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!
Sam laughed at the bizarre compliment, only realising when it was said back to him quite how odd it sounded. "Thank you. You're one of the first to say so."
He always loved to hear of Gods, traditions and myths from other worlds, so Sam listened intently to her descriptions of Apollo, intending to note them down later for a future book collating all Gods from other worlds. He had occasionally wondered if the Voice had the power to bring Gods through the portal, if she could yet strip deities of their powers and drag them to help her. "Then you must have been very special? Have done something special for him?" Sam asked, if being blessed was such an honour.
Ludo could be difficult indeed; Sam laughed at what felt like an understatement. Any of the Gods could be difficult, including the Voice, even at the best of times. "Well...admittedly I don't have many. A couple of years ago, I tried to talk to them, and they cast sunlight on me, which is very painful for the Ascended." He glanced over to see if she knew that.
"Safrin did talk to me with Amalia present, but...well. Their disdain is clear. And I suppose when they say things against Ascended, they feel personal." He shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed that he didn't have enough examples.
Arialla laughed with Samuel, glad to hear him amused -- glad that she could brighten his mood at least a little.
"I ... hm." She sobered a bit, thinking back to her own blessing. "His attention made me very special, but I don't know that I did anything unique. He was impressed by my devotion, and he heard my prayers. But, well, gods are capricious. Another girl could have made the same prayers, shown the same devotion, and received only silence. I benefited from his whim."
Another smile, but that faded as Arialla listened to Samuel's grievances. She'd heard something about the Ascended's aversion to sunlight, but hadn't realized it was so painful. "If you look at it from their perspective, the Ascended are those who have chosen to defy them, to turn against them ... I'm not surprised that they react with cruelty. That is -- I don't mean to lack sympathy for your experiences. Cruelty from the gods is still cruelty -- is sometimes all the more cruel for it -- and I'm sorry that you've experienced that."
She paused, trying to figure out how to word her next thought in a way that would appeal to Samuel, and finally settled on: "But they are gods. If they are not appeased, it is ... natural for them to be cruel. Just as a fire will rage if unchecked."
Had that gotten the point across? She wasn't sure.
"I suppose to an extent we're held to the God's whims here too..." Sam sighed, thinking of how he'd heard Safrin could take things personally, or how even the Voice could have severe mood swings that took her from the sweet mother figure he knew to someone cold and harsh, ready to toss him out into the world to die for a lack of loyalty. "I just never quite considered it that way. But I know some people pray fervently and still have no answer."
While Arialla wasn't wrong, it was clear she had experiences with Gods perhaps harsher or more distant than the ones on Caido; still, he could see what point she was making. "I understand. I just..." Sam laughed, leaning against a shelf and rubbing at his face, making a self-deprecating admission: "I struggle with anyone not liking me. I suppose it's just all the worse when it's a God."
Arialla nodded. "Without wishing to be cynical -- we can worship the gods, even love them, but it can be unwise to rest all one's hopes on their favor."
Then she stopped herself when she'd meant to elaborate, realizing that Samuel had to rely on the Voice's favor, as an Ascended. She'd already seen that without it, he would die. Maybe it was different for the Ascended, the Voice's chosen ones. And, after all, Arialla had relied on Apollo's blessing herself -- had spent sleepless nights after arriving in Caido wondering if it would fade now, rendering her body more masculine than she wished. By now she was fairly sure it wouldn't, but the worry sometimes lingered at the back of her mind. "Perhaps it's different here. The gods here -- the heralds, at least, and I suppose the Voice -- seem more invested in mortals, more likely to form true relationships. Apollo only ever truly spoke to me once, when he blessed me, and even then it wasn't a conversation -- he didn't expect an answer, beyond gratitude and worship."
Wincing sympathetically, Arialla nodded again. She could scarcely imagine how heavy a god's ire might weigh on one's psyche, even beyond any practical effects the god might cause. It must feel so much more pervasive, as if the world itself had turned against you. And Samuel had said he had never been well-liked -- that must have been hard on him, if he took others' disdain so personally, gods or mortals. "I know it must be difficult. The gods at home had their rivalries, but they weren't generally in active conflict the way the gods here are -- I never had to worry that, say, Poseidon would hate me for being Apollo's chosen ... Your worth isn't determined by others' opinions, though, mortal or god. There's more to the world, and more to people, than divine approval."
Arialla's practical, yet very dry, view of the Gods was oddly refreshing, while at the same time depressing. So many people in Caido jumped right to defending whichever God they got on with the most, a passionate love in their eyes, or would speak of only the moral motivations and actions of their side of the argument - very few stepped outside of the bubble and looked within, considered the Gods as something separate from the people that served them.
"Thank you. I know there is." Smiling to her, he took a breath and stretched out his fingers before him, trying to think of something else to move onto; this was hardly his favourite topic, one that reminded him just how hated he was by a large portion of the world. Looking across at Arialla with a smile instead of the tired and frustrated expression he'd been wearing so far, he asked: "So where have you gotten settled? Have you found some work or something to do?"
Arialla smiled, glad that she seemed to have cheered Samuel up a little. Oh, she couldn't make his problems with the gods go away, as much as she might like to, but maybe a fresh perspective would help a little. If not, then a distraction, perhaps -- so she went along with the change of subject easily.
"I've been living in Torchline since LongNight -- it reminds me of home." And was less depressing than the Hollowed Grounds, but she didn't say that, since this was Samuel's home. "I beachcomb, mostly, for trinkets to trade, and do laundry for my rent. I don't know that it's how I want to spend my time long-term, but it's fine for now."
Hearing that Arialla had settled in Torchline Sam nodded with a grin thinking of the pleasant beaches...but the expression quickly fell, as his thoughts inevitably went to his own failed move there and why he'd had to return. "I've spent some time in Torchline. A job that lets you stay on the beach sounds very nice - I only really got to see it at night, but it was very beautiful still." He supposed he probably wouldn't see the sea again now, at least not unless he survived long enough to see the end of the current human generation.
What a depressing idea.
"Have you met any friends? There's some good people in Torchline. Zephyr, he works on the docks...or Milo, he works for Zeph, and I lived with him very briefly, actually..." His voice was a little distant, the memories pleasant but the fact that they were mere memories at all bitter.
"The ocean is always beautiful, in her many faces." The reminder that Samuel couldn't go out in the sun was a bit sobering, though. Arialla couldn't imagine living with such a limitation. The sun was everything to her, as the former priestess of a sun god. "I'm particularly fond of sunset. I wish you could see it."
Arialla considered for a moment. "I've met a number of people, but I don't know that I would say I'm close to anyone. I did meet Milo -- we helped clean up the beach together, he and Melita and I. I don't think I've crossed paths with Zephyr, though. You know, it seems odd, but Wessex and I keep running into each other."
"Oh, I have seen the sunset - through a window, but I still know it's beautiful. Sometimes...well, um, recently I've become a little more vulnerable to the sun, but before that I could be out at dusk and dawn, and they're lovely times. Especially in Torchline." The colours he had seen in the sky over the ocean had amazed him, the first morning he had been on the beach; coming from the Hollowed Grounds, where the reigning shades were dull and grey, it had been a moment of true awe.
He smiled to hear that she had met Milo, couldn't help but ask: "How is he? I haven't seen him in a while...and I had to leave in a hurry last time. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye how I would've liked to." It felt oddly like a dream now, he and Milo's sudden tryst then quick friendship.
The mention of Wessex sobered him a bit, Sam looking down at the floor and fiddling with his fingers. "..And...what do you think of her?"
"Good." Arialla smiled, then sobered. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that the sun has turned harsher for you, but I'm glad you've gotten to see it, at least."
Arialla thought back to what had been a fairly brief encounter; she couldn't help a bit of a rueful smile as she said, "Well, he spent our entire beach cleanup tripping on boards and scraping himself up. But he seemed all right beyond that. You could always write him a letter," she added, a gentle suggestion.
And then there was Wessex: Arialla thought for a moment before answering. "Well, we didn't get into deep conversations -- certainly not, er, theological ones. But we both showed up to lend a hand in the same places, in the same ways, so we must agree on something. And when I've encountered her she's been ..." Well, kind wasn't the word, exactly, carrying with it some intimation of softness that didn't suit Arialla's picture of Wessex. "Hardworking. Capable. Helpful."
"I'm sure I'll be able to go back out in it in time, it's just waiting until then. I have memories, at least." Sam smiled, hoping that what he was saying was true; that the Voice would forgive him enough for his betrayal to give him back the abilities he had once possessed in full, that he might be able to walk in the day once more.
He nodded quietly when it came to writing Milo a letter. It would be difficult, but he probably did owe it to the man, just to explain what had happened more than anything else. He was sure the note he'd left was anything but reassuring, and it had barely been a couple of weeks after they had agreed to move in together...he wondered how his cartography store, underneath their rooms, was looking. Maybe he could ask, if he did write - not that Milo was at all expected to upkeep it.
"..I see. Well, all those things are true." Sam nodded, looking off a little distantly as he thought over the many disagreements he'd had with their unofficial but definite leader over the years. "I'm afraid she doesn't like me very much - I'm not very gifted in the kinds of skills that she values."
"You will?" Arialla didn't mean to sound surprised; she just didn't know how the Ascended worked that well. But then, the sun hadn't seemed to inconvenience Wessex or Nate too much. She smiled, encouraged by the thought that Samuel was not cut off from daylight -- from her former deity -- forever. "I'm sure you will."
With a frown, Arialla nodded, understanding. Wessex struck her as a warrior, decisive and commanding -- and Samuel, well, did not. He was more thoughtful, clearly more at home with books and knowledge than people or battles. She could see how Wessex might not find that impressive. But: "It takes many skills for a people to thrive. Your intelligence, your knowledge, is important too, even if it's not what Wessex sees as vital."
"Yes. As time goes on, the Voice is able to help us with that. I'm not..." Sam paused, trying to think it over, remember if she did something to his skin or changed his chemistry, but he couldn't recall any times. "..Totally sure how it works, but I've definitely been able to handle more sun over time. I assume that eventually I'll get back there."
Maybe. Hopefully.
Her words were nice, Sam smiling to himself; he'd never hear that from Wessex (or indeed, a lot of people). "Thank you. Hopefully one day I can show people how I can use my skills." His hand ran down a page of a book in front of him, Sam idly picking out some words and fiddling with the corner. "You're very kind, Arialla. I have to go see to my shop, but - any time you like - feel free to come over for some tea."
Offer made he got up to go, giving her a last, genuine smile, sure to make eye contact, something he didn't always find easy.
