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!
Sam let out a short, almost bitter laugh at Zeph's question, supposing he'd probably ask it too had their situations been reversed. "It wa-wasn't really m..mm..my choice." Wearing a sad, wry smile he watched the first embers catch and tried to think of how best to explain the events that had led up to his Ascension: with the general fog surrounding his memories of his teen and childhood years it was difficult enough, but he'd try for Zeph.
"My p-parents weren't...impressed with m..mmm..me. My sis-sister was much more social and tal..talente-ed." Evie had always seemed to radiant confidence in a way Sam could have only dreamed of, even if now he knew it had been at least somewhat of an act, Evie finding their parent's rule difficult in an entirely different way. Since he'd learnt she was really abandoned, he'd wondered if her childhood boldness had been a way to compensate for the ways she'd felt she was lacking. "Ascending was...the Vo-Voice wasn't around th..then, and some p-pe-people saw it as...a way to be better. Powerful." Of course, his parents hadn't told him of the side effects.
The next part of the story required him to tell Zeph a personal secret, one that he was admittedly nervous about. "I agreed...p..partly because I never disob-obeyed my parents. But..also pa..partly because they said, if I d-did it..I could ask the Voice t-to make me a man." Hopefully Zeph would understand what he meant by that; he wasn't sure he could take that conversation atop of everything else by now.
"...I ff-found out about the things I'd lose..after." With a shake of his head and a forced smile, he pressed a hand against the bottle, pushing it back towards Zeph. "I can't g-get drunk. I've...n..never been drunk."
It seems that Sam has even more trauma to unload, though how one man can have borne so much and still be as sweet as he is utterly mystifies you. Never would you have expected an offering of alcohol to lead to this- but then, you have come to only expect the unexpected, when it involves your houseguest.
The firelight dances off Sam's face as he speaks, casting shadows that echo the dark edges of his words. The sister (who you have incorrectly assumed to be the only sister, and ascribed many conglomerated qualities to, something this author finds amusing) a glory-hound, the parents disapproving and abusive. The search for improvement, power, as though somehow he was lacking, not enough as he was. You reach a hand out to set on his knee, staring up with affection and anger for his plight. "Fuck, Red," you breathe out softly, a world of sentiment in those two words.
His last revelation makes you blink in confusion for a moment, not sure what he could mean. Then your eyes widen in understanding, your mouth briefly making an 'O' before shutting again. It explains a lot in retrospect: his diminutive size, his slender features, his insecurity. "An' a handsome man at that," you announce softly but earnestly, squeezing at his knee before taking the bottle back.
You hold it between your hands for now, unsure of what else to do. "Well... seems awful rude t'drink alone, but I s'pose it's what I'm destined for." Yeah, you can't handle much more of this without a pull of rum. Raising the bottle to your lips you take a healthy swig before setting it back down.
Sam had gotten so used to reciting stories of his childhood that the horror of them was beginning to be lost on him; after a while it felt like he was just telling a story that happened to someone else, something he might have read in a book once. Seeing Zeph's face, the curse and the tone in his voice..it reminded him anew of just what he was saying and he gave Zeph an uneasy smile as an uncomfortable cold spread across his chest.
Zeph truly was one of the nicest people he'd ever met: he put a hand over the one on his knee, trying not to let his smile change too obviously to one of flushed happiness; though of course when he was called handsome, all chances of that went out of the window. Laughing as he looked to the sea and tucked some hair behind his ear, Sam tried not to look too pleased. "Thank you."
He glanced back when Zeph spoke of his 'destiny', a frown appearing on his features. "Tha-that's not true. You're lovely...I c-can't drink with you, but I'm here." Sam paused, wondering if he was meant to mention Zeph's wife. Deciding that he'd get told if he wasn't, he asked: "...T..tell me something nice. Um..how did..did you meet your wi-wife?"
He is here, which is more than you can say of El. You've been drinking alone for a long time, and even though you've mostly accepted that it's your own damn fault things wound up how they are... well. El made her choices, too.
She chose to leave.
How long until Red does, too?
Speaking of El. Taking another long (too long) pull, you settle the bottle back in the sand. You've moved now so you're leaning on the empty portion of the bench, staring at the low fire, your elbows on the stone. "How I met El," you repeat somewhat distantly, a bittersweet smile pulling at your mouth. The fire and the alcohol are working together to leave you comfortably warm. "Not much'uva story there. We grew up together - dock rats, both'a us. Always tryin' t'figure out how everythin' worked, gettin' underfoot, causin' trouble." You'd been a proper pair of terrors - her coming up with ideas, you taking action on them.
"Took a while for us t'actually get together, an' I had my share'a flings 'fore then, but one day I guess... I dunno. I looked up an' it was like, oh right. I wanna spent all'a my life with this woman. An' that was that."
Sam certainly noticed the long drink that Zeph took after he asked his question, but there still seemed to be a willingness to answer, so he waited with his chin in his hands, hoping that even though the marriage had obviously ended in tragedy, Zeph might be able to find some joy in recalling when it had been happy.
Perhaps Zeph didn't think it was much of a story, but it brought tears to Sam's eyes as he listened and watched over the rolling waves, thinking it was one of the most romantic things he'd ever heard. What must it feel like, he wondered, to have someone you're so comfortable with, that you know so well? Who you want to be with forever?
Who wants to be with you forever?
With a little dreamy sigh he looked over, a moved smile on his face. "Th...that's one of the nicest st-sto-stories I've ever heard. Thank you for telling me." It hurt somewhere in his chest that he'd never had it, but he kept that hidden.
"Did you..." Sam paused and wondered if it was wise to ask again, but Zeph had been willing enough to answer his first question, so he continued. "...did you h-have your s..ssss..son, right away?"
Suddenly awful nosy, aren't we, Samuel? You might have minded more if you hadn't already had an incredibly bizarre and intimate night with him, culminating in you now getting quite drunk on a beach. You look up at him now, head leaning back on the bench beside him, an amused heh escaping your lips. "S'pose it's not a bad one," you agree quietly. The world had seemed so bright then, the horizon nothing more than a promise, an idea of what else could be.
You turn your eyes up to the stars. When did you stop looking up to the future, and start only looking at the next step ahead?
Ah, but there was only one direction for the train of conversation to continue. A pained expression flashes over your face, the shadows cast by firelight growing suddenly darker; you close your eyes, a thin, pained smile pulling at your lips. "Pretty soon after, yeah." A year? Two? Not many - you'd been young parents, barely in your twenties, but you'd been ready and excited.
And when Ray was born, well, had anything so perfect and beautiful ever existed before? No- certainly not to your knowledge, and anyone would be hard pressed to convince you otherwise. "We named him Rayne." Eyes still closed, you feel a tear escape one of your eyes and trace down your cheek, but you're smiling. How can you do anything else, when remembering your son?
When Zeph looked up to the stars Sam did too, though he was thinking of things entirely different. Wondering if he'd ever get married, if anyone would ever love him enough; or even love him at all. It still hadn't happened yet, and he was getting awfully tired of waiting for someone to sweep him off his feet; why didn't he have a convenient childhood sweetheart around?
El had seemed to be relatively easy for Zeph to speak on, but it was clear that Rayne was a different matter. Sam listened to what little he was given, letting the silence reign between the words; he desperately wanted to know how it had all gone wrong but was at least socially aware enough to know he couldn't ask. When he looked back over to Zeph and saw the tear shining on his cheek in the firelight's glow, he felt ashamed to have asked at all.
"I'm s-ssorry, this is u..up-upsetting you. You should've told me t-to stop." He said gently, then tried to think of something to move onto; something cheerful for once, or at least more chipper than child death. "Um...you know... one of my e-exes lives here. He cheated on me." Great. So cheerful. "Now he-he's with the Arb..Arbiter, Sunjata. He di-diagnoses patients with a b..bite, and he sl-slept with the first one he bit."
The abrupt change in topic is honestly somewhat jarring. Talking about Ray is difficult, yes, but part of you had taken some, well, relief in the act. How long had it been since the last time you mentioned his name? Felt comfortable enough to reflect on those long ago moments without immediately changing the subject, searching for something else, anything else, to cling to?
Oh well. It's your fault, really, for thinking anyone would want to sit through your damn sob story. You should know better by now.
"'s'okay, really-" you begin to protest, but before you can Sam has launched into a new topic entirely. Jarring, again, but you let it go, drawing away from him physically and emotionally and leaning forward to prod at the embers with a long stick. Something about his ex, the lover of the Arm-biter. "Sounds like a catch." Snorting disparagingly, you take another, smaller sip of rum. Not really sure why you should know, but okay. "Is anyone in your life not a total dick?"
The slight (okay, more like intense) awkwardness that settled on the conversation like an anvil struck Sam a moment after he'd done rambling and he almost cringed at himself, realising he'd just completely over-ridden Zeph's moment because of his discomfort. "...You, a-and I'm sorry, I just...in-interrupted you."
Turning to Zeph he tried to smile, hoping he would be forgiven. "I just...I di...didn't want to make you cry. I sss--ssuppose I'm not used to being the one on the o-other side of that." A little quiet laugh left him: it was true he needed to practice getting better at listening. After all, so many people had listened to him over the years. "Tell me. About Rayne...i-if you want to."
Alas for Sam (or perhaps, more accurately, fortunately for him), the moment is lost. "'S'okay," you repeat once more, gruffly brushing off an apology you do not deserve, the bit of a smile already receded behind dark clouds. Really he's saved you from doing or saying something stupid and embarrassing. The last thing either of you needs is another emotional breakdown.
What a bizarre fucking night.
You feel restless, strangely displeased, hurt in a way you can't seem to name. Again you push a stick in the coals, stirring them unnecessarily, watching the embers shift. "Not a lot t'talk about. He died." Your voice is like a cloudy sky, stubbornly holding back any actual sentiment or information.
The moment had left them, Sam having sat on it like a soggy pancake, and he felt hot shame and embarrassment in his chest. His lack of social skills had never felt so terrible as they did now, as he realised he'd stopped someone talking about their dead child for the sake of his own discomfort. Cringing, he let Zeph say his sarcastic piece and nodded, looking out to the ocean.
Still, there was something to be said for the silence, just listening to the waves crash on the beach as he reflected on everything that had happened in the bizarre and lengthy evening. Perhaps it was better to just watch the sea and wait for something to happen for a while, to enjoy the rare moments of quiet, which grew more comfortable and less awkward by the moment.
He still did feel really guilty, though. He'd have to pay Zeph back somehow later.
