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!
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Despite the hesitations (natural, she thinks, to not dive so quickly into a stranger’s unknown offering), Wessex keeps her hands their until grasped, giving both a simultaneous squeeze of acceptance and recognition as one of their own. There’s a fanged smile, slightly feral if one looks at in a certain life. Or is it protective and content, a fierce matriarch swearing silently to the world that they are now under her protection and Gods help whomever challenges that? Whatever additional colors it might hold for their young eyes, it is most definitely satisfied with their decision.
For a moment they are three linked as one, and then she lets their hands go. The sentimental moment has passed and they should be moving on - both in whatever task they were in the middle of and with information.
“Twelve, including you. We’re everywhere - from the Ground to Halo to Torchline. You know the Queen and her husband are also Ascended, right?” Perhaps not - she doesn’t know how much information reached them out here, or if their parents talked about it, if they’d cared enough to make it into a big deal. And if they didn’t, then they do now - and have someone else to go to if something goes wrong.
The wolf in the distance howls again, a little closer than before. Wessex cocks her head and looks about. “Were you headed somewhere?” If they were in the middle of something, she doesn’t intend to interrupt it. “I can always come back later.”
Acceptance here, instead of in the weight of their father’s disapproval, their mother’s arguments (how they couldn’t, wouldn’t Ascend, preferring to die and drift off with Mort, rather than live on for eternity with their children), their siblings’ scared, darkened glances. Mabel saw Wessex as one of those paragon figures, she supposed, tilting her head subtly, as a cat might commit in action and repose; larger than life, something binding the warped, frayed canvases together.
Then they were freed, and she kept Evelyn’s hands in her grasp, staring, listening, trying to keep the clamor of her heart down. Twelve; just twelve of them, ten if they hadn’t Ascended. Something about that was wondrous and terrifying all at once, that there were enough to call a family, but not enough to call an army, a force, against other reckonings and footfalls. Mabel nodded at the insinuation of their Queen and her husband; they’d known that much, had listened to the railings of their parents for hours and days at a time. Maybe it’d been out of fright, terror, the unknown beckoning and clawing. Maybe it’d been out of hatred.
Maybe it didn’t matter any longer, not when their final act of defiance had been to live in the face of death.
To fight back, to display their fangs.
“We were wandering,” she was open and honest for the instance, her eyes briefly glinting towards Evelyn’s, then back again to the Wraith. She had an infinite amount of questions on her tongue, and the first one blurted out on impulse. “How…how long does it take until we can stay in the sun?” Until they could rise at any time of day, until they could challenge the fabric, seams, and stitches of the world?
A moment of wholesome solidarity, of togetherness with this, their new family. It brought comfort to the girl, comfort she didn't entirely realise she needed, after everything. The Wraith had welcomed them into the fold, ignited a sense of belonging, a sensation long since lost when they were only ones determined to live, to find another way out of famine and starvation.
As the touch with the woman was broken, Evelyn remained linked to her sister - that bond would not be discarded so easily, the strength each found in the other too great, too vital, too necessary to abandon just yet. She spoke of the royalty and their similarities, their Ascension, and Evelyn nodded, eyes sharpening as she remembered the lectures and tirades, the disapproval her family felt that others would seek this life.
What had driven the royal house to Ascend, to seek another way to live? Had they been presented with a similar predicament, with death and loss in their future, and chosen this Ascended life instead?
Wandering, her sister explained, and Evelyn but nodded, agreeing with it. They had always been ones to wander, but only just now did she feel mixed motions of being lost and found simultaneously. "How come we could hear you?" she asked, the question having been burning upon her tongue since the voice of the Wraith sounded in her mind - she wanted details, she wanted to know the exact mechanism that allowed such things.
Why? So that she could obtain similar for herself, of course.
cross me once i dare you it is the only chance you will get
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Wessex nods in understanding at the simplicity of wandering, remembering how she would take to the woods and the streets of the Settlement, just to marvel at how clear everything was at night. “Night is just as beautiful as day with the right eyes.” Their eyes, their ears, their noses - that can see and hear and smell much like the wolf Mabel might have wanted to be, once upon a time. It can be a shock at first, but if their non-Ascended friends don’t mind staying up a little later, it’s entirely possible to maintain some friendships.
“Mmmm, it depends. All I can say is that it takes time and dedication to levelling. Some seem to progress more quickly. I may be the only one who can be in full sunlight for a long time, but I seemed to have veered off the beaten path last year. Others are slower. I can say that The Voice is extra generous to those who help out.” There was a small resistance boost for those who helped bring us to Torchline. Whether or not something like that would happen again, she couldn’t say.
Their eagerness is endearing, and the Wraith finds herself wanting to introduce them to Clem. “Ah, that’s one of my upgrades. I can talk to any of the Ascended - doesn’t matter how far away you are. And when you’re close to me, like from me to that tree over there -” she indicates one about thirty feet away, “I can hear you.”
If they know any Attuned, it might be likened to their mental link. It isn’t perfect. But it’s great for secret conversations. Maybe in time they'd all be able to talk to each other, no matter where they were in Caido.
Mabel was not a fool; adhering directly to the answers given and granted, listening intently to the insinuations layered underneath. The Voice is extra generous to those who help out rang a chord, and she shoved it in the back of her mind for further nuances and developments, to ask, to receive, to kneel and bow before their goddess. But there were potentials for the sun again, to bask in its glory as well as any luminous glow, a wolf amidst midnight and the dawn, and something about the notions compelled her into more malice, more menace, intertwining in her bones, in her filaments, in the parts that were still Mabel of the Occidendums.
So she nodded, understood, kept silent while the Wraith continued, speaking of upgrades, of ways in which her form worked, far better, far greater, than theirs. A slip into her mind, tones calling again. “How are we to get these upgrades?” Power, prestige, strength, and might, not afraid to show the covetous edges, the range of speculation and potential. Maybe one day they’d have more and more and more, perfected machines under alterations and machinations, their wits and mights gathered, beneath either sun or moon, to revel in the triumph of their existences, their fortitude, their abilities.
06-08-2020, 02:28 AM (This post was last modified: 06-08-2020, 02:50 AM by Evelyn.)
EVELYN
Listening, learning, the blue eyes revealed little except quiet amazement and excitement as the Wraith continued to elaborate, to explain and answer the many questions thrown her way by the twins. She explains how the Voice might be even more generous, extending further kindnesses to her followers, should they 'help out' further.
"What sort of ways would the Voice have us help?" Recruiting people into her generous and immortal folds? Proving how strong, how capable and wondrous her gift of second life can be? Spreading word of their plight, their journey, so that others may know the Voice is a viable and prosperous option? What would the Voice have them do to prove their worth, to receive more of her gifts, more than the very gift of extended life itself? Surely people would want to know that the finality of life, of death offered to them by the Old Gods was grossly insufficient, and open to be challenged, to be questioned, denounced and protested, if one would only turn to the Voice?!
Then she hears the words directly to her mind again, and is reminded at the unknown limits of potential this path offers them, and allows a wicked sort of smile to curve her lips.
cross me once i dare you it is the only chance you will get
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Feeling a bit like a prophet, perhaps, or one of the Apostles spreading the good news of the Voice, Wessex smiles benevolently at Mabel’s question. She’d thought it was obvious, but then these girls are still children. In a year or so they may cease to think like them, but until then - well, she was new once, too. “When you know what you want, you need only ask. Go to a shrine; here are three in the Hollowed Ground, as well as a Safehouse, and one shrine each in Halo and Torchline. She may give you specific items to collect, or she may be able to tinker with things inside immediately.” With a nod to Evelyn’s inquiry, the Wraith indicates that they’re often linked.
“Or by reward. For whatever you’d like to do to further Her cause.” Thinking for a moment, she begins to tick off ideas on her fingers. “We work to open the portals and set up shrines in new lands. Sometimes it’s a more of a fight and sometimes it comes easily, there’s no way of knowing ahead of time. You could be a weapon like me or a diplomat like the Queen. You could do more subtle work by convincing people to be our allies.” Pausing here, she looks the two of them over and notes the expression on Evelyn’s face, the kind that says to her this one might be conniving, and the Wraith’s heart sings in recognition of potential.
“Or you could live your lives quietly and kindly, so that we can use you as examples of harmless Ascended.” She shrugs, not thinking much of that option, but it is always an option. “Whatever you do - it’s your choice. The Voice always gives us a choice and often wants us to decide for ourselves whether or not we want to participate in a task.” Without alluding to anything specific, for they’ll soon learn of the postponed quest and will have the right to give their own input on the matter.
“What are you doing for LongNight?” she says in turn, looking from face to face with no sense of expectation about what their answer will be.
They were granted more and more information, and she greedily took it in spades – her mind full and still ravenous, an avaricious plunge where before they wouldn’t have been allowed to breathe, to speak, the charters of the Voice. Her features didn’t betray her eagerness, but they still remained in frameworks and sedition, a glorious thought process forming behind her cool eyes. Safehouses and shrines, items, themselves, to tinker with, tasks to complete, renderings due.
Then there were the notions of what the Ascended had already accomplished, and it was a beatific list of potential and power, opening portals so the rest of them could stretch their wings in other lands (and for two girls who’d never seen anything beyond bubbles and the outstretch of a decaying, dying farm – that could’ve been more than enough). They could be weapons, armaments, diplomats, no limitation except what curbed them from the start. Whatever vestiges of a heart chiseled in her heart felt like bursting, felt like flying, felt like grabbing, ripping, and tearing apart the seams.
“We have lived quietly and kindly already,” and here she tilted her head, a bit more deviousness slipping along her mouth, the intertwining of fates and circumstances. “I’ve grown tired of it.”
Choices – an abundance of them now, seeping into skulls and membranes, given life twice over. “Thank you for letting us know. Perhaps, when we see the Voice again, we will have our own path.”
And as for LongNight, she’d let Evelyn answer, their sentiments clear from previous evenings, where they’d spun those webs across eaves, attempting to decipher which lines to take, to cross, to maul, to snag as theirs.
Further Her cause, those words in particular stuck with Evelyn, ideas swirling and twirling about her cranium. Wessex gave more information, more instruction, more fodder for her mind to turn over and investigate, to interpret and to look to their future endeavours with much excitement and positivity.
They had lives to live now, unleashed from the confines of their family, their farm, their mortalness. Blond hairs ripple in waves as she nods in enthusiastic agreement to her sister's words - they were done with their small mortal life, now was the time to live their immortal steps, to stride with confidence and declare the truth of what they were to all they came across, to relish in their newfound senses and to welcome others into the folds of the Voice's generous clutches.
"We are ready to live this new life granted to us to its fullest potential." Her tones supplemented her sister's, her determination clear. Wessex had already helped tremendously in inspiring the ideas, the notions, the goals for the girls to achieve as they take their next steps in this new midnight world they would live.
A brow tilted as the question on their location for the Longnight came - they had not yet discussed it, but Evelyn knew her heart's desire. "We are surviving, this Longnight." She said simply, with a glance to her sister, a small smile shared between siblings granted. This year, they would not be pushed to near extinction, huddled and afraid surrounded by their siblings. This year, they would venture elsewhere - still in the Hollowed Grounds, but not in what was their home.
"We will think of our options more, and let you know, if you wish?" she asked, so easily deferring to the elder, swinging from yearning for their independence to giving it back to this Wraith within a few breaths. It was hard to break old habits - baby steps would be all they took for some time yet, and Wessex had offered herself as a resource to them after all.
cross me once i dare you it is the only chance you will get
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Already there had been inklings of ferocity within the twins and as like so often calls to like, that defiant spirit within Wessex’s chest tried to reach out to them. Ah, but not - quite - yet. Though they flash their fangs and proclaim they’re tired of quiet lives (which elicits a pleased look from the demigod), she must hear it boldly proclaimed before that spirit tries to hone them.
“I have to say that I’m glad to hear it,” she says quietly, letting that lie between the three of them with a smirk. No quiet shuffling for them, no apologies for their lives, no kindness to those who don’t deserve it. “I find quiet and kind rather overrated”. But that’s their little secret for now.
Without any specifics about their LongNight plans, she cannot check on them unless they end up at the Temple. Oh well. They’re Natural children, they know how to take care of themselves for this week, more or less. And if they’re there, she’ll see them. If not, well, she’s used to the anxiety of wait and see who lives. It’d be a damn shame to have them survive the Hollowed Ground only to perish for someone’s idiocy during LongNight.
“I'd like that,” she ends with a kind smile, thinking that she’d very much like to take them under her tutelage in a way she hasn’t been able to with anyone else. “Have a safe LongNight.”
