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!
Dusk had turned the sky over the ocean a lovely mix of purple and orange and for the first time in a while, Sam was having a walk free of worry, for the most part. There were, of course, the usual doubts and concerns floating through his mind (and every few steps, the healing scar of Wessex's attack tugged against his skin), but he found he was able to look out to the ocean, the reflection of the waning sun turning the waves furthest away a deep gold, and smile.
Finally, he realised he'd made it to a bit of shore he did not often visit and from the lack of footprints in the unbroken dry sand, it seemed that no one else had in a while either. Humming to himself, Sam turned to look back at Haulani: visible, the lights in the night making it easy to navigate back to, so he decided to go on. Eventually he came to some shallow rock pools and sat by the side of one to glimpse in.
With only a couple of small crabs and colourful fish, it wasn't all that interesting and Sam's attention returned again to the sea, and his humming began anew. It wasn't long before he began to whisper words, then look around to make sure no one was there: it had been a while since he'd sung, and he found it oddly appealing in the moment. Closing his eyes, he softly sang out to the sea, a song he'd once read in a book:
Oh have you heard the news, my Johnny?
One more day!
We're homeward bound tomorrow,
One more day!
Only one more day, my Johnny
Only one more day!
Oh rock and row me over,
One more day!
No one’s there until Ianto just...is. Credit to the fox, at least - he knows how to make a fuckin’ entrance. Ianto’s Deepfrost has been terribly cold and boring, but y’know what? He’s managed to shrug off the veil of depression that’s been cloying at him for so long, and in the wake of the melting snows, he decides to give Torchline another go. Why not? Greatwood isn’t going anywhere, as far as he’s aware. (Please correct him if he’s wrong, only Ianto can lose a great big bloody forest).
Having come through the portal, he takes the wagon from his pocket (yep, read that correctly) and tosses it onto the sand where it becomes the actual, real, proper, full-sized Wishing Wagon. Hopping on the back of it and nudging it forward - what powers it? Fuck if Ianto knows - he lets it trundle along the smooth sands, the moody light of the dying sun playing through his coppery hair.
Letting out a whoop of enjoyment, he slumps back on the step of the wagon as it comes rocking to a stop near some pools, Ianto taking out his pipe so he can enjoy a smoke over the sunset. It’s quiet, and someone’s singing - yeah, Torchline isn’t so bad after all.
Sam was trying to remember the second verse of the song, humming a few repeated bars from the chorus, when he heard a sound as if some large contraption was falling towards him: somewhat alarmed he turned and for a moment, thought he was looking at Remi and Ronin's wagon...but no, this was considerably larger and quite a lot fancier. Once he'd established that he wasn't about to get run over by a whimsical chunk of wood, he noticed that there was a man there too.
His eyes widened: oh no, had he been overheard? Very swiftly growing embarrassed he stood up, noticing the smell of smoke as he stepped closer. "Um..hello, I um..." Sam realised he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, just that he'd wanted to talk first before the silence between them got too awkward (because clearly, this was so much better). "...I hope you didn't hear my singing. There's usually not that many people on this end of the beach."
Ianto is enjoying his pipe and the rich light of the sunset, one leg hanging from the wagon step, a fox’s tail flicking to and fro from his partial shift. He exhales a few smoke rings when the voice calls out a greeting; about the same time as the singing stops, he notes. ”Oh - hello!” Ianto smiles at the approaching man, gold flashing in his teeth, and he lowers his pipe to pay more attention.
”I was quite enjoying it actually. What was it you were singing?” he asks, shifting up a bit and patting the step beside him, as if to invite the man up. ”I wouldn’t know, ‘bout the beach I mean. I’ve only been here once, and I wasn’t paying much attention to the beach. Cracking view though, eh?”
Ianto's appearance was certainly interesting; it was only after the man had said hello that Sam noticed the tail, which made him smile despite his embarrassment. It was oddly sweet, even on a grown man, and Sam found that it made him warm to whoever this was right away.
"Oh, you..were?" He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck; Sam had never been told he was gifted in musical arts, not with his voice nor the few instruments his parents had tried to thrust upon him in his youth. "A song I read in a book a few years ago...I'm not sure if I have the tune right. It was about a woman whose lover had gone to sea, um, I think." He said, trying to play it casual, as if he had not been in love with the romantic vision of a heartbroken romantic gazing out to the ocean, hands clasped over her breast.
"How could you not pay attention to the beach?" He asked, a little laugh in his voice as he sat down next to Ianto, finding himself actually happy to meet someone, given that this man seemed friendly (and not an assassin, like the last one, hopefully). "...I'm Samuel." Sam held out a hand to shake with a smile. "And you?"
”Aye - they say there’s something about the sea that makes people more musical.” Who they were and whether they did in fact say as much isn’t necessarily something that Ianto knows for certain, and nor does he care. Still, he shifts up a bit to make more comfortable room for the other man, replacing his pipe between his lips. ”Ah, lost loves. You see? More musical, more dramatic - the sea’s just like a woman that way. Not that I ought to say stuff like that. I know plenty of ladies who could wipe the floor with me.”
Chuckling and exhaling sweet smoke, reaching out to clasp Sam’s hand in return; the fox’s grip is firm, warm, calloused. ”Ianto,” he greets in return, glancing back out at the waves. ”I was a bit preoccupied last time. In a bad way or whatever. But this time - damn. Sunset’s pulling out all the stops for me.”
"That must be it I suppose, because I'm not musical at all anywhere else." Sam laughed, still embarrassed but glad that Ianto was being kind about overhearing him. Not having much experience with women romantically, he couldn't comment on the ocean's similarity. "The sea could too, though, at a storm. I think it's quite a nice metaphor...maybe just for love in general, though. Not women specifically. Love on it's own can be tumultuous." He certainly knew about that: idle thoughts of his many, many failed crushes passed through his head.
Glad that he didn't have lungs for the smoke to get into, Sam just enjoyed the slightly sweet scent as he shook Ianto's hand. "Ianto." He repeated, frowning as he took his hand back, the name shaking loose a memory in his mind: after a moment, he looked up with curious, wide eyes - could this be the same lover that Remi had once known? "...Do you know the governor here, Remi?"
”Nowhere else at all? Not even in the privacy of your own shower?” Ianto chuckles, finding that hard to believe. Even the least musical people tend to have a little warble when no one’s around to hear them, right? Still, Sam’s comments about love and the sea do strike a chord with Ianto, and the fox gives him a nod and takes the pipe from his lips, holding it out in case the other man wants a pull from it.
”Tumultuous is certainly a word for it,” he remarks, tapping the heel of his boot back against the wagon step, blue eyes flicking back up to Sam’s face as his name is repeated, as he looks almost like he’s remembering him from another story, another place. Then, of course, he mentions Remi, Ianto flashing another golden grin in his direction.
”Aye, intimately,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. ”Not so much these days, of course, but I’ve a mind to build a bridge with him. He was a good friend before he was anything else, and they’re hard to come by these days. You know him as well, I take?”
"...Well, maybe there, but no one else can hear it." Sam laughed, not having considered his shower-performances of folk songs and tales to imaginary audiences. His laughter trailed off as he looked down at the pipe being offered, blinked a couple of times...then took it. It wasn't like it'd actually effect him in any meaningful way, and he had always been curious about how these things tasted. Holding the end to his lips, he breathed in: immediately it caught the back of his throat and he began to cough, not used to the acrid taste of smoke.
He just nodded and handed the pipe back as Ianto agreed with him about the sea, still wiping at his eyes, which leaked tears of fluid down his cheeks. Sam managed to recover as Remi was discussed, taking a couple of breaths to try and clear his throat.
Intimately certainly was a bold way to put it; Sam actually found the honesty quite refreshing. "I do. ..I was..ah...intimate with him too, once, though of course not anymore." He assumed Ianto was aware that the Governor was married. "I must warn you, he's quite different nowadays, and um...he insists on not having any friends."
”No one that you know of,” Ianto says, mischievously tapping the side of his nose as if he’s in on some kind of conspiracy. Still, Sam takes the pipe and Ianto lets his blue eyes wander - for a second, anyway, until the distinct sound of someone choking on smoke draws his attention back. ”Hey, you okay?” he asks through a laugh, accepting the pipe back where it couldn’t do any further harm to the redhead.
Then talk moves to Remi, and the fox barks out a laugh to hear that they both know him - and in similar ways too. ”Well look at that - we got a governor in common,” he says jovially, his tail flicking in amusement. ”And that may well be the case, but I’m more stubborn than he is. Still, I’ll keep it in mind - never know what might have changed in a season or two, huh. So you live in Torchline now?”
"Oh dear. Have you been lurking by my shower before this meeting?" Sam joked, hoping that his venture into teasing would be taken well; hopefully less embarrassing than his choking on the smoke, which he managed to curtail down after a moment or two, wiping tears from his eyes and letting a little laughter punctuate the last few coughs. "...I've just never taken anything like that before. Is it always so...bitter?"
It certainly seemed like this man was of good spirits, anyway. It was almost relieving to hear someone laughed about shared history with Remi, instead of it being the awkward painful thing it often was. "I do! I moved here at the beginning of the season; before that I lived in the Hollowed Grounds...since I was born. You're an Outlander, right? Remi used to tell me about you and your old world." Getting a little more comfortable, Sam leaned back against the wagon.
”Of course not!” Ianto’s grin is mischievous. ”At least, that’s what I have to say so people don’t start checking if I’m lurking. How else will I get my fill of musical talent?” He shrugs, like it’s the way of the world, taking another draw on the pipe and blowing a large smoke ring out into the air. ”It depends on the herbs, I think,” he says of it. ”Some are stronger or more bitter than others. I’ll bring you a more mellow one to try.”
It seems a lot of people are living in Torchline now - Ianto is still quite attached to the Greatwood, but he can certainly see the appeal. ”That’s right,” he says of his status of Outlander, leaning back against the wagon a well to watch the sun start to dip below the horizon. ”I prefer this though, to be honest. Then again I have never lived in the Hollowed Grounds, so I don’t know what that was like. Can’t have been paradise, for you to move away right?”
Sam laughed, shaking his head. "You certainly won't be getting it hiding in my bathroom." It was nice to find someone he could easily joke around with right away and the smile on his face was persistent, staying even through the last couple of coughs, Sam still able to smell the smoke in Ianto's pipe. "Thank you, though I'm not sure you should waste your supplies on me, since it won't work anyway."
There had indeed been quite the move to Torchline from the grounds and Sam had honestly not been too surprised by it; compared to the Grounds, this place was a paradise and while it certainly had dangers and problems, they weren't the ones he was used to and as far as he could tell, didn't have as high a body count. "Hardly. It...has a lot of poor memories, for me. I've been there my entire life and it can be a miserable place. Not that I've totally escaped everything by being here, but...at least the scenery is nicer."
He stretched, watching the sun too, trying to think of ways to continue the conversation without revealing too much about himself and his problems. "Though I've heard it's going to be monsoon season soon...you might not want to be here for that. I've never experienced a monsoon, but they say it's not pleasant. Do you like storms?"
”Hey, now. You should let your audience be the judge of that. Not that I am even remotely listening to you in your shower.” Ianto is starting to believe his own hype, enjoying the little narrative he’s weaving for himself as a secret connoisseur of shower music. But Sam’s next point is an interesting one, and Ianto tilts his head curiously. ”What do you mean?” he asks.
Then, as the other man explains about his move from the Hollowed Grounds to Torchline, Ianto can only chuckle in agreement. ”Y’know, that’s one of the best reasons I’ve heard,” he says, casting his gaze out to the sun, the waves, the beach. ”The scenery certainly is better...”
Although, if what Sam has to say is to be believed, Ianto might not have picked the best time to come and visit. Glancing back to him, Ianto shivers a bit and wrinkles his nose. ”I’m afraid to say I’m not a fan,” he admits. ”I didn’t realise such a season existed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a monsoon either. What about you?”
