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!
"A machine?" It's not a word commonly used in her experience, and she has to search her lexicon to try and give it definition that makes sense. Even then, she's frowning, confused, though the confusion quickly changes to anger and concern as Finn's revelations are made.
For each piece of information she offers two more questions, quickly abandoning any lingering insecurity about their relationship in favor of pursuing this troubling news. By the time the full breadth of his knowledge is revealed the pair has stopped their walking, both staring at the inky sea, Amalia's expression clouded and dark. "Safrin hollowed out the Spire... there's nothing in there," she says slowly, shivering at the idea of returning to that empty pit. "Except... Delphia once told me she wanted to search it for Ascended souls. Could that be part of it?"
Absently Amalia reaches up to run her fingers through her hair, avoiding the thorns that now curl behind her ears like a crown. Anger flashes in her eyes when she turns back to Finn, though it isn't for the Spyglass. "What is the Order doing about this? Why did you have to defy them to come tell me?"
Finn knows very little about the search for Ascended souls, and he shakes his head gently, setting his briefcase down since they have paused to watch the ocean, the Spyglass burying his hands in his pockets. "I am not sure. When I met her she didn't mention anything like that to me, but perhaps you know her better than I," he says slowly, wondering how this could all link together.
His stormy gaze slides sideways towards her, the Spyglass catching the rage in it but for once not seeming to take it into himself as the cause. "The owl you saw, I was given it by Safrin," he explains. "She isn't like any creature I have encountered before. She brought me the book where I learned about this machine. So as far as I can gather, the Order is doing nothing about it. Which is why I am here."
Does she know Delphia better? Amalia shakes her head, biting her lip. "I've only met her once," she murmurs, "A long time ago. I promised to help her find souls, but..." Things happened. Life changed. Another task was left behind in the tides of constant change.
A little fondness comes into her face at the mention of Safrin and the owl, her eyebrow raising up a fraction at the memory of the bird's assault on Finn. "She must be fond of you," the girl says wistfully, though whether about goddess or bird is left vague. "So Safrin wanted you to know. Then she must want something done about it."
She begins to pace, turning from Finn, her mind racing- then something stops in her tracks. The anger that filled her earlier is nothing compared to this, fire dancing through her hair and down the length of her spine. "Nothing," Amalia repeats softly, fur spreading over her bare shoulders, the crown of thorns growing longer still. "Nothing. They want to stop a war, and yet they do nothing."
She's practically vibrating with frustration now, spinning in the sand to glare at Finn, her onyx eyes alight. "Wessex rules the Hollowed Grounds. The Ascended grow in number and strength. We can't do this alone." Hands clenched tightly into fists, the Shield feathers her jaw. "I need to talk to them. To this Eye. I need to go to Stormbreak, Finn. You need to take me."
"That was my assumption, yes," Finn says slowly, the dark waves reflecting in his stormy eyes and making them appear black. If Safrin wanted it, then it must have been a warning. She had said the owl basically acted of her own accord, and no celestial being would have given him such a colossal hint without expecting him to do something about it. Right...? Right.
But when he glances to Amalia again, the girl is full of riotous flame, delivering anger and orders and causing the Spyglass to take a couple of steps away from her, narrowly avoiding tripping over his briefcase as a result. "No."
It's perhaps the first time such a solid refusal has left his lips, and though it makes him want to crawl inside his own head and not come back out again, Finn stands firm. "I am a part of the Order, and I am doing something about it. I have come to you," he says slowly. "I was under house arrest after breaking protocol the last time we met. I broke that to be here - I likely won't ever see the inside of my home again."
As he says the words they echo faintly, and Finn realises the gravity of what he has actually done by leaving tonight. "To take you back there would be to strand you there. And it would be at great personal cost." His job notwithstanding, it would cripple him with sickness to let someone hitch a ride with his compass. "So I am here, asking for your help with this, Amalia. Will you help me?"
There's something in the firm way he says the single word that sets Amalia back on her heels, causing her to blink in a quelled surprise. Caught up as she is in her own riotous emotions, she hadn't anticipated anything but compliance from the man. Now her temper oscillates between flaring and faltering, not sure if she ought to shake him and demand his compass or simply let it go. That he has a personal stake in this - that he's made choices that have cost him dearly - are not lost on the Shield, but gods if it isn't frustrating to feel helpless once again.
In the end Amalia does deflate, her volatile temper giving wat to a tired determination. Stepping forward toward the ocean, the girl is quiet for a long time before she speaks again. The fire dims, her hair returning to its normal color, thorns subsiding as the Shield takes a slow and measured breaths. "Okay," she says, closing her eyes, her alto voice exhaled out like smoke. "I'll help you. Of course I'll help you."
Opening her eyes again, Amalia turns to look over her shoulder at Finn. "So what's the plan?"
No sooner has he said it, Finn is racked by self-doubt, and he spends the interim wondering who this man is who has stepped forward from his subconscious. This man who has left the other parts of him safely locked away, sneaking him out of StormBreak and telling the demigod of Vi what he will and will not be doing. Then Amalia speaks and Finn seems to deflate, his fists unclenching in his pockets, and for the first time since his arrival, he looks tired. An old, old weariness that has him nodding gratefully to her.
"I would like to inform as many of the other demigods about this as possible. As far as my skills are concerned, I work best behind the scenes. But if I can get to the Hollowed Grounds and I can see the Spire, I can do further research about it. I have brought as many of my notes with me as possible," he explains. "I just thought you would be the best person to start with. You... care, about things."
She only half turns back to Finn, her feet digging through the soft sand. It's been a whirlwind of an evening already, and Amalia can feel a headache beginning to grow beneath her temples. "The other demigods... Remi and Ronin are in the Greatwood, I think, but I should be able to contact them." Rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully, Amalia exhales. "Delphia I haven't seen in a year... Seren is a child. Phoebe and I fought last time I saw her." About the Order, in fact, but that doesn't seem pertinent now. "Frey's children died at LongNight. I don't know of any others, but I can think of some people who might help."
Feeling too anxious to stand still, the girl decides instead to sit in the sand, glancing at the ground beside her in invitation to Finn but not pushing for him to join. "Can you still use your compass?" Amalia asks, "Otherwise you can take the portal, it lets out right in the Spire." Idly she begins to dig into the sand with her feet, burying her toes. "Though I doubt Wessex would be thrilled, if she found out why we were there."
Something about Finn - some strand of tension, perhaps - seems to snap and relax in him to hear that the Taliesins are not in Torchline. Quite why he is still so perturbed by the prospect of meeting with Remi again is beyond the Spyglass, and he puts it down to a memory from when he was sick. That would explain things, at least somewhat. Amalia sits but Finn remains standing, hearing her out with his eyes on the barely discernible waves.
"My compass still works, yes. It will bring me to the Temple in your Hollowed Grounds," he explains. "I can attempt to speak with Phoebe and Delphia in your stead, if you like, and we can meet there in a few days." As for Wessex? Finn's smile comes nowhere near his eyes. "Then perhaps we should ensure that she does not find out."
He doesn't sit and she doesn't begrudge him, tucking her knees against her chest as she stares out at the waves. The weight of what he's said is settling on her fully now, pressing against Amalia's shoulders in a heavy, comfortless weight. "Then I can speak to Remi and Ronin," she agrees quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the press of the sea. "And maybe... Vi will want to hear about this. Or Safrin, at the least. They can offer more guidance."
She's found a stick from some distant shore, still with its bark, and now begins to strip it down, exposing the soft white wood within. "First we should go back to the Climb," Amalia muses, looking at the tunneled patterns that stretch delicately through the wood. "See if the cure is ready. Are you- did you need any water?"
Finn nods, the movement almost imperceptible and likely lost in the darkness and the waves that they are both watching. Allowing her to speak with Remi and Ronin is a balm he doesn't expect to feel, and the involvement of gods - of Vi and Safrin - that soothes him further, calming nerves that he hasn't realised have begun to fray. The adrenaline of his departure from Stormbreak is beginning to wear off, leaving him drained, limbs heavy, thoughts beginning to fog.
Amalia speaks again - of the Climb, of the place where he began to unravel in earnest - and the Spyglass swallows hard, knowing it to be necessary but seeming nonetheless unsure of it. "I have water," he confirms, nodding to his briefcase where everything he needs has been stored. "Do you have enough to last you, as well? When you are ready to depart, perhaps we could meet in Halo."
Amalia too is tired, though her heart still beats at an accelerated rate she's certain he can hear. Turning her head upon her knees, she looks from the briefcase (such a strange thing, like his clothes) up to Finn, warm cheek cooled by the skin on her legs. "I do," she confirms, gazing at the silhouette beside her through dark eyes.
Again she frowns, troubled anew, and chews upon her lip. "Where will you go until then?" He's made it seem that he can't go home, and suddenly the Shield is afraid he'll slip through her fingers once again, vanish into the sea. Tumultuous as her feelings towards the Spyglass are, he's currently her strongest tie to the Order and the purpose they dangle so tantalizingly, to knowledge she has only the barest concept of.
He's also her friend.
"Stay with me."
The words slip out barely louder than a whisper, almost more of a question than an instruction. A plea- and swiftly she turns back to the sea, clearing her throat, grateful for the darkness that hides her flush. "I mean- we should go soon. So we might as well go together. Unless... unless you had somewhere else you needed to be, first."
Finn nods gentle understanding that Amalia has enough springs water to last until something more permanent can be arranged; the last thing any of them need is for the sickness to begin affecting Vi's demigod when the business about this machine is rearing its head. As for where he is staying until they head to Halo? He nods off down the beach, having already mentioned where he was headed when he first arrived. "I was going to get another room at the inn, until it was time to leave," he explains, only to abruptly cut off as her whisper hits the air, barely audible.
The Spyglass clears his throat, raking his fingers through his curls, and his cheeks flush pink with the implication that he might be mishearing or misunderstanding things. "I'm sorry?" he asks, his own tone lowering somewhat. "I... I don't use the portals," he tries again. "I was going to head straight to Halo with my compass. I can take another person, but it isn't... ideal. Or pleasant." Extreme nausea rarely is.
She's supremely grateful that he's standing and she's sitting, because otherwise she's confident that Finn would feel the awkwardness that washes off her in waves. And her attempts to clarify are swift and bumbling, a little higher pitched than normal as she strains to erase the slip of the tongue that stains the evening pink as a rose. "I- I just meant that you could stay here. If... if you wanted. The house is empty, except for me. But if you would prefer the Inn you should go there." Very very smooth, Amalia.
She wraps her hands around her ankles, sinking deeper against her knees. For another long moment the Shield is silent, taking in the lapping waves, the distant call of a Hel as it circles high above the cliffs. "Why are you doing this, Finn?" she asks at last, not turning back to look at the Spyglass. "Leaving your home, your job, coming to me- why?"
Finn lives in the realms of supreme awkwardness, so they make quite the two peas in a pod as Amalia fumbles to explain, the Spyglass already leaning to pick up his briefcase again. "Oh," he says, and it's nigh on impossible to figure out what kind of oh it is. "I am not sure... that is to say, I couldn't intrude upon you like that, Amalia. I think the inn would suit me fine." Part of him wants to say yes, of course. The rest of him remembers shutting his hand in a door and breaking it to avoid seeing her.
Then she asks what might seem like a very complex question, a question that to Finn seems quite simple in retrospect. He offers a small smile to the Shield, his hand stretching out to offer her a hand up from the beach. "It is the right thing to do," he says, and even though it's not true, not by a long shot, it's something he truly does believe in that moment.
