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!
When he'd gotten the letter from Evie suggesting the idea, Sam had spent a few days trying to come up with a good enough excuse to deny it. Eventually he'd settled on I really shouldn't leave Torchline right now, only to be smacked right back with we'll come to you!
So, dinner with the family, for the first time in years (and the first time ever, in it's current carnation). Zeph graciously allowed his home to be used, though didn't want to attend himself, something that Sam could not blame him for; Sam spent the better part of the day cleaning and organising the kitchen into something like presentable for guests. Thankfully, he didn't have to arrange food, just drinks: he'd bought some water, wine and juice.
With a recycled folded bedsheet working as a table runner and mismatched plates, it was hardly the most elaborate of set ups, but he hoped it'd do for the occasion. Hopefully, maybe, possibly, it might be fun and not horrendously awkward, but he doubted it: Amalia had yet to learn he was a disciple of the Voice again, after all.
While other dinners didn’t provide consternation, this upcoming one certainly did.
Going to Torchline was meant to be their honeymoon, a time, a place, to get away from the ongoing saga of trials, vitriol, vehemence, and everything else nestled in between. Something to look forward to, rather than the systemic roll of apprehension coiling along his ribs. Under normal circumstances, he might’ve been reserved, nonchalant, and reticent about the entire thing – heading towards Amalia’s siblings with all the familiarity that family, extended or not, brought.
Except, circumstances had altered everything to a degree of discomfort. Evie was now Queen, and there was the caveat of he and Samuel inadvertently combining efforts to murder Deimos’ best friend. That whole conversation-to-be alone made him want to turn around and evade the entire situation.
The Shield’s presence ensured he stayed, and a massive inhale filled his lungs as they followed through on yet another meeting of brethren and kin. Expectations for this one were minimal at best, but he carried on, waiting for Amalia to knock, his eyes glancing over the unfamiliar structure, hands grasping hold of the largest portion of their contribution to the event.
Amalia comes laden with the traditional armor of far too much food. How she'd managed to find access to oven and stove on her honeymoon is a question for another day; needless to say a talented baker can easily find work wherever she goes. And though she knows Sam does not eat or need to eat, she nonetheless cooks for more than their party of four, taking solace in the menial task of it and trying to bury her anxieties and grief beneath a mountain of food.
At least she anticipates this dinner being a better meeting than any between the siblings has been before. Though she knows not what to expect in terms of Sam's health and differs in opinion with Evie regarding the gods, Amalia is proud of her brother and sister, of the choices they've made and the strength they've demonstrated.
So it is with far more enthusiasm than that shown by her husband that the Shield knocks upon the door, peering over her mountain of food with dark, glittering eyes while Jyoti trills an enthused greeting from somewhere near her head.
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds in the space beneath each eye
Evie brings up the tail end of this particular disaster train, her own food offerings reflecting her earthen nature instead of Amalia's baking prowess. Salads, spinach puffs, tender meats and tubers. They are held stacked in her side bag, the warmth emanating across her hip in a way that chases away the slight chill of spring. Coming up behind Deimos and Amalia, she gives a grimace of understanding towards Deimos, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, especially on what she understands to be their honeymoon.
But Evie doesn't want to ruin the day early on, and so she summons a smile and presses a kiss to Amalia's shoulder from behind as she waits for Sam to answer the door. Unaware of all that has changed in her family on all sides, and blissfully, innocently hoping for a single meal together that will bring them closer together. It's what she longs for, in the aftermath of all this change and chaos. To find home, to find a center.
so they'll remind you of your beauty when they bloom each time you cry
Sam was wound up enough that the sound of a knock on the door made him jump; he walked to the door with a nervous breath out, deciding in that moment not to pretend to still be without the Voice: it would be up to Amalia if she pointed it out or not and he supposed they'd have to have the conversation. It wasn't worth keeping up the facade just to maintain happiness between him and his sister.
He opened the door and smiled at both his sisters then Deimos. "Hello!" It didn't go totally unnoticed for Sam either that Deimos didn't look particularly enthused, but he couldn't begrudge him for that. "Do come in. Thank you for bringing the food..you can just put it down on the table here..." Taking a couple of steps back so everyone could enter, Sam gestured to the table in the middle of the kitchen. "Um, I'll get drinks ready. What would everyone like? I have some water, red wine or this juice Zeph bought at the market...he said it was good." Suspiciously, he shook the bottle: inside a orangey-yellow liquid quivered.
The cheerful smile, the hearty greetings, only encouraged him to fight off a grimace. His eyes glanced around, potentially pleading for something to strike him down, not quite ready for predicted conversations to be had; not adequately prepared for the onslaught of revisiting error after error. But he followed the rest of them in, sliding the food down upon the table, gaze adjusting from any of the siblings to the rest of the house – modestly intrigued until Samuel’s words brought him back to the forefront.
“Wine,” came out of his mouth immediately, the rest of the notions spiraling through his head going unsaid – pondering if it was unwise to utter give me all the alcohol you have before anything had genuinely begun. The Sword hadn’t drank himself into a stupor in lifetimes, but this felt like the right opportunity to try.
“Thank you,” came after, on pretenses of politeness because it was the only thing left in his entity, waiting for a hole to open up beneath him and swallow him into the earth. When it didn’t, he clenched his jaw, looking for avenues of escape when the opportunity truly struck, configuring windows and doors. His stare snapped back to the rest of them, hoping for something to do other than plot his flight to freedom. “Do you need anything else done?”
Amalia, it seems, is the only one enthused by this: a strange turn of events for the usually reticent Shield. She greets Evie's arrival with a bright, warm smile, radiating sisterly affection and hope for a sense of familial closeness that is never to be.
At least Sam is in good spirits. Blissfully oblivious (for now) of the change in his speech patterns, the baker beams at her newly-redeemed brother, dark eyes bright with pride. "Hi Sam. Thanks for having us. You look great." Again, it does not occur to her to question this, though whether due to willful ignorance or true lack of observation skills is hard to say.
Making her way past her brother the Shield deposits her wares on the kitchen table. "Water for me," she calls over her shoulder, already laying out breads and other baked goods. "I was surprised when you said you were moving out here. Would've thought the sun would make it difficult."
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds in the space beneath each eye
Oh thank god they brought alcohol, is the only thought Evie has as she steps through the threshold with a reserved smile. They're not getting through this family dinner without at least Evie consuming dire amounts of it. Especially not when she immediately pins Sam's changed vocal habits, face tightening and fingers clenching so hard around the strap of her bag that the leather make small noises of complaint. Amalia's assurance that Sam had left The Voice had only created more questions for Evie, but to see that he has already returned to her side so soon...especially after Deimos informed her of the Ascended deciding not to fight the LongNight monsters...Evie doesn't even know what to think. So she's definitely eyeing that wine, because tonight she'd rather not think at all.
As they all shuffle in, she places her own food along with the others and manages a smile at her brother. "Wine for me too please." Then she sits shamelessly at the table, arranging herself at the end of one side for either a quick escape or so that she can interfere easier if things go to hell in a handbasket. Very optimistic of her. At least Amalia seems intent on kicking off conversation, and she does her best to trail off it, to engage and be pleasant as long as they all can. To embrace the peace while it lasts. "Just be glad you don't get new freckles anymore, if I spend much more time here I'm going to be more freckle than skin when I go back." Her wry grin is playful, as she has mastered the creation of sunscreen, but even that doesn't seem to hold a candle against Torchline's masterful rays. Her cheeks are already darkened with freckles from the time she has spent here, and it surely won't stop until she returns home.
so they'll remind you of your beauty when they bloom each time you cry
Wine for Deimos and Evie was poured, Sam wondering if their desire for alcohol was a casual want or a desperate ask for some kind of distraction. It was sad, but they were hardly a natural family: awkward tension rolled off everyone's shoulders in the room. Thankfully, just as he was pouring her some water, Amalia began a conversation. After getting himself a glass (more for appearances than anything else), Sam sat down, passing about the drinks.
When he actually heard what she'd said though, he almost froze. Was Amalia hinting that she knew already? Unable to tell if her comment was genuine or a veiled implication, he took a moment to answer, listening to Evie first and smiling, though it quickly fell. "Um...well, it's not too bad. There's plenty of shade and I can stay in the house or my shop most of the day. I used to spend weeks in the Atheneum." He laughed, though it wasn't really a laughing matter, given he was usually there to hide from his family or the outside world at large.
"How was your wedding?" He asked, trying to change the subject, as he looked up to Deimos first then Amalia.
Content with the notion that there is now alcohol in his hand, he took a few swigs before immersing himself into the reel of conversation, only delivering a snicker towards Evie (who apparently also wouldn’t be able to get through the proceedings without assistance). Out of habit, and striving to remain busy, he selected his seating but automatically began cutting and slicing portions of their meat selection, listening all the while. The Sword couldn’t help the underlying tension rankling through, either from the proceedings of LongNight, or something else altogether. His jaw clenched once or twice, clearly not intending to engage in small talk (never been his forte, no matter which life lived).
Samuel’s deflection was an intriguing one, enough so that the monolith turned his head towards the Ascended, an arch to his otherwise reticent features. Suspicion coiled within him, and a brief narrowing of his eyes followed, because their wedding had been slightly before DeepFrost, and there’d been multitudes of other things thereafter.
But he’d play along, for now.
Indulgent, and intending a cheeky grin for Amalia, the vocals rumbled a singular word. “Perfect.” Then a pause, pondering, contorting, waiting for something else to unravel through the tension, attention riveting, pinpointing, back to Sam. “What have you been working on here?”
It's awkward - why is it so awkward? Despite her initial enthusiasm Amalia can feel the anxiety creeping in, shadow fingers pulling at her neurons, her ribs. There's something here she isn't seeing, something she doesn't want to see. And why would she? All Amalia wants is the warmth and safety and comfort of family, a respite from the terrors that haunt them at every turn.
Is that so much to ask?
Deimos' bright grin distracts her away from her ruminations, a smile flickering over her own face as she attempts to swallow down the uncertainty, chalking it up to nerves. "You were there right after," she points out teasingly to Sam, raising an eyebrow as though to ask or did you already forget?
And then she falls quiet, letting him reply to Deimos while she chews on a piece of meat, mulling over an almost-thought that is sure to throw the night into chaos as soon as it comes to the fore.
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds in the space beneath each eye
Sam and Amalia are both such open books, guileless and projecting, and yet Evie - for once in her life - does nothing to divert or comfort. She knows this isn't going to end well, and maybe she should be trying like Amalia is to make it good while it can, but Evie is also so tired. Of being the tie that binds between her siblings. Of trying to navigate Amalia's course against the Ascended while having a twin who has already gone back to his Goddess, while also dealing with the news that Sam and his ilk had been the cause of so many deaths during LongNight, which she is actively planning to overtake with the other man at the table. It's a nightmare concoction, and Evie just...doesn't want a hand in it.
But alas, she's already here, and there's no point in wasting good wine and food. The first glass disappears into her stomach with no more than two swallows, shamelessly. And she internally winces at the way the conversation dances around implications and affairs that she didn't expect to come up so soon. "At least you're used to being a shut in," she tries to offer as a peace bough, smiling wryly. Antagonistic humor at least is something she can fall back on with her twin. And then, because Evie has never quite outgrown her asshole tendencies, she swallows a piece of meat and gives a strained, tooth-filled grin. "First time I ever saw a god, so it's a wedding to go down in my own history book." But she can't be too pointed about it, not something she can begrudge the beautiful couple when it wasn't really their fault. "Are you going to get involved with the local Government Sam? It's a shame you moved, or I would have snatched you up myself. Lorded over you a few more years." The joke is clear enough, meant to dull the snub she herself had just made, and to hopefully keep the area on safer territory a while longer.
How long that lasts, well...Evie isn't putting her money on much past this.
so they'll remind you of your beauty when they bloom each time you cry
Everyone began to eat and Sam sipped at his drink, more aware than ever of the differences between him and most of the people he loved. It hurt, sometimes, not being able to share in the physical, tactile parts of being human; he supposed non-Ascended didn't consider it much, but he so badly wished he could join them all in eating and feeling of this event.
Still, that was only background irritation compared to the panic he felt as tension grew between him and Amalia: she had to know, right? He only laughed at the comment that he had been there right after, having realised right after he'd asked that it was stupid.
"Hm?" Sam looked at Deimos, distracted, before he worked out he'd been asked a question. "Oh, um - well, I just established my cartography shop. I'm still working on stock before it really opens, but I think it's been coming along well; it's an interesting challenge...though I have been thinking I could make a few books too, for old times sake." He doubted Deimos was truly interested, but it was nice of him to make an effort for conversation.
Luckily, Evie reminded him of something he'd actually wanted to talk about. "Oh, um, no, I don't know how things work well enough to be in government here: but I meant to congratulate you. Queen. Has mother been in contact yet? I'm sure she must have sent a letter about how thrilled she was." His eyes met Evies with a familiar tired amusement: they both knew the fake enthusiasm they could expect once their mother discovered a child had done something that would make her look good. "Do you have plans for the Hollowed Grounds....?"
A little more settled, he listened to the banter carry on as he gathered food or sipped at his wine, intent on subject matters at hand. Amalia and Evie snarked, on Samuel being there at the reception hours later, at the Evergreen never seeing a god until then (perhaps she’d had the same luck he’d had). He had no comments to make for the most part, and out of misplaced mischief, attempted to snag a portion of food off of the Shield’s plate.
The Ascended had a semblance of a plan for a cartography shop though, routes, charts, plots, and he nodded in thought. “Are these to be maps of the sea?” Or just the land? Was Samuel intending to embark along the ocean, to traverse amongst sailors? An intriguing thought, given rumored current statuses – uncertain about the level of sun resistance in those who’d left the Voice (if they could at all and then Deimos felt equally ignorant of a lot of these notions).
Then there were parental relations he couldn’t, and wouldn’t comment on, not his place, only arching a brow while picking at some of the meat, the inquiry for Evie hanging in the air. Some of the proposals and schemes had already begun to take effect, and he pondered about giving the inquiry on his tongue a voice. Often he merely sat back while the rest of the world poked and prodded; but the topic weighed heavily on his mind, and after clenching his jaw, pressing over the apprehension, and heading straight to the source – piercing gaze settling upon Sam. “I heard the Ascended had an option of potentially destroying the LongNight monsters.” Not revealing his source, nor their upcoming plans, simply skimming along the surface.
