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!
Contrary to popular Cian’s belief, Finn is actually very dedicated to his work, and he’s good at his job too. He’s been in the Grounds after a few days of rest at home. Rest that wasn’t entirely restful, true, but necessary nonetheless.
And he feels about the Hollowed Grounds a sort of sadness, a longing to be better, if only the world gives the place a chance. It reminds Finn of himself in more than one way.
Enough about that, though. He’s been keeping an eye on Amalia for days now, his notes diligent, his distance well kept. He’s been careful to stay out of sight and out of the way - but as is the norm with Finn, the longer he stays somewhere, the more his own mind turns against him.
He’s weary, headed for the inn where he’s been staying, the collar on his coat turned up against the fine rain. And he isn’t looking where he’s going one bit.
08-20-2020, 10:51 PM (This post was last modified: 08-21-2020, 04:07 PM by Amalia.)
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
Lucky for the Spyglass, Amalia is very good at being oblivious. She has utterly failed to notice the shadow that's been tailing her the past few days, too caught up in her own inner turmoil and too accustomed to furtive glances for a watcher to register.
It's entirely by coincidence that the Shield does catch Finn. She is coming out of the inn itself, having made her daily delivery to stock its kitchen with bread. It feels bizarre to be continuing her work and routine when her world is tumbling upside down, but it's the only place she can find solace, the only consistency she has.
She isn't paying any attention as she leaves the inn, and finds herself bumping into the person just outside- literally, her sharp shoulder catching him squarely in his chest. "Oh!" she exclaims, eyes widening in surprise, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tries to regain some semblance of composure. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see- Finn?" Silhouetted in the light of the open door, Amalia blinks her surprise. "What, ah- hello."
Honestly, if it hadn’t been a person he’d likely have walked into the door itself, such is Finn’s distraction. His mind is on the Climb, on prior conversations, on the feel of a hand brushing over his and the sound of a music box, and as Amalia bumps into him, the file beneath his arm goes tumbling onto the cobbles. It doesn’t spill, luckily, but it’s still not where Finn would like it to be. Especially since, given their height difference, the baker is in a perfect position to knock the air out of him.
”My fault,” he manages, stepping back and holding up a hand as if to apologise as well through the tightening in his diaphragm. He’s halfway to picking up the file when she calls him by name, and Finn glances up with stormy eyes and fuuuuuuuuuuuck. The occasion calls for it, he promises.
”Amalia,” he says, grateful for being winded given that it already twists his expression into a grimace - it saves the suspicion. ”I... did not know you were back from Torchline.” Better put out your pants there, Finn. They’re on fire.
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
She really hadn't meant to wound him so thoroughly, her embarrassment only deepening as he doubles over, clearly winded. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry," she apologizes again, dropping instinctively to the ground to help collect the file he's lost, her slender fingers grasping tightly around its spine. "Are you okay? I can, I can heal you if you like. Here." Her face is earnest and concerned as she peers up at him, the beginning of a chagrined smile curling her lips.
Her arms wrap around her as she straightens up, wondering if she'll ever have a normal encounter with Finn. "Oh, I- we- I've been back for a few days." She releases her hold on her chest enough to grab her long gold plait, fingers running over the tail of it. "What are you doing in the Grounds? Have you been here for long?"
He shouldn’t be here. Not this close, certainly not speaking - and gods if it doesn’t occur to him to run right away. Regrettably Finn is still trying to stop his diaphragm from pitching a fit, and he couldn’t run anywhere if he tried. ”I’m alright,” he manages with the faintest of smiles, accepting the file back and forcing himself to straighten. A few steady inhales and he’s at least halfway back to normal breathing capacity - and thus the panic is able to flood back in.
”I see,” he murmurs, knowing exactly how long she’s been back for, and where she has come back from, and the potential consequences of such a trip. But he can’t say any of that, so he lingers awkwardly instead. ”Oh, just... a day or so. I had a few errands to run,” he explains, huffing out another breath and seeming to be recovered. ”I... are you staying at the inn?”
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
Mistaking his emotional discomfort for physical pain, Amalia frowns and shakes her head, reaching out a hand. "Here, let me help," she offers again, closing her eyes before he can protest and calling forth a gentle breeze to wrap around them both, soothing what injuries remain. It's the least she can do, given her own part in this.
"Oh? I'm surprised I haven't seen you around." It's a small area, after all, and newcomers and foreigners tend to stand out. The errands are mysterious enough, but Amalia doesn't press it. He'd seem reluctant to talk about his home and work last time, and she's already made this situation painfully awkward.
She releases her braid with a shake of her head, a somewhat puzzled expression on her face. "No, I... I live here. I have a house." And another house, and a flat above the bakery, but that seems unnecessary to bring up.
Another awkward moment passes, the silence growing oppressive. "So... how much longer are you in town? I, I could show you around. If you like."
”Hm...?” The gentle breeze musses his curls around his face and makes him shiver, even under his coat. He despises it, this urge to peel off his skin at the feel of her magic, both wanting it desperately close and wanting it nowhere near him. The fact that he knows where it has come from and why makes it exquisitely worse, and Finn swallows back all the words he wants to say, save for the obvious. ”I didn’t know you could do that.” And, because it’s polite, ”Thank you.”
He hasn’t seen her around because he’s been hiding from her on purpose, and if that isn’t another thing to set his teeth on edge he doesn’t know what is. ”Ah... Of course you do.” You’re so smooth, Finn, you might slide off the steps and down the nearest drain if you wish hard enough.
The Spyglass needs to get away from this meeting as quickly as possible - he needs to not be here, especially with her, especially right now. But gods if the sound of her voice, if the gentle offer of something as simple as a walk around the place isn’t a shred of normality in the loud and pressing madness of his life...
”That sounds nice,” he says, despite himself. ”I’ll probably be leaving soon. This is the last opportunity I’ll have to look around.”
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
"It's ah... it's new." She flushes slightly, awkwardly, not wanting to say more. Amalia has nothing but pride for her new position, for the changes coming over her, but to be proud and to flaunt are separate things and the last thing she wants is for people to start looking at her as a demigod- if that's what she is. But the delight she feels creeps onto her face, the undeniable awe of being able to heal through a gift from Vi warming her expression considerably. "You're welcome."
She remains painfully oblivious to his discomfort, too focused on drawing him out of his anxiety to realize that she's the cause of it. A rather unusual situation for her to find herself in, but something about the man who knows nothing about her (she thinks) makes her feel a little bit safer to be more of herself. Though her expression falters when he reveals that he'll be leaving soon she recovers quickly, regaining her smile, a stubborn glint to her eye. "Then I suppose we'll have to see all she can tonight," she declares. "I have a couple more deliveries to make, but you can come with if you like? Only... only if you want, of course. Sorry. I shouldn't, ah..."
There it is at last, the fumbling anxiety catching up to her in a sudden, merciless burst. It's visible in the flush of her face that she has suddenly remembered she has no idea if he even wants to see her, if he hasn't been trying to avoid her intentionally. She drops her eyes, grabbing her wrist to rub her fingers anxiously on the scar that isn't there, not wanting to push any further but neither wanting to give up yet.
It’s new, and they both know it is, and neither one of them particularly wants to talk about it just now. And that suits Finn just fine. Still, as she offers to show him more of the Grounds, to walk with her as she goes on her deliveries... He takes a slow breath in through his nose, running fingers through his curls. That’s very kind, but I must be on my way. I have a lot to do, and I need to be getting on.
”Give me a moment to put this away. I’d like that.” Not the sentence he had practiced in his head, not even close. Good job, Finn. He steps into the inn, folder back under his arm, and heads up to his room to deposit everything, returning only a minute later to slip back out onto the rain-misted streets. ”Lead the way,” he suggests, a soft smile on his lips.
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
Her anxiety comes in waves, ebbing out when he agrees, flowing in when he disappears. Only when he reemerges does it begin to dissipate, leaving Amalia with a small, shy smile curling at her lips. "Alright. This way."
She leads him through the misty streets, pointing out curios and landmarks as they go. Their first stop is a tucked away house; Amalia steps up and knocks on the door, which opens to reveal a slender woman whose tired expression brightens at the sign of the baker. She takes the offered loaf with gratitude on her face, then calls back to someone inside the house.
A boy, maybe ten, rockets out, throwing his arms around the surprised Shield. Beaming and flushed she returns the embrace, holding close the boy she saved during LongNight and basking in the sensation of his heartbeat, so wonderfully wild and alive. It's with some reluctance she pulls away, promising to return soon, and turns back to rejoin her companion.
"Sorry. Their family has had a difficult time, so I make sure to check in on them often." Shrugging as though this was the most normal thing in the world, she moves to continue on their tour. "Have you seen the Spark Bird perch?"
He falls easily into step with her, stomach doing a fun little backflip that he can’t place. So instead Finn buries his hands in the pockets of his coat, collar turned up against the rain. For a moment he misses his umbrella, that he might shield them both from it, but when he remembers its fate - blown across the beach whilst he tries to catch something from Remi - he promptly banishes it from his mind. Even a ghost of a thought of the Alchemist is enough to make his throat dry and his fingers cold.
They’re on their way, though, the Spyglass glancing at each landmark and curiosity that Amalia deigns to point out, until they’re suddenly at a house. He lingers back, letting her do her work without getting in the way too much, though the sight of the boy handing out such easy affection... it’s a lot. He swallows hard, Finn trying to avert his gaze but finding himself not quite able to, though he’s relieved when the Shield returns to him.
”There is no need to apologise for caring,” he says quietly. ”I don’t believe I have, no. I believed the bird to be nothing more than a legend.” It shouldn’t feel this easy to walk beside her, to have such easy conversations. What was it Falke had told him? He doesn't remember.
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
He seems uneasy again, though Amalia is beginning to suspect that may be his baseline. Still his quiet acceptance of her apology gives her a happy flush; she pushes a lock of damp hair behind her ear, revealing a collection of shrapnel-like scars on her temple.
"We thought so too, for centuries. But three years ago it came during LongNight and kept the monsters away. It was beautiful." Wistfully she remembers that incredible moment, walking out of the infirmary and seeing the blazing bird upon its perch. It had been worth the price of dying. "It came again this year... toward the end."
They've reached the skeletal remains of the perch now, still not torn down. Made of metal with faded decorations, it's already showing signs of disrepair, scorch marks on its massive branches. Stepping towards it the Shield lays her hand upon the iron, closing her eyes for a moment. "I made a promise to help return it to its home. If all goes well we won't need it, next LongNight." It's clear from the sudden edge in her tone that she does not have a lot of faith in all going well. Whatever assurances Sam has made do little to soothe the anger that fills her, thinking about the decision to condemn them to another year of torment and her brother's part in it all.
Observant as Finn is (and scattershot though it may be, a lot of the time), he notices the silvery marks that gather along the Shield’s hairline, stormy gaze lingering on them for perhaps longer than they ought to. His fingers twitch in his pockets, the Spyglass forcing his gaze forward again to wherever Amalia is to lead them next. ”Twice in almost as many years, after centuries of silence,” he remarks, the words sounding heavy on his tongue. There’s implication there, if he looks hard enough. A clue as to the state of the world; breadcrumbs leading them to here and now.
They arrive at the perch, and Finn furrows his brow at the state of it. ”Do you know where its home is?” he asks, glancing sidelong at her and stepping carefully towards it, eyes raking along its branches, like he can see the flames. He can’t help but incline his head towards her, though, at her second point. ”Why not?” he asks. ”From all I have read, the Longnight in the Hollowed Grounds is... unpleasant.”
& oh, poor atlas - the world's a beast of a burden
She shakes her head immediately, though she's begun to develop suspicions. "I don't, but.. there's a land past Halo that's full of fire. Maybe it came from there." It would make sense, Amalia supposes.
His second question is trickier. Amalia steps back from the perch before answering, her brows knitting together as she bites her lip in thought. "That's... putting it very mildly." Flashes of red, of black, of death burst throughout her mind; she closes her eyes, breathing deeply, in two three four, out two three. Almond eyes open up again, her gaze turning up to the nest on the perch. "There are... monsters. Bastardizations of the Voice. Every year they rip apart anyone they can get their hands on, even stealing the bodies of the dead." She shudders.
Tilting her head for him to follow, Amalia sets back down the road. "Supposedly the Ascended have a plan to finally stop them before LongNight comes again." Again, it's evident by Amalia's tone that her faith in this is limited at best. "But even if they fail... it isn't fair for the Spark Bird to stay trapped here. Not when the world is opening up, and the rest of us are free."
