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!
In the stillness of the snow and the fading sun, an alto voice rings through the glade, singing a song old and true.
LongNight comes and darkness creeps
Into your room as you fall asleep
Hush little child, don’t you fear
Soon the Spark Bird will be here!
It reminds her of her days as a girl, skipping stones upon the Oasis and wondering where the Spark Bird lived. Time was she hadn't believed it to be real - a story made to bring hope in the darkness, to soothe the children frightened by night.
And then, of course, came the year of change, and the creature proved to be more than real.
Spark Bird, Spark Bird, light our way!
Make the LongNight bright as day!
Spark Bird, Spark Bird, come this year!
Yours is the song we long to hear!
She remembers acutely the feeling of seeing the magnificent creature for the first time. Remembers the pride, the triumph and joy, at having salvaged the perch enough to allow it a place to rest. She remembers the awe and wonder at its majesty, the fascination, the mirth of being allowed to go outside during the dark.
She hadn't thought about what might happen to it, after the week of dark.
Wings like a storm and eyes like a fire
See as the bird flies higher and higher
Bringing light to the world below
Setting Caido all aglow!
Shield on her back and a lantern in her hand, Amalia continues to sing her song as she walks among the trees. She doesn't know where the bird makes its nest but her soul and mind are open, reaching through Attuned accords to catch a glimpse, a feeling.
Now, this would not be so abnormal as an isolated event. Farmers sing their rhythmic working songs, adventurers mutter to themselves, squeals of shock and cries for help are all commonplace. Nephele does not often pay them mind, high above the woes of short-lived humans and the earth that they inhabit. Now, with Ludo's rags an ever-present warmth around her shoulders, not only does she feel more inclined to travel in the darker, colder hours, but there is a mission of sorts that drives her to interact more with the flightless souls beneath.
Except the song she hears, beckoning and bell-like through the barren canopies below, is no working song. It is a come hither, a cajoling sort, and though she is not the creature the woman beckons Nephele is drawn inward nevertheless.
The lantern alone is enough to spot the traveler, even if she did not have pale hair and a glittering, starlit companion. A whale. Copper mane tilts in the avian way she has, inspecting the companion instead of the woman as the silver veins of her wings catch the lantern's light. Few starwhales are currently bonded, and one in particular she knows belongs to a woman she seeks quite ardently. All together, there is no reason not to interrupt the singer's evening.
Descending upon the lowest branch she can find - reluctant as ever to feel the chill of snow and wetness upon her feet - Nephele sits primly upon the weathered bark, feet swinging childishly as her hawklike gaze narrows upon Amalia. "You seek the Spark Bird. Are you preparing for LongNight, then?" Concealing her own admittedly uneducated opinion about the Grounders using the graciousness of the Spark Bird, falling instead into her natural inquisitiveness.
that red riding hood knew exactly what she was doing when she let the wild in
A voice, an interruption. Not the most surprising occurrence; the Glade is a popular destination, even in the dead of winter. Still green and lush despite the chill, it offers solace and shelter in the harsher months, the crueler nights. It is a haven for living things of all type, human and animal alike.
And today, it seems, one fae.
She hadn't expected to see a fae... well, anywhere outside the Greatwood. Indeed, it is Jyoti who notices the winged woman first, trilling a low note of recognition while Amalia searches the shrubbery for the source of the voice. It is only when she tilts her head up that the Shield spots the stranger perched upon a branch, dark eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, not sure what to expect from this encounter, what judgment has already been passed.
Resting her staff upon the ground, the girl gives a wary nod. "Yes... though I wanted to speak to it about other things, too." Her gaze searches the fae's; she bites down on her lip. "Do you... know anything about the Spark Bird? Where it comes from, and how... how to help it go home?" A shot in the dark, the fae know more of the world than the grounders, having been a part of it while Amalia and her kin were locked away.
Ah, yes. The eternal struggle for wingless creatures to look up. Nephele is always amused by the tilt and twist of frantic heads until their eyes alight upon her form high above them, but the meanness to the humor has faded over time. For the best, if her goals are to be achieved tonight or any other night. Jyoti is given a soft hello in the Fae language, unable to mimic the crooning noise that had alerted the flax-crowned wraith beneath her branch.
One leg crosses over the other as she shifts to curl her arms around her knees, peering down at Amalia from her perch. The woman's inquiry is not wholly unexpected, if disappointing. Most have learned not to be so crude in their inquiries after the various clashes between their races. "I only know what exists in tales and songs. Our home is not afflicted with the monsters the Spark Bird chases away for you." Though Nephele would have loved to offer information if only in an attempt to endear herself to the woman, if she is who Nephele suspects she may be. "Are you Amalia Chandrakant? I have been searching for one by that name."
that red riding hood knew exactly what she was doing when she let the wild in
Further examination of the fae woman has reveals a number of things. The prettiness of her: auburn hair on a pale form, beautiful wings of silver, a comfort here among the world of nature that the Shield can never hope to achieve. A spur of envy rises, unbidden, like fire in Amalia's breast. Noticed too is the way she seems to have an understanding of what's going on, which the slender woman who stands on the ground finds she sorely lacks.
And, of course, there are the rags.
She knows those rags. Perhaps another might not have noticed as quickly, but Amalia is an acolyte, a student of the gods- few of their treasures escape her attention. So this fae is a follower of Ludo, garbed the same way Maea had been. Blessed and treasured, but to what end?
The fae has no helpful information, and so Amalia relaxes her neck, looking back to the canopies. "It isn't native to here," the girl explains quietly. "It was captive here, like us. Frey told me... and I hope to help it return home, after LongNight. To free it." Where that home is the Shield does not know; she can only hope that somewhere in the Atheneum or the Undercroft there is information to help her on this self-appointed task.
Her own name on the lips of the fae isn't something she expected; Amalia blinks, turning back to the woman, confusion obvious in her face. "I am, yes. Did you... did Delah send you?" This makes the most sense to her, though to what end she cannot say. Probably to chastise her for bringing Tarasha to the Underground.
The woman's eyes are inquisitive, intense. They rove over her with more subtlety than others of her kind, but Nephele bears it with a calm demeanor and a willingness to be examined. If they are to be comrades in arms, she just be the first to extend the olive branch, to organize and encourage peaceful interactions previously not so heavily scrutinized on her end. Though unwilling to be dishonest about her own personality, Nephele is aware that she must endear herself to the woman whose name and title is so widely known.
"Are you searching for it as a disciple of Frey then?" Eyes roving back to Jyoti as if wondering how the two could coincide. The woman's deity alignment had not been part of the information to reach her ears. Her name, however...
Nephele wrinkles her nose down at the snow as she slips easily off the branch, unwilling to hover for a potentially lengthy conversation and therefore submitting herself to the revolting sensation of cold, wet feet as she lands in the snow before Amalia. "Delah is dead." There are no fanciful words to lessen the blow, and so she does not deign to speak them. "Ludo has had me appoint a new chief, and tasked me with a more...private endeavor." Golden wildfire eyes gaze up at the taller woman, seeming for all the world as if she is far more imposing than her height suggests. "So I ask - what is your allegiance? Do you side with the Ascended and the crimes they have committed against my people? Crimes that have gone unpunished?"
that red riding hood knew exactly what she was doing when she let the wild in
Amalia nearly laughs her surprise at the suggestion she is a disciple of Frey; instead she snorts, shaking her head a little. "No- though I respect all the Gods, I pledge my allegiance to Vi and Safrin, not Frey. But that doesn't take away from the... the empathy I feel for all Rae's creatures, I suppose. And the Spark Bird is a living thing, so its well being is Vi's domain as well." She trails off in her rambling and looks back into the trees, as though hopeful that the bird itself will appear and save her from her own anxiety.
Alas, she is not to be so fortunate. As the fae woman lands in the snow beside her Amalia arches a brow, surprised by this descent onto land from the comfort of the tree. All curiosity and amusement fades at the revelation made: "Oh," the Shield exhales, stunned, her almond eyes blinking rapidly against her shock. "When-? How-?" She had expected Delah to last eternities, always present and always to remain. The loss of her - so abrupt, so unexpected - leaves Amalia reeling, unsure what to feel.
The woman does not linger long on sentiment, instead cutting directly to her point. Though taller, the Shield feels as though she is being looked down on, judged, and seen for her sins. It is an unexpected thing, and it leaves her mouth dry; in all her failures, this remains one of the most keen. "I do not." Meeting the wildfire with her own dark embers, she pushes the strength of her conviction into her words. "The Voice needs to be held accountable for her crimes - all of them, but especially those against the Greatwood. The Blight was a terrible thing, and too many are too happy to forget it occurred at all."
An image flashes through her mind: her goddess, twisted, sneering in her face- and then broken, wounded, begging her to find a way, to do the unthinkable if it must be done. Amalia will never forget the blight, and she will never forgive the Voice for it, not until or after the day she dies.
Ah, a follower of the old pantheon. Unexpected, but appreciated all the same. Nephele has never been particularly religious - though Ludo's rags around her slim shoulders and its words whispering in her ears may change that with time - but her respect for Rae's realm is undeniable. "Your people could be safe in our lands, as we advertised. All but the Ascended. Do you seek the bird only to re-home it then? Or to use it as a sort of weapon once more, as reasoning to remain in your lands?" Nephele is not unaware of the potential cut of her words. The woman seems to have a desire to shelter Rae's creatures, even if it's for the sake of Vi. But what is her ultimate goal? Whose lives matter more to her as LongNight approaches?
If she feels judged, it is likely because that is exactly what is happening. Practiced, scholarly fingers digging into meat and muscle, determining the mettle of this potential ally. Gauging how far she can go, how stalwart Amalia is in her beliefs. Far too many crumble in the face of what must be done, and Nephele will not reveal her quest only to have the woman spilling her secrets and goals. "She was murdered. We are still investigating the circumstances behind her demise." Whether they will ever find an answer, well, that is to be determined. Nephele would enact vengeance given the opportunity, but she will not linger on a dead woman's rule either. Her people need her more than Delah needs her to mourn. In this way, perhaps she can honor their former Chief.
Her conviction is strong, but Nephele does not give ground. Leaning closer though her legs remain rooted and immovable, like a mighty oak that has sprouted instantaneously from the snowy earth. "And her creations? What have you to say of their individual actions beyond the Blight? Do you care more for our forest than the people within it? You say you honor Vi - yet where is the judgement from your heirarchy? Where is our justice? My dead kin lay forgotten. Our honored spirit tree is defiled and desecrated. And your Queen claims innocence when we could demand a rightful war." Her words are like the hot snapping embers of a fire, crackling and ready to burn. "I cannot merely take you at your word. How far does your Shield reach? Do you protect the Voice's soldiers even as they murder? Do you only blame the creator, and not those who shout her name as they raze my home to the ground? Where does your protection end?" Stepping closer at last, the singular motion like a death knell. "I will not risk my people by allying with someone inclined to let our bodies rise in piles upon the forest floor, all for the sake of valuing life that cannot be confirmed in the soulless citizens you offer shelter to.
Do you understand?"
that red riding hood knew exactly what she was doing when she let the wild in
"We appreciate that, but... my people are stubborn. We already sent some away to Halo, and others will go to Torchline, but... some will inevitably remain in the Grounds, regardless." She runs her hand through her hair, aware that she is among that number. "So yes, I hope the Spark Bird will perch in Sanctuary this year and keep the monsters at bay. But even if it doesn't, I still want to help it find its way home." She will not lie and say she lacks selfish motivation - the safety of her people matters keenly to her. But whether the bird assists or not, Amalia has taken on a mission. It is not something she is going to shrug off without cause.
The fae's words bite like silver bullets, tearing into insecurities Amalia is shocked to have discovered. She flinches as the woman leans forward, seeing so much of Delah in this new encounter that it rather takes her aback. Judgment and justice- these are things that the girl has considered more and more of late, and to feel them laid bare here by a stranger is to open her mistakes and wounds to the world's scrutiny. "Rexanna is not innocent," the girl replies softly, meeting fire again with steel and trying not to singe. "Nor are any who have done the Voice's work. If you and the Fae were to seek justice against them, I would not stop or blame you."
She glances away then, her eyes turning now to the woods, the trees, the familiar scene. "It hasn't always been like this. It's only recently that the Voice... that things changed. The Ascendeds... Many of them are my people. I grew up beside them, called them friends. I trusted them. And when the Voice was freed and the depth of her sins revealed... I wanted to believe there was still good in them. In my friends. My family." She'd clung to the hope that they were more than simple puppets, than agents of darkness. She'd wanted so desperately to believe that she'd turned a blind eye.
And now?
Turning back to meet the woman's gaze, Amalia's expression hardens. "I still believe there is good in them- in some of them. And the capacity for change." She thinks of Sam, braver and stronger than she ever dreamed he could be. "But... not all of them. Maybe not even most. And I agree: the crimes against your people must be made right. I know... what it is, that Ludo has asked of its followers. And I will not stand in the way of it. Not anymore. Not when it is deserved. Whether or not that makes us allies is up to you, I suppose."
"Your stubbornness seems more dangerous than the monsters then," she quips back, a small degree of amusement flecked within her eyes. A small reprieve of teasing and questionable companionship before she shatters it apart with her words and accusations. There is no armor that can defend against her, no delay in the whip and crack of her words. There is only the hunt, the braying of the dogs at Amalia's heels. Had she known the woman's comparison of her passion to Delah she would have been deeply honored, for her former Chief had done what she could to exact pound of flesh for each injury and death. But Nephele will not stop there. Nephele will do better.
"And yet she continues to rule. You replaced one Ascended with another, how can I expect your people to honor any promises made that speak for the entirety of your land when they come from the mouth of a fanged killer?" Still, she continues to press. Waiting for the crack, the buckling of morals if they are to come. Enough pressure and digging will reveal any rot that lays beneath a pristine exterior. Amalia is no different. "You will not impede me, that I can respect. But you are a woman of worth in this land, and do not use your strength and pull? Why? Is idleness your only form of allyship to my people?" Her demand is insistent and irrepressible. Wanting exact reasoning, excuses, evasions. Why has Amalia not made a motion to remove Rexanna?
"Your friends killed mine by following a false goddess. Your memories of them do not gloss over their murderous actions. Family cannot excuse individual, purposeful actions." For once it falls from petal lips not as an accusation, but as an acknowledgement. Family, after all, is something Nephele can understand. "But tell me, then. If you know what Ludo has asked of me - what I may have already done - will you change your tune if one of your friends finds themselves beneath my blade?"
that red riding hood knew exactly what she was doing when she let the wild in
It is true: their Queen is yet another acolyte of a false goddess. It is why Amalia insisted on taking the power she did, loathe as she is to wield it, but she does not explain this to the fae. The woman seems determined to peer in and see only the Shield's flaws, her shortcomings. To press against the bending places and see if they won't break.
If only Nephele had thought to ask Amalia's greatest critic in these matters: herself.
Amalia falls quiet in the face of more objections, having already explained her actions as best she can. Beyond that, she has no excuses: no reasoning to describe why she has not done more, no justification for the actions at the Mathair, the lack of punishment doled out upon the culprits there. It is true she has not been a stauncher ally to the fae (not that they asked, a petulant part of her thinks); it is true she has stood idle while the Voice did her work.
No longer- this the Shield vows. Not now. Not after Sam.
The final question lands like a blow, making Amalia wince. She meets the wildfire gaze with steel once more, dark iron hard and soft in turn. Will she change her tune? "Not if they deserve it," she whispers, thinking with an ache of Wessex, of Rexanna, of those who arguably have committed sins, whose punishment she could never inflict but also could not condemn. "I would only ask they be given the option to recant. Repent. And that if the choose it, be given a chance. One already has - Samuel Wordsworth."
Her throat tightens around the name. Suddenly she straightens, seeming to gain height. "Punish those who have betrayed the world. Tear down shrines and the Voice's places of worship - and I will gladly help. But do not touch Sam. That is all I ask."
"LongNight is coming, and I must protect my people. But after that... I will help you change things. And I will see to it that Rexanna is no longer queen, nor any other Ascended. You have my word."
She waits for a response before nodding curtly, turning back into the woods. The fae has given her much to think about, in the upcoming week of dark.
