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!
There were days, since Rexanna had died, where the home they had shared was suddenly chokingly claustrophobic to him, where he had to break out before the memories and stacked boxes of her things made him want to scream: Azrael would be dropped off at a neighbours, Bastien all smiles until he turned away, then he could wander elsewhere for a few hours and breathe (figuratively).
He wasn't sure what had possessed him to come to the temple; it was if anything far worse than his home, the site where Rexanna had died right there at the door, but his feet had begun to head in that direction and before he knew it, Bastien was there, staring at the door with a blank face, lost. More distressing than any emotions he was feeling was that he was not actually feeling anything; stood there before the temple, he felt nothing. Just numb.
Needing to get away from his own apparent apathy he had dashed inside and gone to sit on a pew near the door, head in his hands, desperate to work out his own head but finding he almost couldn't. At least there was peace and quiet there, a gentle song being sung at the end of the hall near the altar and light gently filtering in through the windows, enough to illuminate the stone flags without hurting him. Leaning against the row before him, Bastien stared up at the ceiling of the temple, looking to the world who didn't know him like any other eager disciple praying to the Old Gods.
Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space
and look for the stars as the sun goes down each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
To see Amalia in the temple is hardly uncommon: indeed, aside from her bakery this is her most frequent haunt in the Settlement, the place she comes to clear her head. She's brought fresh scones for each of the heralds, ingredients chosen carefully to correspond with their personalities; they are laid out in front of the shrines in quiet offering, each one accompanied by a heartfelt prayer.
She is on her way out when she spots Bastien lingering in a pew. The sight catches her painfully off-guard; a wall of emotions nearly makes her stumble, memories of Kiada a physical weight on her mind. She can only assume the man knows, told by Wessex or Loren or Deimos, anyone with a relationship deeper than the tolerance they share, and yet...
She doesn't intend to stop but somehow she's standing before him. "Bastien." Her voice is low and hesitant, uncertainty lining her face. "I'm so... I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Not expecting to be interrupted (after all, who would interrupt a mourning man in prayer?), Bastien looked up quickly at the sound of his name, surprised to see Amalia was the one that had uttered it. The two were not enemies, but they were hardly anything at all: he knew she disapproved (hell, the woman oozed disapproval) of his choices, that she was married to Deimos, but had never spent too much time one on one with her.
He found it odd that Amalia had waited until now to give her condolences for Rexanna's death, but he was always ready to talk about his grief for his wife. "Well...it has been almost a season now, so I find the pain easier to forget about, for moments. Of course it does come back, mostly at the nights..but..." Taking a steadying breath so he would not cry in public, he gave Amalia an uneasy smile.
"All I can do is hope for the best for the future. I have Azrael, and I have taken Kiada under my wing...I am excited to see what they both might accomplish." He'd found an oddly parental streak in himself, the last few seasons, and found himself wanting to nurture and guide.
Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space
and look for the stars as the sun goes down each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
Oh, Vi, he doesn't know. The color begins to drain from Amalia's face, leaving her suddenly clammy and pale. Beads of sweat rise on her palms; she reaches for the back of a pew, clenching until her knuckles turn white. The pit in her stomach only deepens at the pride that's clear in his voice when he talks about the Harpy: she wishes she could crawl into that hole and never, ever come out.
She swallows, mouth dry, and closes her eyes. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Opening them up again the Shield turns a gentle, pained smile to Bastien, her brows heavy with the storm of what she needs to say.
Not yet.
"Azrael, that's... your son? How... um... How is he? Can... Do you mind if I sit?"
Amalia seemed to quite suddenly lurch as if ill to grab a pew; Bastien watched her with wide eyes, alarmed, but she seemed to recover. It had been a stressful time recently (when wasn't a stressful time in Caido), so he tried to just put it down to tiredness and ignore it, not knowing her well enough to inquire.
She smiled, though what she said immediately set his teeth on edge. Frowning, he shook his head, trying to keep his voice gentle. "Ah, not quite: Azrael has no need for a gender like us humans do; the Voice made them perfectly themself and nothing else." When Amalia asked if she could sit he nodded and moved over, not one to stop people doing what they wanted. "To answer your question though, they are well. Learning to speak and walk already, and has an aptitude for engineering and making...I actually wanted to ask Deimos if he could make me a toy for them they could take a part, so they may stop dismantling the ones I give them." Laughing the fond laugh of a father, he looked to Amalia to see how she would react: would she smile, as if Azrael were any other child, or would her distaste for their origins show?
Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space
and look for the stars as the sun goes down each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
"Oh. I'm... sorry. I didn't realize." There's heat and embarrassment in her cheeks, as well as a certain degree of uncertainty. Amalia has done her best to avoid thinking about the strange not-child; that they should lack identifiable gender only makes sense, she supposes. They also, she assumes, lack a soul- but now is hardly the time to go into that.
She has enough to unpack as it is.
Despite her trepidation as to the validity of Azrael as an actual living being, the Shield feels herself smile while she listens to Bastien's obvious pride. She might have forgotten her other topics as well if it hadn't been for Deimos' name, slipping out of his mouth like a slap right across her face. "I... oh." She's grateful to be sitting down, trying desperately to rally. "I think he'll like that. To spend time with them. Especially since..."
Her expression breaks then and she looks away, knitting her brows to keep back the tears. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "Bastien... Gods, I'm so sorry. Kia, she... there was an expedition, and lava, and I tried to catch her but---" She cuts off as her voice breaks, the last words hanging unsaid.
Bastien simply nodded graciously at Amalia's apology, appreciating that she was at least willing to accept this about Azrael. If he were in the mood for an argument, he might have given into his curiosity and ask her what she truly thought of his child, as a creation of the Voice, but at the moment he didn't have the emotional strength to hear her no doubt cruel, Safrin-fed answer.
He was happy to hear she felt Deimos might take on his little project idea. "Oh, you think so? I didn't take him for much of a one for children."
Perhaps he would have commented further on that, made a joke or asked if she and Deimos were planning on having children of their own one day...but then Amalia went on to speak further. Immediately Bastien heard the held-back tears in her tone, the way she took a breath; she started with sorry and he turned to face her more, alarm on his face.
"Kiada? She fell...into...lava? Is she hurt?" Obviously she was hurt, but Bastien wanted to believe the best, couldn't allow the possibility of such darkness into his heart just yet. "Where is she?" His own voice had immediately become panicked, his eyes searching Amalia's face for a positive answer desperately.
Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space
and look for the stars as the sun goes down each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
"I... don't know if he is." Did Deimos want children of his own? Amalia realizes she'd never asked, only assumed because she did not that he must feel the same. It is another of the countless mistakes she has made in the course of of their marriage, another oversight she cannot amend. Shaking her head against those doubts, she grasps desperately at straws. "You said the Voice... made them? What... why?"
She wishes she could stay here, in this unexpectedly easier topic, but she's already betrayed herself and broken away. His denial only hurts that much more; Amalia winces at the panic in his voice, hating him for making her say it out loud.
"She's not coming back," the Shield whispers hollowly, not looking up from the back of the pew. "She... her soul is with Mort now. I'm so, so sorry."
That Amalia did not apparently know if her own husband was fond of children or not seemed odd to Bastien, but he did not comment, never having been much of an expert on marriages: he had, fortunately, had a very wonderful one with Rexanna, but knew his experience wasn't necessarily always the case.
"The Voice made Azrael because me and Rexanna went to tell her we desired a child. She took a part of my soul, and a part of Rexannas, and put them both into Azrael. It is really not all that different from any normal birth." He explained patiently, sure that Amalia would see what to him was a beautiful miracle, a chance at life, as some kind of immoral experiment.
Of course, he was far from happily thinking over his child's birth after the news she delivered. Bastien immediately felt a great yawning hole open up in his chest, the same dark chasm that had appeared when Rexanna lay before him, but this one came accompanied with a guilt: that he had never gotten to know her well enough, that he had not protected her as he had wanted to for Rex, that he didn't get to know her enough to justify the grief he felt.
He sat there, silent, staring at Amalia but not really looking at her. Slowly, he closed his eyes, not knowing if he could make it through another loss this soon. Like a leaf falling to the ground he curled up, knees to his chest and head down, trying to shut the rest of the place away: for the first time in his life, Bastien wanted to be anywhere but the spotlight.
Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space
and look for the stars as the sun goes down each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
She ought to do something. To hold him, reassure him, somehow take away his pain, and yet as Bastien crumples next to her Amalia feels tied and unsure, frozen in place by her own troubled relationship with everything that has brought them to this place. Her hand rises up, hovers above his back, and then drops down to her side once more, the motion of comfort rejected. She has no idea what to do.
So she simply sits, staring blankly into the Temple for a time. The wealth of her own pain is immeasurable, and she dares not look upon it too closely lest it swallow her, leave her gasping for air. A minute passes, or is it an hour? and finally Amalia can bear it no longer. She shifts in her seat, glancing one last time down at Bastien and quickly up again. "I'm... I'm sorry," she murmurs helplessly, rising from the pew. "I hope- I'm going to- I'm sorry. You, you know where to find me."
And with that the Shield slips away, clutching her breast and choking back tears.
