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!
It had taken Sam a couple of days after the Ascended meeting to work up the courage to find another one of his family to talk to, still dealing with the potentially irrational fear of one of them still holding in violent rage over his choice to leave the Voice, even when he had returned. He finally decided to come and see Amun for a few reasons: he knew the man had skills to teach, thought he was probably not the sort to explode in a fit of anger, and they had spoken previously, so it was not as daunting as a first meeting.
Locating his shop, Sam held in his hands a heavy bag containing what he'd been told at the market was a good quality clay: he really had no idea about these things, but he'd thought it was a nice colour, a deep rustic red. Leaning to look around the door, he knocked, hoping he'd caught a day where the potter was willing to have some company. "Amun? It's Samuel, could I come in...?"
Amun was seated at his pottery wheel. On it, a piece of clay was between his hands. Kicking every once in a while at the base, his fingers pinched and prodded and shaped the wet clay. Under his careful manipulations, it began to take shape as a tall, thin necked vase.
As Sam spoke up, however, the potter twitched. His careful work was disrupted as he pushed the vase too much and the neck sealed itself. Groaning, he let the wheel rumble to a halt.
Only then did he look up at his his fellow Ascended. "What do you need?" Amun's voice came out in a carefully neutral tone, but he found himself scowling at the redhead. Standing up, the potter folded his arms across his chest. It smeared clay on the apron and on his shirtsleeves, but he was splattered pretty much from head to toe with the stuff and covered with paint to boot, so he didn't care much.
In one corner of the room was a carefully made cot with a locked chest at the foot of it. The shelves were lined with finished pieces, while a workstation in another corner had numerous shapes in various stages of completion. There were a few stools around the workstation. A kiln was opposite the workstation, and the wheel was in the center of it all.
The first sound to greet his arrival was a groan, which was not a great sign. Sam took a nervous step in, already feeling like he had to be a bother. "Oh, I just...well, I was hoping I could ask you to teach me something, actually." As if only just realising as he said it how much of awkward request that was, his shoulders slumped in and Sam held his elbows, sighing and looking down at the ground.
He'd never really been one for overly messy work, and from the looks of Amun this would be that...Sam sighed. "The Voice told me to spend more time with other Ascended...especially those with skills, and, well..." He smiled, thinking it might help to butter Amun up a little. "You do make the best pots I've seen. So would you mind showing me just the basics?"
Arms still crossed, Amun just raised his eyebrow as Sam explained his presence at the studio. For a long moment the potter was silent. When he finally did speak, his tone was carefully neutral. "So let me get this straight. The Voice told you to hang out with your fellow Ascended and maybe learn a few things? And that is the only reason you are here?" He was careful not to let his expression or features give away any of what he was thinking or feeling.
Finally he cocked his head to one side and responded to the redhead's question about showing the other man the ropes. "That depends." Amun stood there and steadily regarded Sam.
"..Um.." Sam had not been expecting this line of questioning from Amun, and didn't know how to answer. Really, the answer was yes, that was why; he didn't consider them all that close, and he would not have come if were not for the Voice. Somehow though, he felt that probably wasn't the answer Amun wanted.
Deciding that honesty was probably still the best policy (he hoped), Sam nodded, shuffling from foot to foot. "Yes, if I am to be honest. I am not very good at approaching people by myself; of course, I would like to know all my Ascended family better. I just...well, I don't know how everyone feels about what I did, leaving the Voice." Looking up to meet Amun's eyes, he hoped this might explain his actions. "I have been hurt by other members of our family, so I'm cautious to approach anyone. ..Or I was, until the Voice said I had to."
Listening to Sam's explanation, Amun stared directly at the redhead. The potter's mouth grew tighter and his brow furrowed. When the other man finished, Amun didn't say anything at first, just stood silently and unmoving.
When he finally did speak he didn't move from the spot he'd planted himself. "Why did you leave the Voice? And which of the Ascended hurt you? Besides Nate, which doesn't count because it was a personal relationship." His eyes narrowed. "Or, to put it another way, which Ascended have hurt you because they were Ascended? Because I'm assuming members of other races have hurt you too and I'm curious to know if you avoid every race whose members have hurt you."
Lowering his hands to his side he took a single step forward. "And if I do teach you, what then? Will you go away and never speak to me again unless you need something? Or are you planning to stick to the spirit of what the Voice asked of you and not just the letter?" His hands balled into fists.
Well, it was immediately clear that Sam had made the wrong choice in answering honestly. Amun was visibly mad and he grimaced, already wondering how he could best make a swift exit; he supposed the least he could do was hear Amun out.
He wasn't expecting the flurry of questions and without thinking gave answers, caught by surprise and running on instinct. "I left because I've always had...issues with things the Voice does, and how she does them, and how the Ascended are...essentially trapped in her service. I wanted to see if I could survive without her. ...I couldn't, so I'm back, and now I'm trying harder to see things her way." With mixed results.
As for other Ascended... "Wessex stabbed me, so I think I'm allowed to be a little cautious." It was unlike Sam to be so confrontational but in this one instance, he felt justified. "Specifically because I had left the Voice, so I'm nervous other Ascended might take similar issue and hurt me. That is why I'm wary of Ascended." Automatically his hand went to his stomach, where the faintest of scars remained from the attack.
It seemed though that this was all more of a personal matter for Amun as the man went on and Sam took a cautious step inside. "..I...I always assume people would rather be rid of me, but if you'd have me, I'd love to have a new friend. If it wouldn't bother you, I could visit when I'm in the Grounds."
Cocking his head to one side Amun felt his eyes narrow. "The Voice never asked me to do anything I wasn't individually comfortable with. And she has always freely given her fluid without strings attached." Pausing, he fixed Sam with as piercing a look as the potter could muster. "So how is what she asks any different from what the old gods ask their followers to do?" He spread his arms, palms up.
As the redhead continued, Amun smirked. "Wessex stabbed me too. She's a violent person, she is. But we're both still here so it couldn't have been that bad." Placing his hands on his hips he regarded the other Ascended steadily. "So that's two. Have the rest of us ever given you any reason to worry?" Sighing, Amun shook his head.
Rolling his eyes, he unexpectedly grinned. "You idiot." Chuckling, he dropped his hands and headed towards a peg on the wall that held an apron. "All I want is for the Ascended to get along. With me, and with each other. So yes, I would very much like this to be the start of a relationship. Call it a friendship or family bonding or whatever you like. And don't worry, I don't bite." He winked. "Unless you want me to."
Taking the apron down he tossed it at Sam. "Come on then. Tell me what you want to make." The potter gestured for the redhead to follow Amun towards the workstation in the corner.
"...Well, that might be the case for you, but it isn't for everyone, and if someone did want to leave the Voice and pursue other paths, they cannot; without the fluid she brings, which does come with strings, by the way - she just hasn't pulled them for you-" Sam was not often one to come back with witty retorts or coherent arguments, but he was grumpy enough about this to put real effort into the formation of his words and thoughts he'd had for so long. "-they die."
Hearing that he was not the only Wessex-stabbing victim was both surprising and not. He was about to argue that several of the Ascended had actually given him a reason to worry, but then something in Amun seemed to thankfully change; Sam caught the apron (fumbling, but caught successfully) and walked further in. "I'm fine without the bite, thank you. I know what happens." He tried out a smirk, easing into the more friendly atmosphere.
Sam had not thought far enough along this plan to actually have an idea of what to make and he paused on his way to the workstation, trying to think about it. "I suppose...a plate or something would be easy, right?"
Scoffing, Amun crossed his arms again. "What did the Voice ask you to do that you weren't willing to do? And what did she do to you when you refused?" Pressing his lips together, he stared directly at Sam. "And when you Ascended, weren't you told there was no going back? What the cost would be?" The potter shook his head slightly.
Smirking again, he shrugged. "Suit yourself." When the redhead asked to make a plate, Amun raised an eyebrow. "A plate? No. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right." He chuckled, then gestured for the other man to take a seat on one of the stools by the workstation.
As the other Ascended did, the potter pulled out a bucket of water and took down some unworked clay. "We're going to make a vase. But we'll start with the basics of all pottery." He nodded at the water. "Dry clay is impossible to work. So wet your hands and the clay to start." Settling onto his own stool right next to Sam, the potter leaned forward to watch the redhead work.
09-01-2020, 06:00 PM (This post was last modified: 09-01-2020, 06:18 PM by Samuel.)
Thank you for finding me
And thank you for the care
"...I ascended at 16, when the Voice wasn't around like she was now. I'm sure it was all explained to me, but what was explained to me more than anything was that I was going to be disowned if I didn't." Sam replied quietly, sadly; he wasn't sure if he had been able to conceptualise forever back then, it would have changed anything: he had been then so desperate for his parent's approval he might have still gone ahead with it anyway.
Anyway, the mood was swiftly shifting for the better and making things with clay was much more cheerful than discussing his sad Ascension. Tying on the apron at his back with a neat bow, Sam laughed as Amun disregarded his suggestion of a plate. "I'm a beginner, I thought it might be simple." He argued, sitting down at the workstation.
Still, as Amun got down the clay and suggested a vase, Sam decided he'd try his best, even if he thought that it was likely beyond his skills. "It's going to be wonky." He insisted, taking the clay and dipping his hands in the water. After a moment of uncertainty if it could really be so simple, he slapped his hands onto the clay and began to push it around and run his hands over it, getting it wet. "Like this?"
"So you chose not to get disowned. Which, you know, sucks. But it was a choice."
Shooting a look at Sam, Amun shrugged. "More choice than I had. I was brought into this world without being asked." He smirked. "Copied into it, apparently." Beating a rhythm against the edge of the workstation, he fixed his gaze on the redhead. "Regardless of what you did and didn't know, has she ever denied you fluid when you refused to complete a task for her?"
Chuckling the potter winked at the other man. "Where's the fun in simple? Come on, live a little dangerously." Grinning, Amun spun around on his stool. "Besides, this way you'll actually learn the whole process."
Snorting, he shook his head. "You say wonky. I say unique." However, when Sam actually began working with the clay the potter leaned forward and watched every move the redhead made. "It's a start. But make sure you don't just wet the outer layer. You need to work it into the whole clay. Like this." Reaching forward, he laid his hands over the redhead's, pressing them deeply into the clay.
Letting go of the other man, Amun reached for a piece of wire. "Once that's done you slice off as much clay as you'll need to make whatever it is you're trying tom make." Smirking, he dangled the wire in front of Sam.
Defeated, not really wanting to discuss this anymore, Sam shrugged and shook his head, quietly admitting: I suppose not. And while he hadn't, he thought they both had to know that often with Gods it was just as much about what they didn't say.
At least they had something to focus on other than the Voice. Taking on the challenge, Sam began to make sure he dug his fingers into the clay and wet it all as Amun instructed, beginning to say: "Unique isn't always good-" When there were suddenly hands over his, Amun behind him; Sam reflexively stiffened, not expecting the contact, but did not pull away, letting his hands follow the motions Amun set.
Somewhat embarrassed after that, he took the wire but didn't entirely meet Amun's eyes as he did, then sliced off what he thought was a reasonable amount of clay for a small vase. "What...what do you make the most of, here? I imagine people want a lot of cups?"
Shrugging, Amun grinned at Sam. "Neither is plain and simple. And at least unique means it's more likely to be remembered." Clapping the redhead on the back, the potter left a smear of clay on the other man's shirt.
Amun glanced at Sam when the redhead stiffened. However, the potter remained silent, just lifted his hands. Chuckling at the question he started playing with an errant piece of clay. "People do sure break a lot of cups. So yes, cups, plates, bowls, that sort of thing. The every day essentials. The ones they're less careful with."
Jumping to his feet, he grasped the other man's shoulder. "Time for the wheel. I'll teach you how to spin it first." Attempting to pull Sam to his feet, the potter would lead the redhead to the wheel at the center of the room.
Regardless, Amun would sit. Pointing at the small wheel below the larger one, he kicked it, sending the cylinder at the center and therefore the whole center spinning. "You want to kick that until you hit the right speed. Then consistently kick it to maintain it." He demonstrated for a bit before letting it rumble to a halt. "Your turn." He sprang up and gestured for the other man to try.
