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!
Somehow, he made it home, though the details of the trip were last on Sam the second he reached the ladder. Without sound it was hard to register what was happening around him as real, even more than it already had been with the delirium in his head. For a while he sat on the top of the ladder, holding his head and trying to calm himself down, to be reasonable: he had to actually be able to hear, right? He was just psyching himself out, surely.
But no matter how many times Sam forcefully opened his eyes and said I will hear....now!, nothing seemed to happen. After several attempts the panic really began to set back in and he rocked back and forth, able to feel but not hear the vibration and creak of the floorboards beneath him.
Unawares of how loud it was he began to cry and yell in frustration, panic and rage: why could he never catch a break?! Standing unsteadily he walked to his unfinished bedroom and fell onto the end of the bed, his hands pressed to his face as he sobbed and hoped if he waited long enough, it might all just end.
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
He’d gotten done with work early on, trudged back to the space Sam had offered him to live in. And he’s brought a few more trinkets from home, something more… Homey to make the room feel more his own. And it’s in there that he lounges, door a fraction of an inch ajar, drowning out every sound outside with the way he seems to be working on a project of a new kind of net with different knots and different shaped holes. Whether it was used for fishing or something else was another story.
He’s engrossed enough into his work that he doesn’t notice Sam’s arrival until the crying starts to grow louder. “Sam?!” He doesn’t get a response, and he carefully untangles himself from the project he’s working on. And by the time he’s managed it, he’s opening the door and can see across the hall that Sam’s now on his bed. Brows furrowing, he calls out to Sam again, getting nothing once more, and so he moves toward him.
A hand outstretched on Sam’s shoulder, he tries to turn the Ascended to face him. “Hey..?” He wants to ask what happened, but he waits just to see if his words register.
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
Sam wasn't aware of Milo's presence as he entered the shop or came up into the attic. He was hardly noticing much that happened around him at the moment, didn't really want to either, wanted to believe that if he ignored the world, it might ignore him for a while. Eyes squeezed tight shut as he laid and cried, he didn't hear anything that might indicate Milo's approach towards him.
It wasn't until there was a sudden touch on his shoulder that Sam was aware of anything at all. The unexpected contact made him flinch back and yelled, wide eyed staring until he realised who it was and calmed down, shaking his head.
"Milo -- I... I'm sorry, I.." His voice's volume shifted oddly, Sam not sure how loud he was speaking and suddenly unsure of how to speak in the normal way. "I drank the water. The water? And now I can't hear a thing. I think it made me deaf. I wish it had just killed me--!" Beginning to cry again, he put his hands over his eyes.
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
His hand touches Sam’s shoulder, turning the Ascended slightly — at least, attempting to. His hand releases immediately when Sam flinches, when he yells, and Milo’s brows furrow with far more concern than before. He doesn’t know what happened, what was happening, or how he could help. But as soon as Sam realizes it’s him, the volume shifts, an apology is given And Milo isn’t sure what for exactly.
It has to be scary, right? So he hears the words, moving away from the bed to grab a notebook and a pencil from his room, returning so he might write down his thoughts on it so Sam would be able to hear. “The water didn’t work, but maybe something else will?” He scratches out in quite a chicken scratch handwriting, before he realizes Sam’s still buried away. “I can help.”
He sets it on the edge of the bed, moving to try and pull Sam’s hands away from his eyes, to throw an arm around the sick Ascended and nudge the pad with the other one — gentle, encouraging, as helpful as he can be.
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
At first Milo got up and left and for an awful second, Sam thought he had somehow finally committed the sin great enough to begin losing his new friends. That he'd found the inevitable beginning of the end, the point where he'd messed it up. He closed his eyes, about to bask in the horror of it all when he felt the air of Milo moving back into the room.
Oh. Maybe his illness was making him predisposed to more paranoid fantasies than usual, because it seemed Milo was actually helping him. He leaned into the comfort offered immediately, previous fears forgotten in an instant, the virus in his head forcing him now more than ever to live in the moment and only the moment.
Noticing the pad he reached to pick it up, read what it said. For a moment he tried to reach for the pencil to reply, then realised he could still speak. Looking up to Milo, he sighed and still keeping a hold on him, spoke softly: "I....um, I...I bit Remi. I didn't mean to -- well, I did, but I didn't want to, I guess. Ronin is very mad. I don't...I don't know what to do."
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
He imagines it’s probably a bad look – but he hopes the fact he returns soothes the worries that Sam experiences. And when he returns with the pad, Sam fitting easily into the arm offered, his attention focuses entirely on the pad as Sam reads it – thankful that his handwriting is far more legible than some of the other kids from the docks he knows.
He meets Sam’s gaze when the words fall from his lips, forgetting that Sam can’t talk. “The Gov’n’r?” He asks, a crooked smile crossing his face before it falters and he remembers, reaching for the pad and pencil. “The governor?” He pauses to wait for Sam’s yes or no before he continues. “All you can do is apologize. You’re sick, it wasn’t entirely your fault.” He hands the pad back to Sam, glancing to the other redhead with a raise of his brow and a classic boyish smile.
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
Sam blinked at Milo as he spoke, squinted to try and piece together the words, not wanting to be too much of a bother; thankfully, Milo seemed to remember the situation shortly after and write down his question, to which Sam nodded. "Yes. Remi, the governor. I...I knew him before he was governor. We used to be..." He cycled through several potential words in his mind before settling on: "...close."
He had to laugh, just a quiet sound under the still-falling tears, at the idea that he could just apologise and make it all okay. "You didn't see how mad Ronin was..." Sam shook his head, wishing he could forget the look in the Dark Star's eyes, just how fierce it had been. "He will kill me, if I see them again. I'm sure of that. I...I know he will, probably." Paranoia began to creep in as Sam was talking, slowly at first then more readily, his tone audibly upset.
"I shouldn't be here. I'm putting you in danger, oh--" Starting to try and wriggle out from under Milo's arm and out of the bed, Sam was suddenly determined he had to leave.
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
His question is met with a rather surprising answer, head tilting to the side as he considers what he knows of the governor – which isn’t a lot – paired with the man beside him. But he only nods, offering what little bit of help he can. He watches the tears, refrains from reaching up to brush them away, letting Sam finish speaking before he does anything.
If Ronin was mad, so what. But when Sam starts to talk about killing, his brows furrow together and he stares long and hard at the pad, even more so when Sam starts to try and wiggle out from under his arm – to which Milo’s arm tightens and he tries to keep Sam exactly where he was. He shifts the pad, grabs the pencil, and scribbles something down quickly and tries to make the Ascended see it.
‘I’ll be fine.’ He begins, pacing a few inches below it to continue. ‘Isn’t the Arbiter supposed to prevent that sort of thing, though?’ A few seconds later, he focuses again when a thought hits him. ‘I can talk to them if you want me to.’
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
Milo's resistance, though not too forceful, was enough to make Sam pause in his determined escape. In his sickness he was weak anyway, but more so than that he was eager to have someone else in control, someone to tell him where to go and what to do: if Milo could do that, find a way to calm his nerves and make him feel he would be alright, he would stay. With a soft, defeated breath, he laid back down, staring at the pad.
"The...arbiter? You mean Sunjata? I can't trust him. He's kissing monsters." With a nod, Sam's words had total conviction; whatever this meant, he believed it. "...I don't...know if you should talk to them. I don't know..I...I always seem to mess things up, so maybe, but...I don't want you to do more for me, Milo. It's already becoming too much." Endless favours from friends he couldn't return, all with the potential to turn to the kind of resentment Remi had eventually held for him.
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
Luckily for Milo, Sam sits back down – remaining within Milo’s grasp just enough to read the pad. And the words that leave the Ascended, with such conviction, surprise Milo in a way that all he can really do is laugh, grabbing the pencil and shifting the pad a bit to write down something quick in response. “Gross.” What kind of monsters was the Arbiter with? And better yet, why.
As for the next question though, he listens to Sam’s fears, of messing things up, of doing too much. All the redhead can do is shrug his shoulders, give Sam a little squeeze, and grab the pad again to write down once more. “I don’t mind. I’m more neutral than you think.” He flashes Sam a winning smile with that, one that crinkles his eyes as he focuses on Sam. “And you’re sick, Sam. It’s okay. Really. I don’t have anything else to do.” Aside from the Hanged Man and the Halenani, which… Given everything was a one stop track to the reason he came home drunk quite a lot.
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
It was reaffirming to see Milo not reject his words, to accept that Sunjata was, indeed, making out with monsters; Sam nodded in agreement. "I don't think he sees it. Or maybe he does...he's a little weird, sometimes." That was true of a lot of Outlanders, though, and even ill he found that he didn't want to think too badly of the Arbiter: Nate had tricked him, he was sure.
He leaned into the squeeze, finding Milo's presence reassuring; very rarely did he find someone patient and willing to help in this way. "...Thank you. I um. I will pay you back...um..." Sam pushed a hand up into his hair, dipping his head down into his palm as a fresh wave of brain fog and nausea overcame him. "...Do you...think...I mean...You're very close, and I can smell your blood...I'm so thirsty, maybe you should...go back to your room."
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
Milo thinks a moment on whether or not he’s met the Arbiter, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, he focuses on that being his initial thought of the man, aside from the things Zeph had told him, and finds a clear bout of amusement coming from it. So all he does is nod, a soft smile playing on his face, giving Sam’s shoulder a squeeze.
The mention of running back to his room though has his head tilting, reaching for the pad so he might write on it. “You’re not gonna run off and hide if I do, are you?” He asks, sliding the paper back toward Sam, pulling his arm reluctantly away from the Ascended and sitting forward on the bed while he contemplates it.
Would he have to board Sam up in here? It would it be better to sate the urge and hope that fixes it?
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
Milo's written question made Sam pause, the way he pulled away making him actually realise he was asking for his only current comfort to be gone; instinctively he moved up by Milo again, his body knowing he needed somebody nearby more than his mind did. "..Maybe...I keep thinking different thoughts and they don't last very long; sometimes they make me want to leave." He'd always been someone with a volatile brain and poor impulse control, but with sickness tearing down his last boundaries and controls, it was almost impossible for Sam to consistently be reasonable.
The scent of Milo's blood still beckoned though, and he couldn't do to Milo what he had to Remi: he didn't want to be that, a bloodthirsty monster lunging at the necks of those more fortunate. "You should go though. I don't want to hurt you. Maybe just...check on me." Closing his eyes he forced himself to lean away from Milo, shuffle back up to the end of the bed, drawing up his knees and putting his forehead down on them.
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me but there's gold in the dirt
The problem with this idea is what if Sam leaves while Milo is sleeping, when he’s less than aware of what’s going on? He considers the implications briefly, considers Sam as he sits next to him and says that he’s going back and forth on so many ideas at once it’s hard to say if he would remain. But then the mapmaker is shifting away from him, curling up on himself and something about the gesture breaks Milo’s heart.
So he grabs the pad again and writes down on it before he goes. “Alright. I’ll leave you a friend to keep you company for a little bit, though.” He slides the pad over, moving to stand toward the door, and he thinks about what he might be able to create that would help comfort Sam. He settles on a housecat, one that’s big and fluffy, a long haired tabby of sorts, that he commands to curl up against Sam on the bed.
Milo, meanwhile, decides he might bring his project to the outside of the door to block the pathway down, and if he falls asleep while he’s working his nets at least he’ll have given it a shot in trying to prevent Sam from running off.
i never took the time to see but i knew of its worth
