingers, but he made me this." Sam wiggled his new fingers, smiling weakly to try and show Amalia that he didn't hold any ill will towards her husband. "..The Voice called me t-to see her. She was mad. That I gave that to D-Deimos, even though it would help people. And I just..everything just c-c-c-came out. All the things I was m..mad about, or confused, or--" With a sigh, he shook his head, still unsure if this was all a terrible choice.
"...She said I could t-take a break from her. I should've known then...what she was doing t-t....to do." Sam's hand slowed on Jyoti's back and he stared off down the street, in the direction of the Voice's shrine.
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
She listens quietly as he explains, holding her tongue despite the frequent urge to intervene. Whatever it is the Ascended had done or not done, as well as Sam's part in it, would be a topic for later- not ignored, but set aside. Deimos' part of the story is already familiar to the Shield; she nods when Sam reaches it, reaching out to squeeze appreciatively on the gloved hand (can he feel it?) in gratitude for his act.
Of course the Voice had been angry about it. Anything to help people, help anyone other than her-! Anger crackles in Amalia's eyes, sending tendrils of lilac through her golden hair. Lavender smoke curls out from her nostrils, indignation pulling out the qilin features until she manages to swallow it down, though the nubs of horns remain. "So... because you wanted to help others, she punished you." Not even a task for the Old Gods directly- a task for the people, and one that cost the Voice nothing.
It makes the Shield's teeth hurt.
"I wish I was surprised." Her hands are balled into fists on her lap, nails pressing into palms. "But... the Voice has always discarded the things that don't obey her anymore. The Spire Demon, the LongNight monsters, the Prince... I'm sorry you had to be the newest name on that list, Sam. And to strip you of everything, leave you helpless-!" Again she feels the anger rise like fire in her chest; again she has to swallow it down, bite with fangs and close her eyes against the injustice of it all.
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
Sam was shocked to see smoke leave Amalia's nostrils along with the rest of her reaction; not intimidated enough to let go of her hand (he desperately needed the comfort) but certainly alarmed enough to lean back a little. He had not expected her to care so much: perhaps he had misjudged his sister.
"...I thi...think...she worries a-about what the O..Old Gods will do. Wi..with the fluid." He sighed and shook his head. "B-but they've alre..already had s-sss-some, and this would he..help so many." Sam wanted to believe that most people wouldn't just leave the Ascended outside the door.
Amalia's last outburst left him shaken; he had not yet made the connection between himself and the Voice's old creations. His eyes widened and he stared at her, a new fear blooming. "Wait...d-do you think that'll...happen to me? I..I'd rather d-die than be a monster."
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
"They'll use it to stop the monsters - her monsters from taking more lives. Human and Ascended." Firmly Amalia squeezes his hand, flashing eyes trained on the ocean. There is no effort to conceal her anger, or the disdain she feels for the goddess.
Mercifully Sam's alarm snaps has back to him. Tearing her eyes from the horizon, the Shield looks at her brother with confliction on her face. For a moment she struggles with her thoughts; then all at once she seems to shift, the anger turning to a weary resolution, her hand reaching for Sam's again.
"I don't know, Sam," Amalia admits softly, trying to keep the pity from her voice, the fear. "I...don't know what will happen. But if... If that does happen, and you change..." She isn't sure how to say what she's thinking without coming outright with it. She remembers the desperate plea of a goddess, a promise she once made, and inhales deeply. "If you don't want to live like that... You won't. I promise."
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
Amalia's hand holding his was a comfort he hadn't known he'd needed; they had not been family for too long but since they had known, Sam had felt a desire for he and both his sisters to grow closer, to be together despite all of it, almost as a show of defiance to the world determined to tear them apart.
She would not lie to him and while he appreciated that (and the offer made afterwards, which he nodded at but had to blink away tears too), he was terrified. He'd seen the Prince, how pathetic it was - it was not too hard to imagine himself slowly growing corrupted and sad like that, rushing off to a cave to recover. "..Th..thank you. ..I..d-do worry that...I migh..might..not ac-actually be able to survive. Like this."
It had been a thought in the back of his head, but one he'd been trying to avoid so far. "I d-don't know of any Ascended that li...live on blood alone."
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
Will he survive as he is? Again she thinks to the things she's seen, the Voice's other discarded children and their questionable states of life. "I don't know either." And if he does begin to wilt and decay, held hostage by a goddess who made him and now will break him, how strong will his resolve in his decision be, she wonders? Will he be able to withstand it, to withstand her, at the price of his life?
She still finds it upsetting, the idea of another drinking her blood. Though part of her wonders if she ought to offer, she cannot bring herself to give it a voice, to propose he eat from her. Peering at her feet, the Shield shuffles them on the step below her. "If Safrin can't help you... I suppose we could try... maybe we can go to the Prince again? And see if giving him fluid from another Ascended will improve him? It could be a solution, at least for a while..." If they can bring that poor creature back to the brink, perhaps it will mean hope for Sam.
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
Amalia again did not lie, gave him the honest but hard answer. While Sam knew that was likely for the best, he had to do his best to stomp down the panic rising in him, the desire to run back down the beach and throw himself at the shrine, let go of all principles just for the certainty that Ascended eternal life had given him. "I haven't...th-thought about having to die for a long...l..long time. How do you d-deal with it?"
Her suggestion about the Prince caught him by surprise. "..Perhaps, but wh-who would we get the fluid f..from? I don't know if I c..can afford to lose any right now." Also, he didn't really want to see the Prince again: the last time had been rather disastrous.
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
How does she deal with thinking about dying? Amalia's smile is faint and distant, memory and certainty playing over her face. "I did die, once- or nearly," she admits, remembering keenly that dark and fiery night. "I'm... I'm not afraid of death. I know Mort's realm is waiting for me, and my family is there. What scares me more is life- not living a life worthy of Mort's hall. His love."
Of course, Sam does not have that certainty waiting for him. When he dies... Well, Amalia does not know where he will be. A captive of the Voice, by his own account. It makes her shudder to think of it.
The issue of the Prince is not one he seems interested in, so the Shield doesn't press it. It can be something she investigates on her own, if needed, perhaps with Rexanna or Amun. Resting her head on her palms Amalia glances back at the sea. "We can go whenever you want. To the shrine. If you want to go now... Or if you want to wait. It's up to you."
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
Sam listened to Amalia speak and really, for the first time in his life, tried to understand: to concentrate and feel in his heart anything close to a desire for the Old God's love..but he couldn't. All he felt was a faint disgust and a definite disinterest: he had decided he didn't want to earn The Voice's love and didn't intend to go to just earning someone elses. "..Wh..what do you have to do, to earn Mo-Mort's love?"
As for going to the shrine...he took in a breath and looked out over the beach, at the still night with the rolling waves. "...I'd like to wait un...t-til tomorrow. Tonight, I think it'd just be nice to try t-to forget. About all of it." Whether that was possible or not he didn't know, but it'd be good to try.
Looking back to Amalia and around, he asked: "I th-thought you said D..Deimos was coming?"
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won
"Nothing." Surprised he doesn't know this, Amalia throws Sam a bemused smile. "That is- Mort loves all living things, inherently. He doesn't discriminate who goes to him and who does not. If their souls are free to, that is." Her expression darkens, remembering the ones she and Jigano helped collect after LongNight. Rubbing her thumb over her wrist, the Shield blinks and sighs. "So it doesn't have to be earned. But that doesn't mean.... I still want to feel worthy, of such a gift."
Nodding agreement with the decision to wait until the next day, Amalia continues to sit beside him, her legs curled up between her arms. "Okay." She can sympathize with wanting to forget, to pretend that nothing is wrong if only for a moment.
At the mention of her husband she involuntarily smiles, looking over the moonlit water. "He's in town, checking on the preparations. Not, not that we doubted you'd have everything ready. But we thought... maybe it would be weird, having him here too. I don't know." A little anxious now, she chews upon her lip. "We can go find him, if you want? Or, or stay here. Whatever you... you want to do."
