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!
Some things never changed. In this world or his last, the Sun rose and fell, the Moon forever chasing it in a game of cat and mouse. Before Anden found himself in Caido he longed for the Sun to rise so he could explore further into the Evergreen Forest, now the Sun burned his soul, and body.
Maybe it was depression. Anden raised a glass of ale to his lips. Maybe it was depression that brought him to VladVloed's nightly. Or maybe it reminded him of home. It wasn't long ago that he would be on the other side of things, helping pour drinks for the adventurers, or throwing chunks of wood into the fire to keep everyone warm. The Hollowed Grounds felt like a prison. Part of the deal to stay with Oliver at the manor, was that Anden wouldn't leave the Hollowed Grounds for until he was 'ready'. Whatever that meant.
He never expected the Hollowed Grounds to be so... broken. Perhaps it was a city once, but to Anden everywhere he looked he only saw loss. Even the residents seemed broken. A sickness had plagued the region, or so he heard. Oliver tried to explain that usually the Grounds weren't so empty, Anden wasn't so sure he believed him.
He looked down at the glass in his hand with a sigh. Even ale couldn't break the feeling of nothingness that he felt. Oliver hadn't lied about that part, or not needing to eat or drink. He was an Ascended now, and this was his curse. To wander the streets at night - aimlessly. It was that or spend more time with Oliver in the manor, but he tried too hard to make Anden feel at home, to make it all feel normal.
Nothing about Caido was normal to him. Eloise Marie not being by his side was wrong. Feeling trapped wasn't right. Anden stretched back in the seat at the bar. Everything about living in Caido was a curse.
With his illness recently cured and thus his life returned to normal (or at least as normal as it could be, without Rexanna), Bastien had been in a good mood. He had been cleaning the Sanctuary, creating new art, speaking to plenty of people, thinking of new projects...it had been half a year since his wife had died, and while the pain of that would cling to him forever, he felt he was beginning to break into the beginnings of the future.
Azrael was growing older every day, much more so than other children, and he had recently begun to leave them at home for a short amount of time, an hour or so; he had begun to care for his own siblings when he was only 8 or so. As long as they didn't waste the paint or open the door to strangers, he thought it would be good to give the some independance.
So, he was out by himself for an hour and in a good mood. The perfect place to go was a bar, even if the alcohol would do nothing for him; the atmosphere was enough. Carrying a sketchbook under his arm he headed to the Vlamvloed, reflecting on his way in on how the first place he had come when arriving in Caido had been a bar, though not this one. All worlds had their watering holes, he supposed.
When looking where to sit, his eyes fell on a man sat by himself, looking quite dejected. Immediately Bastien was drawn to him and whatever his story would be, and in his ever-lasting confidence, was sure he could cheer him up. Sidling up and taking the seat next to him, Bastien ordered himself a glass of wine (he could barely taste it, but it was more about the aesthetics of the thing) then put his sketchbook out on the table. "Hello there! I was wondering if I could keep you company and perhaps sketch you? With such a handsome face it would be a shame not to keep a record."
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
10-31-2020, 07:09 PM (This post was last modified: 10-31-2020, 07:09 PM by Anden.)
ANDEN
CHASING THE SUN
Emptiness. That's how Anden felt. A growing emptiness. His heart might be nothing more than a souvenir at this point, but he felt it ache. Not knowing the fate of Eloise Marie would gnaw at him. Another empty glass. Another empty day.
Then he wasn't alone. Anden had never met the man who pulled up a seat beside him. Wine, the drink of an educated man, Anden thought. He had seen many travelers in his time, and few ever ordered wine. Eloise used to joke that it was a freeing drink. Whoever he was he seemed open. Cheerful even. Anden struggled to see why people could be so optimistic when they lived in a town that appeared on the brink of crumbling upon itself.
A sketch? Anden stared at the man for a moment, taking in everything. He seemed normal enough. Though for Caido, he wasn't sure how much weight that carried. Anden's eyes wandered to the sketchbook. Maybe at some point he had seen his sister, but Anden couldn't come out-right and ask. That wouldn't go over well, he thought.
"I'd like that." Anden offered a smile of his own - a rare sight since he arrived. "But only if I can see your other sketches when you're finished." It was a fair trade Anden thought. There was nothing sketchy about wanting to admire the mans past work, but for Anden it was a chance to find some peace of mind.
Anden took another drink. "How does this work? Do I need to pose for you, or?" Anden had never really met an artist before. They were usually hidden away in the kingdom living a lavish life. Very rarely would they venture out to the outskirts of the kingdom, let alone pay any attention to Anden - they were far more interested in Eloise. "My name's Anden." He offered.
There was a moment of hesitation from Anden and Bastien wondered for a moment if he was about to be told to leave (in which case he would abscond to some darker corner of the bar and draw the man from afar just out of artistic spite); however, after the consideration Anden agreed, the condition he laid out more than reasonable. "Oh, gladly! I would never turn down a chance to show my art to a new set of eyes."
He had already begun to put pencil to paper when he was asked how he wanted Anden; Bastien shook his head and held up a hand. "Do nothing other than act how you would have anyway. Relaxed, normal. I want you, not some pose you feel is appropriate for the piece." Drawing a circle and then adding in a line for the jaw, beginning to add in the rough shape of the neck and where the hairline sat, Bastien glanced up: "What I could see, as I approached, is that you do seem quite miserable. Tell me what is on your mind?"
That would be more informative to the sketch than any posed reference.
His hands busy, Bastien did not reach for his usual handshake, but he smiled wide. "Bastien De Rosieres."
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
VlamVloed's wasn't too busy, but not entirely dead either. The sounds of boots against the floor, goblets against the wood tables, their senseless chatter; it all seemed to fade, Anden's ears concentrated on the gentle etching of the pencil on the paper.
Relaxed. Normal. Anden chuckled. Two words he wasn't sure he that he would ever use to describe himself with again. What was normal about feeding off of others, or not having a beating heart. What was normal about living a life cursed to hide from the Sun? Anden propped his elbow on the table, testing his face against his hand, to relax.
Anden blinked in shock from Bastien's forwardness. He was used to people tip-toeing around his feelings. Not Bastien though. He dived head-first, into the abyss that was Anden's broken heart. He stared at the artist, albeit skeptical why he seemed so interested.
"I'm cursed." Anden sighed. Deep down he knew that wasn't entirely true. He knew that what he was, wasn't meant to be a curse; but to Anden it was. Anden moved his hand over where his heart was. He stared into the distance with empty eyes, half-hoping he could feel it beat, but knowing that would never happen.
Anden was cursed. His life was stolen from him and he was given this one. Whatever this life was. It wasn't his. "I can't not expected to be miserable when I'm living in the shadows of my own life." Anden wished for nothing more, than to be out with Eloise Marie doing noting of importance. In place of that he sat in the tavern drinking ale knowing full well it won't help him forget.
"Cursed?" Bastien immediately echoed back, trying to sound distraught for Anden but clearly rather thrilled by the prospect. Curses could hold such drama, spoke to a failed prayer at a shrine or some slight against the Gods; he wondered what Anden could have done to deserve such a thing, his natural desire for gossip driving his curiosity. Behind his preliminary sketch of Anden, Bastien added in several dark pencil lines hatching downwards, wanting the drawing to reflect the man's sombre tale.
His stare and the dramatic follow up of declaring he was living in the shadows of his own life only added to the mans mysterious air, Bastien trying to capture exactly the kind of lost look in his eyes. "What is the nature of this curse? You know, I was once cursed by a God here, but I rescued myself from that fate. Perhaps I can help." While his curse (and solution) had been rather unorthodox, Bastien thought he might know enough of the world to be able to help regardless.
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
In what way was Anden not cursed? He let out a soft chuckle, it was an honest question, but to Anden it felt silly to ask. Anden rubbed his back, feeling the spikes that lay dormant there. He took a closer look at his hands, half-expecting to see them oozing the sticky substance that made holding things difficult. "She made me a thing of the dead." Anden answered. "The Voice, then as if to see HA! She did this to me." Anden removed his top, and turned slightly to show his back to Bastien. "It was my first time meeting her too." He sighed.
Anden wasn't keen on showing off everything that the Voice had given him when she congratulated him on making it this far. If Bastien even had the slightest idea on how to fix it, he knew this would be an exception. "What about you? How were you cursed - and how did you fix it?" Anden asked, his eyes lighting up if only for a moment. He looked back down at the sketch that was coming together of himself.
If Eloise Marie was out there, he couldn't look like this when he found her. She would flee in terror.
When the true nature of Anden's 'curse' was revealed Bastien could not help but laugh, suddenly realising that this man had to be very new to the world. "Forgive me, my new friend, but you have mistaken what is most definitely a blessing for something evil." Opening his mouth, Bastien pointed to his fangs, which he was sure Anden would know he possessed as well. "I openly and willingly went to the Voice, a while ago now, to become this way. It is a wonderful thing. You have recently arrived, yes? You are quite lucky."
And thankfully, the story of his curse fit right in. "Well...when I first arrived here, I was taken by the Goddess Safrin. She is beautiful, cloaked in the night sky and fierce enough to make anyone awed. I ah..." Rubbing the back of his neck, Bastien showed a rare bit of embarrassment, laughing awkwardly. "..Made a church in her name, though truthfully it was more of an excuse to have orgies and drink wine."
He had things he liked to do, so sue him. Or curse him, as the case had been.
"Anyway, things grew complicated and she cursed me to be an old man for a time. Not just an old man - ugly, ill. I did not care for it, so I took myself elsewhere, to a new Goddess. The Voice." Tilting his head to the other side now, Bastien showed Anden the golden moon on his neck, a mechanical mark of the Voice forever in his skin. "She has never betrayed me like that, and gave me the gift of my child. ..And my wife, for a time."
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
Who laughs at a cursed man? That would be like laughing at a man without arms, or a man without legs. It wasn't right. Then to call what Anden could only describe as a curse, something entirely different - a blessing.
Bigger Asshole.
Anden wasn't impressed by Bastien, and he pretty words, or his pretty face, or even the way he seemed to romanticize just breathing. Anden had seen his own fangs before, when he was washing up his face in a small pool of water. It wasn't something he took pride in himself. They reminded Anden he was cursed to forever be different, to walk a path most wouldn't need to.
Charming Asshole.
He wasn't as lucky as Bastien made him out to be. Safrin - it wasn't the first time he'd heard about the goddess, but it was the first time he'd heard about something being involved with her. Anden believed Bastien's story though, the man was charming - even if he was a bit of an ass. A partying ass, at that. Anden chuckled, there were a great many things he didn't need to know about Bastien, his orgy-filled past being one of them.
Hormonal Asshole.
Anden had no way of knowing about Bastien's own curse. He wondered briefly why the goddess would turn on him so, but Anden knew better than to gossip about people he had just met. Besides the last thing he needed was to get caught up in more goddess drama. "The Voice was willing to help?" Anden seemed shocked, to know that the one who so quickly changed Anden's life forever was willing to do so to help a man like Bastien, it was eye-opening.
It wasn't until moments after Bastien finished explaining all that the Voice had done for him, that it clicked for Anden. He wasn't talking in the present. Bastien was talking about his past. "I'm sorry for your loss." Anden wasn't sure how, or what happened to his wife, but Anden could only assume it was something terrible - afterall Bastien lived in the Grounds, and only the most empty of hearts live here.
Maybe HE was the asshole.
I never knew The Voice could do things like that for people... I just knew she could turn people into monsters." Anden sighed, feeling the spikes along his back again. How something like that could be considered a blessing he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to argue with a man who had lost his wife about it. "Tell me," Anden asked, looking at the half-empty glass Bastien had placed on the bar. "If I'm not cursed, if I am truly blessed by The Voice, why has she not said so. Why has she not come to prove her innocence? Why does she let me live my life despising her for everything she's taken from me?"
11-07-2020, 06:13 PM (This post was last modified: 11-07-2020, 06:13 PM by Bastien.)
BASTIEN
i am the remedy to your heart,
While Bastien could see that Anden was not immediately too impressed with him, he was pleased to see the man's expression soften as his usual charm did it's work. It was very rare people stayed angry or irritable with Bastien De Rosieres; his ability to turn the mood of any conversation around was something he prided himself on. When it came to Rexanna he did of course quieten a little, nodding with a soft smile at Anden's words, but determinedly did not linger too long; that was for later, when he was by himself in the night.
"Well, that all depends on what you see as a monster, hm? I prefer to see our bodies as a new, better way of life." The Voice had given them forms that could be adapted, changed and added to as the user wished, making the physical form so much more than a restricting vessel. Musing on this, Bastien briefly lifted his pencil from the sketch of Anden and made some notes on the side of the page, in Italian as always, so that they may not be read by others.
Il corpo Asceso stesso come opera d'arte?
Forse le nostre aggiunte sono un colpo di pennello ...
He looked up at the question, this time keeping back the smirk that threatened to appear on his face. "Because, my new friend, she is a Goddess. She doesn't care what any mortal thinks of her. If you wish to speak to her, grow close to her as a member of the Ascended, you will find a love better than any you have known...but don't mind her, and she won't mind you. The Gods are too busy to chase after mortals...or, immortals, in this case, but still not deities."
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
A better way of life? Anden wasn't sure about that. His body wasn't even his own anymore. It was The Voice's creation. She played with the very basics that made Anden - Anden. As if she wanted to see just how far she could change him before he wasn't himself anymore, until he was a monster.
But here was Bastien, living his own life. He'd even had a child and a wife. Bastien was able to live a new life, even after being dropped in this world. Even after being curse. After everything, he still praised the goddess. Anden took another swig from his drink, if only it could fog his mind so he could stop overthinking it all.
None of this was supposed to be happening. The last thing Anden expected to do when he came to the bar was to think. He wanted to clear his mind, to forget. Instead he was faced with reality. And the reality of his situation was that he was just a whiny kid who got left behind.
Anden meant nothing to The Voice. So why was she all that Anden could think about?
"Are you a happy man Bastien?" He wasn't really sure why he was asking. It's not Bastien's happiness would make or break Anden's. They didn't know each other, and from the way Bastien spoke Anden could tell that they had little in common. That didn't stop Anden from looking at the man as inspiration. If Bastien could still be happy after being here longer than Anden, than why couldn't he?
"It's just hard to imagine. A world where I'm living on my own. A life where I'm... Free." He hesitated on his own words. What did free even mean now? Was he free from Eloise Marie, or free from the expectations of his old world. Or was it something different altogether. Anden stared at his now empty cup, before returning to Bastien's eyes. "And if I'm truly free to live my life however I please, why do I feel like I'd be giving up on myself if I do."
Adding in shading and hatching to his portrait, Bastien looked up just in time to see Anden drink and smiled distractedly; he had always found it charming that the Ascended continued their habits from their previous lives. He was sure the Voice likely considered it an unfortunate flaw in her creations, but it made them more recognisable as human to the other races. That, and there was a comfort in a regular routine, which was why he (and Azrael) still had a bed time.
"Ah-" He had not been expecting quite such a personal question and his pencil paused on the page. "...Once, last year, I would have said yes without hesitation. Now? Well, I am not unhappy, and if I am its certainly not due to my Ascension, but..." A heavy sigh followed, though no tears; he was dry after the seasons of grieving he'd done. "Without my Rexanna I feel like a half of a whole. Incomplete. I continue anyway, of course, but sometimes it is like I have lost my heart. I suspect it will heal in time, and I shall eventually see her, of course, but..."
He shrugged, not knowing when that'd be or what it'd look like.
At least Anden's words were interesting enough to pull him away from the dark place that beckoned. "Free? Were you not free in your last world? A slave?"
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
Something pulled at Anden's heart. He knew that Bastien had a past riddled with sadness, just from the way he spoke. But he didn't know it was still so fresh in his mind. He played the part of a happy artist quite well. "Sorry." He mumbled once more. Dancing around sad thoughts wasn't exactly Anden's strong suit.
He could symphonize with the artist. He too felt his heart had faded out of existence when he lost Eloise. Part of Anden felt it was wrong to say he lost her, he had no way of knowing she was dead. Unlike Bastien who knew his love was gone from this world. The feeling though, of feeling the void where his heart once pulsed with excitement at the sound of her laughter... That he knew was the same. Anden placed his glass down on the bartop, moving it to Bastien's shoulder. He wasn't good with his words but he'd hope Bastien understood.
"I may as well have been. Or maybe that's wrong to say." He didn't have the scars that the others had. It wasn't the same. "In my world there was one kingdom that ruled everything they could touch." His face soured remembering the tales he'd head from those who fled the royal's grip. "I never left the small tavern my family owned at the very edge of it all. The closest I got was to explore the forest." The forest was never-ending, it's where everyone fled to. To a better life on the other side. If there even was a better life on the other side. "My family stayed, to light the way for those who fled, even if I wanted nothing more than to run and put the horrors of the Kingdom behind me."
Anden shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of the past. He had to think of the future, he took to his feet. Standing infront of Bastien who shook all of the doubt off. It was something his twin had taught him when he started to worry too much. To just close his eyes and shake, it was oddly therapeutic. "All better." He whispered.
"What do you do to keep your mind busy?" If Anden was going to survive Caido, he had to keep himself occupied. He had to keep looking forward. He had to prevent himself from lingering in the darkness.
Bastien gave a smile and patted Anden's hand on his shoulder, not one for genuine self pity; "No apologies necessary. It is good to talk of what has happened sometimes." It helped him to purge some of the sadness, and it made him feel as if she was being remembered, honoured, told about; as long as he made sure people knew who she was, that she had died, that she was amazing...she was alive.
Anden told a tale of a place that sounded most horrible, almost a metaphor for how sickly and trapping the structure of civilisation could be; Bastien nodded attentively, blowing a sigh out of his mouth as the other man finished in amazement. "Then you are strong in spirit. You must be. That is probably why the Voice chose you." Putting down his pencil and leaning in, hoping he'd seem sincere, Bastien insisted: "You're freer than you've ever been, now. The Voice allows us to adapt our bodies however we want. Helps us to achieve what we desire. Ah, look-"
Suddenly Bastien's face would shift and change, his features different; a different man entirely before Anden for a moment, then back to the regular artist, both laughing. "I wanted to be able to change my appearance on a whim, and now I can!"
As for how he kept his mind busy - he gestured down to his sketchbook. "I make my art, and I teach those who want to learn how to make their own. You are welcome to come to the Sanctuary for your own creative fulfilment, if you'd like to."
I am the carbon collected. I am the printed upon your stars.
