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!
When Amalia was a little girl who asked about her father, her mother never said a word to alleviate her curiosity, satisfy her ache. Rishima held her secrets jealously, guarded like their heart. There was a distance that the black eyed girl could never cross, no matter how much she tried.
So Amalia had turned to the closest family she had, the one who never lied: her grandmother. She'd curled up in the woman's arms one night, out below the stars. She'd asked the question that devoured her, hopeful that the answer would fill the missing place she felt within her heart.
Instead her grandmother had simply smiled, stroking the girl's hair. "Your father is the same as everyone else's, beti," she'd murmured in a rich, deep voice, full of the conviction that comes with faith and age. "He who gave the gift of life. The father of all that lives, from woman to creature to plant. Vi, whose strength is greater than any mortal, whose wisdom is wider than any field. Whose love reaches us even here, inside the barrier. He is always with you, Lia, so long as you have faith."
It is this memory that fills her mind as she kneels before the shrine. A familiar stance, in a familiar place, yet everything is changed. In the time since he made her anew she has failed and fought, been lost and found. She has discovered in her weakest moments that she still has strength, that there is a fire in her breast that will never be extinguished.
A fire that burns for him.
Her hair is braided and flush with flowers, marigolds and edelweiss blooming like the sun. She wears her shield on her back, with Nova in her hand. Head bowed, kneeling, Amalia places the tip of the sword upon the summer earth, her eyes falling closed as her heart fills with faith, warmth and resolution as bright as the crimson hilt of her blade.
"Father, I have walked the line, and though I have stumbled I still stand tall. I am ready to serve in your name and your image. Please guide me on my quest."
The sweet grasses of the field seem renewed in his presence, healed from drought and blooming with daisies which sway and dance in the breeze. He sits, perched impossibly on the very edges of the shrine walls, legs crossed, feet bare, his eyes on the sky rather than the Shield nearby.
”I told you to protect them. I never implied that you could save them.” His smile is like stormclouds over a sunless sea, enigmatic and quiet, and Vi breathes deeply. That small movement alone will renew Amalia, and he watches her with eyes both warm and cold at the same time.
”Your life will be filled with times like these. It is what you have chosen. Do not let them splinter you so easily.” A pause - he looks her up and down. ”You are well, for now.”
She inhales deeply when he appears, breath catching in her chest as wonder floods her senses, heightening each one and filling her with him. She'd meant to keep her eyes downcast, to maintain her position of subservience, yet he draws her to him like a magnet and she finds her chin lifting up, face like a flower hunting for the sun.
Warmth overcomes her, a soothing, healing breath that chases away the doubts and anguish, the pain and exhaustion of a week spent ill. Instead of quailing at his gentle critique she feels the words down the length of her spine, tingling and strengthening, adding iron to bone. Still she says nothing, not until he comments on her health. "For now?" Amalia repeats, the slightest furrow marring her brow.
Adjusting her hold on the sword's hilt, the Shield lets her legs fold beneath her, the blade now on her lap. "The illness... we think it came from the Climb. From freeing Tanau." Her dark eyes seek his, hunting for confirmation in the enigmatic storm of the god's face. "But there are others who are sick. Most of them didn't go to the Climb. So Ronin and I are hoping... we're going to try to get enough water for everyone who's ill."
Humbly she drops her head, biting on her lip. "I was hoping... you might advise me on this course. And on... on what it is you would have me do for you, now that I am yours. About the world, and the Voice, and the Order. I... I am growing stronger day by day, Father, but I know I have much further to go."
”For now,” Vi repeats. ”You have little less than a week before your symptoms return - that water is a balm, but it is not a permanent fix.” The rumble of his voice consumes all else, and eyes as deep and as dark as the soil beneath their feet see straight through her. Straight through everything, threading together the expected and the otherwise until they are left with the presence.
”The illness did originate from the Climb. Safrin said as much to her star,” he murmurs. ”It is not something I foresaw...” Holding a hand up to still further inevitable questions, Vi sighs out a breath that has blossoms and the scent of honey drifting on the wind. ”There is much that you are not ready to hear, and that I am not ready to impart upon you. Go to the Climb, Amalia Chandrakant. Look for the water, and look further still. There might be something more there to aid you.”
As for what she might do? Vi smiles again. ”You will become sick again within days. I would have nothing of you for now. But once this has been overcome, you can expect me to call upon you again.”
Cold fear fills her, settles into her bones. Little under a week and then she will be condemned anew, flushed with fever and lost again to the prison of her mind. The thought freezes her in place, kills the questions that might have risen to her lips. She can feel herself falling back into the darkness, the powerlessness that waits with arms open.
It's his voice that keeps Amalia steady, rooted in this world. She focuses in upon it, on the eyes that look at and through her, on the sweet earthiness of his breath. Purpose. She clings to purpose, to the guidance he provides. A nod, a quiet, solemn acceptance. Find the water. Become well.
She's useless to him, as she was.
"I will go," she murmurs quietly, inhaling deeply the scent of flowers. "And find answers. And make myself well for you."
She readies herself to be dismissed, but one more issue nags her. A small question, a minor change, but one that has to mean something. "Before I go... there's one change I don't understand yet." Flushing slightly, Amalia turns, bringing the shield off her back. The open-backed shirt reveals the mark she's discovered, shimmering colors that dance and ripple between her scapulae. "I came out of my fever with it... I don't know what it means."
He nods, already preparing to depart - the God of Life is tolerant of the Shield in her current state only because she has appeared to him without a fever - but the question from his chosen one has him pausing, on his toes on the wall of the shrine. ”Oh, that?” Vi doesn’t touch her, not with the unknown pressing in on all sides, but he does reach out and flick his wrist. As if on demand, great pale wings spread from Amalia’s shoulders, reminiscent of a shift that she has long given up.
”Changes will come upon you, Amalia Chandrakant. Do not be alarmed by them, but rather embrace them with all the faith and trust you can muster. You are destined for great things, but whilst time moves quickly on us, this is not something to be rushed.” At least not until Vi says so. And currently? He does not say so.
She cranes her neck to look back at him, but suddenly her vision is obscured.
By wings.
Her wings.
"Oh," Amalia breathes softly, her black eyes trailing over the lengths of the massive, beautiful appendages. "I dreamed about these-" Or had she seen them already, manifested when everything bled together in the flushed, febrile world? Regardless, the development is rather amazing, just as every change has been. She pushes out with her will and is shocked to see the limbs move responsively, her familiarity with wings from the owl shift making it easy to coax them now.
Turning around to face her Father, the Shield practically beams with pleasure, delight brightening her onyx eyes. "I will always trust in you," she promises fervently, adoringly, her vision blurred by tears. "Thank you, Father, for guiding me. I will go to the Climb and do what I can to understand this illness. And I will keep doing the work of life, as best I can. Until it is time for you to call me again."
09-12-2020, 10:01 PM (This post was last modified: 09-12-2020, 10:01 PM by Vi.)
Vi steps down from the shrine wall, and the whole cosmos seems to breathe with his presence. Fireflies cascade up from the grasses at his feet, dazzling and streaming around the pale wings that adorn his chosen. He is, of course, like stone - unmoved but not unfeeling, and he watches her delight with as close to pride as the mercurial god can get. ”Until then,” he tells her with a grave nod. ”Keep your wits about you for as long as you can. There is much to do.”
More than even she can be aware of, at this moment in time. Machinations are at work, involving so many complex threads that it would not do involve her at present. ”Go - the Climb awaits.” The next swathe of fireflies takes Vi along with it, the god scattering to the skies, leaving Amalia in silence and in peace.
