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!
Reaching over, Amun patted Melita on the knee. Except he missed and slapped the wooden boards. Frowning, he made a second attempt, and this time would succeed assuming she didn't move out of the way. "Don't worry. I won't. The water will kill me even if the sirens don't." He scowled.
Still folded practically in half, he nodded. Lifting his head, he chuckled. "I'm sleepy but can't sleep. How is that possible?" Lowering his head, he sighed. "Please tell me a story? I like the steamy saucy kinds best. The ones with lots of forbidden romance but that end with a happy ending." Chuckling to himself, he quickly fell silent.
She didn’t flinch as he smacked the boards, and only snorted when he managed to snag her on the second trial. Fangorn hissed, and the girl kept her spine straight, waiting for another blow to come; but naught, and she merely watched as he scowled at the sea.
Then, of course, came the story request – her eyes widening because while the youth had plenty of tales embedded with adventure, quests, and journeys, romance hadn’t been the highlight of them. With none of her own, there wasn’t much to pull from; save for her mother’s experience, and she wasn’t certain how happy, how steamy it was. She turned her head for a moment to grimace, then grit her teeth, jaw clenching as she thought it through. The honeybee could always sugarcoat it a little anyway. “Sure.” An inward snort claimed her for a moment, before she proceeded. “Once there was a woman, warm and kind, compassionate and tender, and very…lonely.” Gods. How else would she describe her mother even giving Gaal the time of day? “She met a…” an asshole “A charming man one evening, and one thing led to another.” Yeesh, this was lame. An unfortunate origin story.
“But it hadn’t been built on anything like love, merely lust.” A moment in time; to fulfill needs and pleasures. Neither she nor Clementine had been wanted. Her eyes fell, and suddenly it didn’t seem happy at all. Maybe she should’ve made something up. “The man left, and the woman soon discovered she was pregnant with twins. When she found him again, after the girls had been born, he said they couldn’t be his.” If she was lucky, perhaps he would’ve already fallen asleep; even if Ascended didn’t require it.
Narrowing his eyes at Melita's snort, Amun shrugged. As she agreed to tell him a story, though, he lifted his head slightly and grinned. Folding over again, he fell silent as her words washed over him. Zhanshi flew over from the beach, settling on the potter's back and wriggling a bit.
The companion's weight caused the Ascended to list to the side slowly. He slid over until he was laying splayed out on the boards. When she reached the part where the man denied the children, Amun growled. "Dick move. Did she beat the shit out of him?" His eyes were closed and he didn't stir from his spot on the pier even when the landshark moved to begin nibbling on the fingers of one hand.
At the very least, though likely with his companion’s “help”, the Ascended had managed to fling himself to the wooden boards, eyes closed while he inquired. He didn’t sound disappointed by the tale, which was a relief, and thankfully pinpointed on the major problem. Her eyes fell again, down to the sea below the dock, where the water surged and rippled, undulations of power and prestige. “No.” Her mother had been too gentle, too kind; any acerbity or acrimony would’ve never been on display in front of her children – though she could recall some semblance of anger, while she stood there, staring at her parents back and forth, as one vehemently denied. She hadn’t understood it in those moments, what it was like to not be wanted, what it was like to be abandoned, but only because their mother had taken them straight into her arms. She’d been loved and cherished, even if her father had been garbage.
Not worth a pebble. A tear. A thought.
Except here she was, suddenly pulling her knees to her chest, Fangorn ambling off to her side. “They never saw him again.” The youth thought she might like to anyway – just for the occasion to punch him in the face. “But the woman raised her two girls with love and affection, as best she could.” Until she was no more – until she sacrificed everything for her children.
Laying on the wooden planks, Amun grumbled. "She shoulda beat him up." However, he fell silent as Melita continued with the story.
When she finished he sighed, the sound somehow carrying all his tension away with it. "S' a good story. But da needs an ass whooping." He chuckled.
"Mom sounds great though. And her kids probably turned out pretty good too." Grinning, though she couldn't see it, he shifted a little. "I liked it. Even if there wasn't enough sex in it." The words were coming out in a quieter and quieter whisper, until he eventually went quiet. Although he didn't sleep, he was dozing. Zhanshi gave his hand one last shake before returning to the beach.
“I agree,” curled on a light smirk. It might’ve been breathtaking to see, to witness Gaal taken down. Based on her uncle’s stories, very few had managed it, along with his scheming and manipulation. She could always wonder what happened to him – maybe he perished amongst and amidst the rest, but that seemed less like her father, who probably found a way to escape, to shirk his way out of danger. Much like she would’ve cherished demolishing Kiada, punching her father in the throat would’ve been a welcome semblance and sensation; wouldn’t have solved a damn thing, but vengeance could’ve salvaged. For her mother. For her sister. For herself.
Her eyes were still on the tide, on the sands in the enigmatic light, a smile just for the void at his comment. “She was lovely.” And then another airy snort at his last comment, laughter unfolding like bells. “I’ll try to have a better one for you next time.”
And then he seemed to grow quiet and still, whatever portions of slumber carrying him along. Though Melita had a mission in her mind, she still took moments of this clarity, of staring at the horizon until it shifted and changed color, until her head was heavy too, grabbing hold of a blanket kept in her bag, and placing it over the Ascended. Perhaps he’d have a few moments of rest, without the delirium, without the sickness taking root. Clarity and peace, repose and shelter, until they found some way to cure the vile sickness.
