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!
Do you remember what you said to me?
'Cause we lost track of time
Sam had always been a fan of walks, valuing the chance to be on his own and think; since returning to the Grounds he had done little but set off on short hikes across the Woodlands and Outskirts. It was hard to stay in Sanctuary or in his shop, the familiar places reminding him too much of his lost attempt at relocation to Torchline and how it had all failed, how he had failed.
Some grim part of his mind also thought he should walk now, while he had the chance; if he were jailed for his crime later, he worried he'd find he regretted not using his freedom while he had it.
Going nowhere in particular he followed a winding gravel road between fields, looking up at the dusk sky. Two years ago he had been here, on this kind of walk; things had been so different then, the issues so small compared to what occupied his mind now. Remi and their romantic tryst and associated problems, fears that others simply 'didn't like' him; certainly no fears of being convicted for murder.
Deciding to rest (and clear his mind of doom) he went to sit on a short wall besides the road, hands in his pockets, and watch the last embers of the sunset turn to stars.
Yeah, we lost track of time
You always let me down so tenderly
10-30-2020, 03:14 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2020, 03:14 AM by Edwyn.)
Edwyn
the goal isn't to live forever
"Sam?"
Sam doesn't really know Edwyn, but who doesn't know Sam?
Raising a hand to the man, Edwyn makes his way over. The writer is all easy smiles and casual posture, dressed appropriately for the season and their race, which was just to say wearing only a t-shirt and trousers. The smile on his face is genuine and wide, the smile one might give to an old friend, which the two certainly are not. But that's just the sort of man Edwyn was: he treated everyone as though they were close friends, extending every courtesy and comfort even when it was perhaps strange to do so.
"Edwyn," He supplements, not wanting to make the red-head have to awkwardly fumble for his name in return. "What a lovely night it is. Don't you think?"
SORRY. I lost this since it wasn't in my queueeeee
Do you remember what you said to me?
'Cause we lost track of time
"Oh - hmm?" Sam looked about for who had called his name, his eyes finally falling on the face of a man that he'd definitely seen before, but who he was not intimately familiar with. He was Ascended, he knew that much, and Sam felt the familiar faint pang of panic in his chest that he was somehow about to be told off for his particular faults when it came to serving the Voice.
Thankfully, it seemed Edwyn was at least starting off friendly, even reminding Sam of his name (Sam's plan had been to avoid mentioning it at all costs). "Edwyn. Hello." He looked out to the sky, the soft fade into night time that was occurring above them, nodding. "Yes, it's quite beautiful. The Hollowed Grounds can seem..drab, at times, but it does have it's moments." He had to remind himself of that, if he was going to stay sane here.
"How are you?" Sam asked, lifting one leg to rest against the wall. "I don't usually see you outside of Ascended meetings..."
Yeah, we lost track of time
You always let me down so tenderly
"Oh, I think everything has its moments if you know how to look." The writer emphatically agrees. Turning his blue stare toward Sam, he smiles widely, gaze soft and friendly, suggesting that Sam too might be one such thing to have its moments, if only one knew how to look.
"I'm well, thank you for asking." How one man could constantly sound so enthusiastic and genuine, was impossible to know, but someone Edwyn managed it. "And you? I can go if i'm interrupting—" Gesturing toward the pathway, content to keep walking should his presence prove a bother at all, Edwyn just shrugs slightly. "No...No I suppose you haven't." He agrees. "This conflict isn't...something I'm so good with." The writer admits with a slight laugh. "But I suppose it isn't really fair for me to just stay inside, writing my books, and letting you all fight my battles, so here I am!"
Do you remember what you said to me?
'Cause we lost track of time
Not noticing the implication there in the stare, Sam smiled and nodded, looking over to Edwyn with naught but a polite smile. "Oh, no, of course not! Actually, it's quite nice to have someone to talk to." His expression changed into something a little more genuine as he expressed this and thought it over; he had wanted more friends in the Hollowed Grounds, especially Ascended, and Edwyn seemed to be as friendly as they came.
"I don't really care for it all either, but I seem to get pulled into it no matter what I do..." Sam sighed, staring down at the road; how he wished he could squirrel away and write and never worry about the Ascended's issues again, but it seemed that he was unable to; the Voice would call him, or Wessex would insist, or he'd feel obligated through some moral string-pulling...there was always something. "What kind of books have you been writing? I could always sell them in my store for you, if you wanted."
Yeah, we lost track of time
You always let me down so tenderly
"Lovely. Well, I shall continue to try and make it stay that way." The writer brightly replied, moving to stand beside Sam and mirroring his posture.
Frowning slightly as the other man spoke, Edwyn's eyes softly falling along the curve of Sam's jaw and memorizing the movements, the writer nodded. "It's all the more reason to fight for it now, maybe." Edwyn's tone is careful now, as if what he's saying he's testing out for himself as well, to see how they sat and how they felt. "Because...if we can show everyone once and for all that we belong here...well, maybe then it will all be over. It isn't like this can go on forever." He laughs, but they both know that in fact, it very well could.
'Oh! Well...' He can't blush, but the way his eyes lower, his chin tucks, and his smile becomes secretive, is every bit as bashful as a blush would be. "..I write a lot of poetry, actually. And fiction. It's...well, it's mostly fiction." Turning toward Sam with a wide white smile, the writer nodded emphatically. "I would love that! That is, if it's no trouble for you. I wouldn't want to bring your reputation down, or anything."
Do you remember what you said to me?
'Cause we lost track of time
While once he would have taken comfort from the kind of words Edwyn was offering, Sam now found them empty, his experiences having told him that they weren't true. "Unfortunately, I think there's too many people that will never believe we belong, and I don't think fighting with them is going to change their minds. We're fighting...to decide who wins, not to convince anybody." It was uncomfortable even if it was correct and he sighed, fidgeting where he sat and picking at some moss on the wall; he'd often thought how inevitable it felt that he'd see this all come to a war some day.
It also seemed inevitable he'd die to it, but he tried to believe that was just paranoia.
At least Edwyn's books was a much nicer topic, especially as it turned out he wrote things that it sounded like Sam would very much want to read. He was about to reassure him that it was no trouble at all when Edwyn worried after his reputation, and it was all Sam could do to laugh, the sound coming out harsher than he meant it to due to the sudden amusement. "Sorry. I just-- my reputation has never been worse. I doubt your books, even if they were awful, would lower it."
Yeah, we lost track of time
You always let me down so tenderly
"Maybe not everyone." The writer says with a shrug and a twinkle in his eyes. Quite whether he means the ascended or the less of the population isn't entirely clear. Unlike Sam though, the world hasn't broken his spirit, and the cheeriness in his smile suggests as much.
For a moment the writer simply pauses, a curious curl to his lips as he studies the man awkwardly picking at moss before him. "I meant your reputation as a bibliolater." Edwyn corrects without hesitation, his voice unwaveringly confident. "Whatever else is going on with you...I'm sure it has no bearing on that." Conflicts with the Voice and the ascended, relocation from Torchline, relationship drama? surely none of it had anything at all to do with Wordsworth Books, and the tomes held within.
Do you remember what you said to me?
'Cause we lost track of time
Edwyn's cheer surrounding the situation was almost jarring to the defeated, resigned worldview Sam held about the whole thing and it took him a moment to swallow the irrational angry response he felt to it, jealousy arising in him that Edwyn could so easily smile when it felt the Ascended were being backed into a smaller corner by the moment. His fingers pressed hard against the stone of the wall for a moment, but he released the tension with a sigh.
Maybe they needed that kind of optimism to continue on, he supposed.
As for his reputation as a merchant? He paused, mouth open to speak but nothing quite coming for a moment as he considered it. "I...suppose. Either way, I'm sure your books will do nothing but welcome people into the shop. I need new content...sometimes I feel with the world so open now, all I have is horribly outdated and small minded material. Not being much of a writer myself, it's hard to update it." Hence why he'd asked so many Outlanders to give him their stories.
Yeah, we lost track of time
You always let me down so tenderly
