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!
Gideon was an intelligent, learned man, but nowadays the majority of his studies, as they were, came from experience and practice; giving his sermons and seeing firsthand the effects of the Gods and the heretics on the world, teaching those that asked for his advice. His use for books and tomes of history had faded over the years. That said, he was still fond of the Collegium, where he had first begun to learn the theory and legend that put him in his current position.
He had come to try and find one specific book for a member of his congregation who had asked a question on Safrin; he was sure he knew the answer, but he had wanted to come and check, refresh his memory. The volume was somewhere on the upper floors, hidden away in a corner of the Religious section; however as he was about to ascend the stairs he caught sight of Finn from across the hall.
Ever since he had been absent from the meeting and Cian's comment regarding that, Gideon had been curious about Finn. Before he'd really thought about it he was striding across the room, his long legs making it a simple task of only a few strides. "Mr. Rosencrantz!" Gideon greeted, not knowing Finn well enough to use his first name (yet presumably, knowing him well enough to come and be nosy about his business). "How are you? How's the hand?"
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Finn usually sequesters himself away in his office to do his research, but at times the Collegium provides a perfect humdrum of background noise that makes for great concentration. That, and sometimes the quiet and the solitude are the Spyglass’s worst enemy. There’s no telling which it is today, but either way the afternoon finds him at a table, his hand moving fluidly across paper to jot down notes from a book.
The sound of his name, however formal, surprises him enough that he leaves a blot of ink on the paper as he flinches and looks up, spotting the Priest of all people. Unable to remember a time when he and the other man have spoken properly, Finn resorts to his usual polite awkwardness, offering a flicker of a smile that can hardly be called that. ”I am doing well, thank you,” he says, lifting his previously broken left hand and flexing it experimentally.
”It’s as good as new. I will make sure I am more careful next time. How are things in your congregation?”
If Gideon noticed Finn's flinch, he didn't mention it. The Priest had always been able to glide through life mostly unbothered by the actions of others around him (until they were disrespecting the Gods, then something not unlike a tirade of rage left his mouth and heart). "You should probably tell your face that." He said teasingly as he went to sit opposite, seeing the not-really-smile that was offered up along with the words.
"How did you actually break it? I don't think I got the story." He wondered if it had anything to do with what Cian had mentioned in the meeting. Whatever Finn had done, Gideon wanted to know.
As for himself, though, he shrugged and gestured vaguely that things were alright. "Business as usual. I may be embarking on a personal mission for Ludo soon, it seems...but for the meantime, services continue and Longheat rituals go on." Gideon paused, eyes flicking up to meet Finns with an easy smirk. "I don't see you at any of them."
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
”What is... wrong with my face?” Finn asks, brow furrowing. Belatedly, he realises it’s a figure of speech, squirming a bit in his chair and putting his quill back in the inkwell. He doesn’t expect the Priest to sit opposite him, the Spyglass mentally strapping himself in for a long ride. And a muscle feathers in his jaw at his next question, Finn staring hard at his research notes. ”It happened when I was sick. I don’t really remember.” Lies do not come easily to him, but preference for the truth does not loosen his lips in this case.
Stormy eyes flicking back up, Finn is acutely aware that he is under a lens of scrutiny and criticism, and he taps a finger absently along the edge of the papers. ”The gods are everywhere,” he murmurs. ”Even in my office in the Collegium. Is... there a problem with that?”
Gideon was about to help the poor guy out, let him know it had been a joke, when he seemed to twig on; with a light laugh that turned into a smirk, he let it drop. Finn was a rather awkward chap. It was probably a good thing, Gideon thought, that his job concerned more squinting at people through glasses and keeping his nose in a book than talking to anyone. Thinking of the glasses.... "Hey, don't you usually wear those specs? Surprised you can read without." He commented idly, wondering if this was another piece of the 'why was Finn in trouble' puzzle.
"Oh yeah, you caught the sickness. I heard something about struggling to keep an appropriate distance from someone infected. Do you know what that could mean?" He was absolutely just shit stirring now, but well, even Priests liked to indulge sometimes.
Still, he knew not to come on too hard. Leaning back, hands up, he shook his head. "No, no. We all worship in our own ways and I'm sure you have your reasons. I just like to know why people don't come, so I can know what I'm doing wrong."
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Finn openly winces as he’s asked about his glasses, shaking his head and passing a hand across his face, offering a somewhat defeated smile to the Priest. ”I can read well enough without them. They were for field research,” he explains as best he knows how. ”I lost them, I think.” Regardless, he both savours their absence and misses them. Without them, he finds, the things he sees dancing in the corners of his vision at times are less easy to dismiss as eye strain.
He nods the affirmative in response to Gideon’s next question, stormy eyes fixed firmly on the papers beneath his fingers now. ”I was sent to the Hollowed Grounds to keep a tab on Vi’s demigod,” he explains. ”She was sick as well at the time. We quite literally walked into one another as I was heading into the inn. An accident that led to an infection.” And that, he suggests, is all he’ll be saying about it.
Religious questions are somehow easier to answer, and Finn relaxes a bit in his chair. ”I imagine you are doing everything perfectly right,” he says. ”I am not one for crowds, however. If there are times when the temple is less busy, I may drop by.”
"Oh, for research? For the distance, then?" Gideon assumed, supposing it would be hard to do the necessary tasks for the Order if the horizon was blurry. Of course, it didn't entirely slip his mind that there was a chance Finn's glasses were magical, but he'd let Finn himself tell him if that were the case: they all had their secrets, and while Gideon had no problems with prodding for them, he wasn't so gaudy as to outright ask.
He noticed that Finn was no longer meeting his eyes, but it seemed he was going to get some kind of answer anyway. The words seemed to be dancing around something (especially as Gideon knew that Amalia was an attractive young woman) but he only smirked, sat back and nodded. "I see. What do you make of her, anyway? I met her in the Citadel, but she seemed almost shy to be a DemiGod. Embarrassed. As if it were shameful."
The temple was indeed crowded on most days, at least for the morning sermons. "In the evenings we have a time for quiet contemplation and prayer - it's usually not too busy. You'd be welcome then."
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
”Mm, something like that,” Finn confirms. For distance, for tracking, for tracking auras... it all fits into itself if you try hard enough, he assumes, and he lets that thread of conversation go. He’d like to leave Amalia in his memories too, but Gideon is not ready to do that yet, it seems, and the Spyglass flicks his stormy gaze up to meet the Priest’s eyes as he speaks of her. ”No,” he says softly, with a surprising amount of confidence, as if what he says is an intimate truth. And it is, in some ways, given what he’s seen of the Shield’s character through his glasses.
”It isn’t shameful to her. She’s merely humbled by the opportunity. She is a very strong woman, and a very pious one too. But self doubt makes it difficult to accept that Vi may have chosen her to step under his wing.” Finn smiles only with his eyes. ”I imagine she will be formidable, once she has gained confidence.”
Absently curling up one edge of his page of notes with his thumb, Finn lets his gaze drop again. ”That sounds quite pleasant,” he says, and he means it. ”Perhaps I will come by one evening. Thank you.”
He was surprised to find he'd apparently hit a topic that Finn was passionate about, or at least had a strong opinion on. Gideon listened to his impressions of Amalia with great interest, always wanting to know more about the Demi-Gods, those who the Gods deemed worthy of the highest form of life. "I see. I suppose it would be hard to believe that you'd been chosen by Vi..she must have earned it, though." It was endlessly fascinating to wonder what Amalia must have done, her timid frame not lending itself to many fantasies of Godly war.
"You're welcome. I always welcome people into the Temple. Especially the Order; I think it helps us remember what we're working for." Not that Gideon ever forgot, but perhaps he did occasionally wonder if his co-workers did. "Tell me, Finn...you're much closer to Cian than I ever have been. What do you think his motivations are?"
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
”Mm,” Finn agrees, though whether his thoughts are on how Amalia came into her demigod-hood or whethe he’s merely thinking of the woman behind the title of Shield is woolly at best. ”This is the first chosen by Vi in a long time, according to the research I have done. Though I imagine you would likely have a more accurate view on things, no?” The topic has clearly softened to one that the Spyglass finds less intrusive or awkward, and he even offers Gideon a small smile for his welcome to the Temple. ”Perhaps we will talk more there soon, then.”
Ah, but then Cian comes up, and everything about Finn seems to stiffen and sharpen, as if the Eye might be watching even now. (And really, he might be - he has no idea what the man knows and how far his reach extends.) ”I am not close to Cian,” he tells him frankly. ”His motivations are the same as every Eye who has come before him. To see the Order succeed in its goal.”
"I can tell you it's definitely not something commonly given out." Gideon said with a laugh, knowing that to be a tremendous understatement. He'd doubted he'd ever see Vi choose another in his lifetime, or that he'd get to meet them. That Amalia had been so hesitant about her title was the strangest thing of all, but he supposed that a humble and unassuming spirit might be a good thing to possess. Less heroics and vanity to worry about.
He saw Finn stiffen at the mention of Cian and purposefully relaxed his own posture further. Gideon was not scared of the man, never had been; he remembered him as a teenager, after all. "You're not? I thought you'd spoken to him more than any of the rest of us." He said easily, raising a brow. "Do you think we will succeed, under his leadership?"
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
"That doesn't come as much of a surprise. Would you..." Finn pauses suddenly, before clearing his throat and choosing how to proceed. "Rather... I have found a trend, in my research. There appear to be more demigods clustered in one area now than ever before." He has to stop himself from tapping his fingers against his research further. "I can imagine that it has everything to do with the barrier going down. But has there ever been another time like this? When the Voice and the Old Gods were actively at war?"
It's a subject he finds quite fascinating, in truth, especially given that it forms the basis of a lot of his research and hypotheses, and the return to speaking about Cian is not a welcome one. Finns smile is almost painful, and he lowers his eyes. "I speak with him a lot because it's part of my role as Spyglass," he explains. "Our conversations rarely stray beyond work, however."
Gideon looked up at the beginning of a question, though Finn seemed to think better of it and change his wording; deciding to be kind, Gideon didn't inquire, just listened to what he said instead. "Yes. Three hundred years ago, a little over...'The Voice' appeared for the first time, out of the ranks of the Acquired." He sighed, frowned a little past Finn as he thought back to that time, which he had of course never seen, but he could imagine it. Perhaps they had been excited, when their powers had bloomed, but had anyone stopped to think of the consequences?
"A lot of the details are lost. But there was a war stretching on for years before the bubble was made. Now that's destroyed...frankly, I'm surprised we're not deep in another war right now." He shrugged. "Maybe the world's just biding it's time." He certainly felt that something might be coming, that the Order would soon find that it's mission was very relevant indeed.
GIDEON
And lord, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Finn listens intently to all Gideon has to say; an inquisitive soul by nature, it's probably a little bit of a surprise that he doesn't know the history of Caido as well as he ought to. But life is not so kind, sometimes, to allow him access to the education he might have otherwise obtained. Still, soaking up the story that the Priest has to give him, he nibbles at his lower lip and gazes back down at his research, eyes narrowing as if he's trying to put some pieces together in his mind.
"I think you may be right," he says slowly. "From my research on the demigods, this is an almost unprecedented surge in their appearance. I wonder if something similar happened all those centuries ago. When the Voice first appeared, perhaps more demigods did, as well. Almost as if the Old Gods were expecting what was going to inevitably happen..." It's a worrying prospect, if so. Finn has believed for a long time that war is not inevitable. Does this prove him wrong?
