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!
Even he needs a break sometimes, and that time has come. He’s banished his projection, left Vai to watch over Remi while he sleeps, and he’s taken himself down to the beach to walk so he can give his head a chance to cool off.
Fat chance, of course, in the LongHeat sun, and so the Star is meandering along the sand under the trees that hug against the far side of the shore. He’s barefoot and shirtless, his shoulders already a little pink from the walk down to the beach.
He knows this stretch so well by now that he barely needs to look where he’s going, caught in his own thoughts and burying his hands in his pockets. He needed to get to grips with this sickness, because it seems to be getting worse rather than better. Every fever breaks eventually. But not this one, it appears.
There are flowers growing in her hair, but she's not sure that they're real. It's hard to pinpoint what is and isn't anymore, what's happened and what hasn't, who she is and who she was and where she's supposed to be. She'd spent time back in the Hollowed Grounds but it had left confused and lost. She'd come back to Torchline looking for her compass, but all she'd found were shadows and the crashing, roaring sea.
There's another shadow coming towards her now, except this shadow is bright. From her position hiding from the sea she watches it, dark eyes unsteady as she tracks its progress, not sure if she should run from it or towards. Slowly it begins to come into focus, legs and arms and a familiar face solidifying into an almost familiar specter on the sand.
"Rooooniiiiin?" Amalia asks, her head tilting down onto her knees, her alto voice full of strangely melodious grave. There's horns curling up out of her sweat-drenched forehead, and it looks like she's been wearing the same dress for days. "I haven't- I was gonna- Are you sick, too?"
It’s the sound of his name that stirs him from his reverie, Ronin glancing up from where he’s been watching a hel loop and soar through the endless blue of the sky. He finds Amalia, sweaty and bedraggled and obviously unwell, kneeling in the sand next to a brightly flowering bush. Concern shoots across the Star’s face, and he picks up his pace until he can drop to a knee in front of her, reaching out to carefully touching his fingers to her warm cheek.
”Hey, Ama. I thought you’d decided to stay in the Grounds when you didn’t come back - I’m sorry. I’ve been...” Distracted, certainly, with all that’s taking place. Swallowing down his guilt, he offers her a small smile. ”I’m not sick, no. How long have you been out here...? What are you doing?”
Cloudy eyes watch as he drops down to the sand, sinking into mired abysses that follow her around. No, though, Amalia frowns, because he can fly. He's brighter than the rest of them. He shouldn't be drowning, too.
She tries to smile for him, dry lips cracking into a bloom of blood as she stretches them out too far. "I think I was there for a little while," Amalia agrees quietly, with the slow unsteadiness of the newly woken trying to recall a dream. "I saw stars and swords and a man with Remi's face. But it was too dark there." Too many memories, too much time.
"I'm glad you're not sick. I think I am. But I'm not sure of very much, right now." Something passes between her hands, idly pushed back and forth: a full canteen of water. Her smile fades, and she turns away, looking back out at the sea. "I was hiding from the ocean," Amalia whispers hoarsely, face pulled into a glaring frown. "It wants to swallow the world."
”That’s alright... I’ll help you figure it out as best I can, okay?” Ronin smiles back, though it’s a smile tinged with sadness. There’s blood in her attempt to be pleased to see him, and he resists the urge to draw her into his arms right away; he knows that these are waters that must be navigated carefully. ”Hiding from the ocean...?” he echoes, frowning at the creeping tide. The full canteen draws his attention next, and he reaches out to cup her hands around it.
”Would you like a drink?” he asks. ”I’ll have one too, so you know it’s not the ocean, okay? After that, I can take you away from here if you like. Back home with me, where you don’t have to hide. Somewhere safe.” Somewhere that most other people are sick as well, but... what can you do?
Amalia has seen very few people who are not sick, in the days since she lost herself, and there's something painfully comforting in his steady, confident presence beside her while the world falls apart. "You're a good friend, Ronin," she murmurs softly, leaning for a moment against his hand before her attention returns to the sea before her, vigilance in her rigid posture. "Nothing has been the way it's supposed to be. The ocean wants to drown us. It's hungry. Can't you feel it?"
She looks away from the ocean when he presses her hands to the canteen, blinking down in some surprise to find it still in place. "Drink...?" she wonders, then shakes her head, swallowing nothing into her parched throat. "It's water from the lava land. I'm afraid to drink it. What if it's full of fire, and I burn up like a torch?" She licks her lips, tasting blood, and raises the canteen. Burning from the inside out sounds like a lovely idea, in truth.
09-08-2020, 06:12 PM (This post was last modified: 09-08-2020, 06:12 PM by Ronin.)
arms give away your need
”Well I certainly try,” he says softly, smiling gently to Amalia and letting his hand drop from her cheek. Her preoccupation with the ocean worries him, but he understands it to some extent; Remi had been the same if not in the opposite direction, drawn to the volcano rather than repelling the water. Glancing back from the bobbing waves, Ronin eyes the canteen in her hands again, surprised to learn about where it’s from.
”The Climb,” he murmurs, watching as she lifts it up. ”I... spoke to Safrin. She said something about this, about the spring water. I think you should take a drink, Amalia.” He’s nodding suddenly, giving her an encouraging smile. ”I won’t let you burn up like a torch. I promise.”
Her face lights up at the mention of Safrin, open adoration tinted by a furrowed brow, the whites of her eyes visible enough to translate into fear. "Safrin said I couldn't help her," Amalia murmurs, remembering something else. Another sickness, another year. "She said I had to kill her if she didn't get better. Do you think she's going to kill me, if I don't get well?" Strangely enough her body relaxes, the fear fading away into weary acceptance, almost peace. She'd rather die at Safrin's hands than anyone else's, she thinks.
Again the water. She doesn't trust it, but she does trust Ronin and his light, his clarity in the storm. Carefully, slowly, Amalia sets about unscrewing the lid, her weak fingers trembling as she uncorks the canteen of sacred spring water. A pause - she sniffs it skeptically, looking to Ronin for reassurance before raising it to her lips.
The first sip feels like ice in her veins, like butter greasing her parched throat, and it's terrible but wonderful at the same time. Another sip, and another, and a third, slow and measured but oh so good. When she moves the canteen from her lips it's far from empty, but her stomach already feels full.
09-08-2020, 06:32 PM (This post was last modified: 09-08-2020, 08:01 PM by Honey.)
reality whispers a different tune underwater
It’s sweet, and clear, once so hot and now blessedly cool from the deep, deep depths of the Climb. Soothing through limbs so tight and tired, clearing the mind, washing away fever and fatigue. Clarity returns, as serene as the wash of water from Frey’s breath.
It will not last forever, this remedy. But it’s a start. It’s a week back, of stolen time.
Amalia has used the following and it has been removed from her inventory - the canteen will also appear empty from now on:
Hot Springs Water | Water from the Frey’s Breath hot spring. It can heal the user with Mastered healing magic. One use only.
Her symptoms of infection will subside for one IC week.
The water tastes sweet, and clear, and most of all- like water. Not fire, not ice, not butter, not any of the other things she's imagined it to be.
Around her the world is settling down. The constant spin she's become accustom to settles into stasis, that itself unsettling, leaving her listing like a sailor back from sea. She can feel the breeze on her skin, and the sun beating down, both hot and cold and blissfully, wonderfully real. The ocean no longer wants to eat her. The colors around her no longer bleed.
"Ronin?" Amalia chokes out hoarsely, looking up with tears in her suddenly clear eyes. "I think... I can think again. I think it worked." Flowers bloom in a crown on her head, elation translated into a bouquet of dahlias that is absolutely real, but the Shield doesn't notice. She's thrown herself forward, felling stronger than she has in days, arms around the Star in a fierce, clinging embrace.
For Ronin it’s a simple relief that Amalia is drinking something, because he’s got the impression that dehydration might be the real killer in an illness like this. He smiles reassuringly to her as she draws deeply from the canteen, reaching out to help steady her. But then suddenly she’s speaking to him - actually speaking - and he blinks at her with wide eyes. ”Ama?” he says softly, tilting his head. ”You think what wor—oof.”
He’s forced to catch her in her embrace, though he’s hugging her tightly in return, just glad to be able to check her over properly. ”What do you mean? Taking a drink cured you?” It was that simple? His stomach flip-flops at the thought of it, and it’s all he can do not to scoop Amalia up into his arms and sprint away across the sand with her.
She clings to him as long as he'll allow it despite her disheveled state and sweat-stained clothes and general rather upsetting level of disarray. They've seen each other in worse states, and for now her relief is far too vast to allow room for anxiety or to be self-conscious. "I think it did. I think I'm better. Oh, Vi, I think I'm okay." Tears streak down her angled cheeks, dampening the Dark Star's shirt. A bubbled laugh rumbles from her stomach, choking into a snotty half-sob.
And then her relief begins to subside, replaced by a sudden, deep conviction. Drawing abruptly back from Ronin, the Shield fixes him with a wild look, dark eyes large and sunken in her pale face. "The others- we can help them. We just need to get more water, and we can give it to all of them, and- and they'll all be okay."
Ronin has no intention of letting go of his friend, clinging to the first shards of sanity he’s found in what feels like a very long time, and he’s smiling brightly to her as he draws back enough to carefully wipe the tears from her cheeks. The Star is glowing brightly, even against the LongHeat sun, and as she gazes up at him with such fiery determination, he can’t help but warm to it. The look is so completely Amalia, it just serves to remind him that she’s really feeling better.
”More water? There’s water everywhere,” he says, fidgeting and getting to his feet, holding out his hands for Ama to help her up. ”There’s probably more in your canteen, even. I can’t believe it’s this simple.” It obviously hasn’t occurred to him yet, that it needs to be a particular kind of water.
Her head's already shaking as she rises to her feet, gripping his hand like a lifeline between her strengthening fingers. "It's not the same," she murmurs fervently, the wheels of her brain still turning slowly as the last of the cobwebs and grime falls away. "I had other water, before, and nothing happened. This is different, somehow."
The canteen has fallen by the wayside in her urgent recovery; now as she stoops to pick it up she can feel her stomach sinking. "I... there isn't," the Shield murmurs, closing her eyes as guilt and anger rises behind them. "More. I think it spilled... Vi, I didn't know." Her voice is tight with pain and despair, grating haggardly against her throat.
Releasing her grip on Ronin's hand, the Shield falls back to her knees, still clutching the empty container through fingers that now tremble anew. "If the water from the Climb... is that why? Is it my fault that Deimos- and Finn. Remi. All of them..."
The epiphanies are not about to slow. Amalia's memories, her sanity, her thoughts, all are playing catch-up for their instability over the past week. Pieces falling slow and steady into place like dominoes, a picture she cannot quite see clearly unclouding in her mind. "The others had some, if they're sick-? Or are they? Is that what was wrong with him? There has to be somewhere, but it was so dry, how could water--?" She continues to talk, as much to herself as to Ronin, murmuring until it's nearly a babble, a stream of consciousness as she overloads.
