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!
The Westfall shop is a quiet place, one not too many people are inclined to be at any given hour. Especially not in the late hours of the evening. But Elide suspects that she will find Glas there, perhaps still working away. It's been a long time since she's done business with him so there are doubts in her mind but, not in her steps. Lengthy strides are taken up to the door, which she knocks on at first.
Given no immediate 'go away', Elide slowly slides the door open. A cold breeze billows into the shop with her, for which she closes the door almost immediately. "Glas, are you busy?" She asks into the air, looking around to try and find him.
With her, she is carrying furs and a parcel which can be assumed to harbor books {the relevant sort}. None of these things are for herself. No, she looks rather vampiric in her trademark, cape-like coat. It would never realistically keep the cold out, but... well, you know. "I have something to ask of you," she tacks on, hoping to pique his interest.
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
He’s become more of a recluse lately, though that’s to nobody’s surprise. In fact, the boy has spent most of the season inside, creating orders, sending them off, rinsing and repeating the day as the one year anniversary of his parent’s deaths come closer. He’s so ingrained in his work, actually, that as Elide enters the door and the bell rings to alert him, he doesn’t hear it – focused so intensely on finishing up the little dresser he’s been making, adding a bit of glue to cover the space where the nails wouldn’t be able to seal it completely.
He almost jumps as he hears his name called, realizing quickly after that it’s Elide, and he puts his tools down, runs a hand through longer blonde hair, and appears from the back door to glance at Elide and offer a quiet nod – never looking at her face, but giving her as much attention as he can. “Hey Elide.” He says by greeting, moving to the other side of the counter and wringing his hands a bit. “No, not really busy. What did you need?” The dresser could wait. He’d already sped through the majority of it anyway.
Elide catches sight of his blond hair, hears his voice call out to her, and she turns towards him immediately. There's a bit of tension in her movements, in the hunching of her shoulders, in the tightening of her jawline; like she's doing something she doesn't quite want to. Even her strides are slower as she makes her way towards the counter.
"What were you working on?" She asks, though she's not sure why she's trying to be casual. She places the offerings on the surface between them and gently prods them in his direction. "These are for you. The coat is made from ursur wool, for the most part. And these are books, you might find them useful," she taps the top of the brown paper that wraps around what would look to be about three thick books.
She pulls in a deep breath, for once, even if she doesn't need it. She uses the action to steady her tensed shoulders and leans her hands down on the counter. "Do you know much about what's going on with the Ascended this upcoming LongNight?" She asks, adding, "We're all expected to fight the monsters, to get rid of them once and for all. So I may not be here for much longer..." and I may not return but she doesn't want to say that. It's quite heavily implied, though.
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
“I was working on a dresser for the Sovs.” He tells her easily, a shrug of his shoulder as his gaze drifts to the offerings on the counter between them, slides them over toward him. He works at his scarred lip as his blonde brows furrow together, reaching for the coat first, running fingers along the coat in a bit of surprise before lifting his gaze just enough to look at her in confusion. “Oh… T-thank you.” He’d gotten a bit better with his stutter, only finding it appear when he least expects it.
His fingers continue to run along the soft ursur wool coat while she explains, his gaze dropping back to the coat as he listens. “N-no. I didn’t hear that.” His brows continue to remain inched together, lips frowning and pulling on the scar that covers half his face. “How… How are you going to get there?” He asks, daring another glance up at her with that same frown, a glimmer of concern sparking through his emerald eyes.
He appears to like the material of the coat, pressing his fingers against the thick fur, and she's glad for that. At his thanks, she merely nods once. He'll understand why she's given him these things... momentarily. For now, though, she doesn't intend on ripping that bandage off yet.
She watches his face, scans it for his reactions. The scar along his cheek and lip pulls and twists with each of his minute movements, telling her that he's processing this information. She wonders if he's figuring out why she's here. It's certainly not to say goodbye. She has no intention of telling anyone that. Although the concern in his eyes ripples through her cool exterior, rather unexpectedly.
"I don't know, truthfully. Not even Wessex was able to answer me that and, if anyone, she would know. But I have reason to believe that the Voice will be.. 'dropping' me into the Grounds. It's certainly not beyond her abilities. Wessex tells me they have a plan for this, but it doesn't seem foolproof," she explains. The tense edge in her tone is gone and her voice is growing softer. She meets his gaze and admits quietly, "I have my doubts, Glas, I don't know how things will end."
Straightening, she goes on, "If I'm not to return after LongNight, you are free to make use of my study for... whatever you need. I fear you are one of the only people who might." She smiles, though there is no heart in it.
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
Glas has never had the experience with being able to harbor his emotions and keep them hidden behind masks. No, instead it’s all read along his face and his eyes, in the shift and pull of frowns and the pull of his scar with the frowns that cross it. The tense edge of her voice only adds to it, has him glancing up with concern still quite easily placed on his face, offering her a quiet nod because he doesn’t know what else to say just yet.
Of course, until she mentions that she doesn’t know how it’s going to end. Until she mentions that she may not return and he’s already shaking his head as their gaze meets, the offer of using her study one that has him worried even more so. “But…” He trails off, grasping onto the coat tightly as if it might ground him. “You h-have to.” She has to come back. She and Hester were probably his only friends, and if he lost them too? What then?
“C-can I help?” The young Westfall asks, not knowing what else he could do to help her. He could try and craft her a weapon or anything else, but he doesn’t know what she’d need.
02-12-2021, 10:25 PM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2021, 10:26 PM by Elide.)
Elide
It is for a moment that Glas' emotions bring forth some of her own, which is apparent in the brief sheen of her eyes, in the way her voice quiets. Only for that moment, however. As his expression deepens and the conversation darkens, she strengthens. As is like her. Even if this is hard and she's afraid, she won't show it. It wouldn't do either of them any good.
"I will certainly try," she levels back at him, gaze flickering down to his hand as it grasps tightly onto the coat. Her brows furrow.
At his question, Elide suddenly feels ashamed. It wasn't her intention to use his own emotions to her advantage. "I don't mean to trouble you, Glas," she says, "I'm sorry for that. It is the truth, though. As my friend, you deserve honesty."
She pulls her shoulders back and her eyes swerve back up to his face. "That being said, I admit I didn't come here to bid you farewell. I wouldn't be so cruel as to needlessly worry you over things that are out of your control." Stark hesitance makes her pause, but no heavy sigh punctuates it like it might have, once. "There is something you might be able to do to help me. I know you have your crafting ability, which is a fine thing. But I have the entire arsenal of the Shields at my fingertips. So I'm wondering if you have another magic. Something that might be better... for a fight."
She eyes him, steeling against the possibility that he may decline. It would fully be within his rights, and she wouldn't blame him for it. So she makes no attempt to convince him. It's his choice, what he wants to offer - if anything.
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
She tries to assure him that she’ll try to come back, but it doesn’t alleviate the worry that settles in Glas’ chest. But when she apologizes, he shakes his head as if to brush the apology away. “T-that’s good.” He comments instead, trying to believe it that she hadn’t come to bid him farewell and give him a few of her things and a gift. So his gaze lifts again, daring to look at Elide with no happiness swirling in his gaze, just simply the uncertainty of it all.
As for helping her? His head tilts slightly, he’s quiet for a long moment as he chews on the inside of his ruined cheek again, brows pinching together as he considers it. “I have… Life drain. It’s not… Not very strong, but.” It’s an option, possibly, but then something else swirls in his gut, continuing to chew on the inside of his cheek. “I’ve… N-never been bit before.” There’s a hint of apology in his voice as he says it, willing to do it, but yet still so unsure.
Elide watches him consider his answer, watches as his cheek presses in against his teeth and he chews at it. Still, she is quiet. He will have to be the first to break the silence. If it's awkward, Elide doesn't feel it. To her, this is a favor, one that could be life-saving in the heat of the moment - not a way to satisfy some urge. She has no inclination towards pleasure, not even before Ascending. She's relieved, at least, that he understands the implications here.
"You are the only person left for me to ask this of," she states, a bit matter-of-fact, "and.. I'm running out of time. Or else I might have gone to someone else, rather than ask this of you."
At the revelation that he's never been bitten before, she tilts her head in understanding. In an attempt to ease any apprehension he may have, she explains, "It will be over before you know it, and in the moment... you may get certain feelings. The bite is meant to feel good. But at most, you'll only lose a bit of blood - and I will gain your life drain magic, to use against the monsters," she does frown thoughtfully, though, "it might hurt afterwards, but I will do my best to make sure the wound isn't deep - and you can rest knowing that you've done something to help."
"If you'll let me."
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
At the realization that he’s the last option for her, he frowns. Surely there were others that could be helpful to her, others that would be willing – unless of course, he’s drastically misunderstood any changes that have occurred since his decision to hermit himself in his workshop unless absolutely necessary. Which is a possibility, after all. So he offers her a sharp nod, a sharp inhale of breath in his nose before he’s looking back down at the books and the coat as she goes to explain, unable to truly look at her for any of it.
“Okay.” He says at first, nodding again to let her know that he understands what it means. As for it hurting, well, he aims for a bit of humor even if it doesn’t spark in his eyes or his voice, his free hand rising to his cheek. “I’ve… had worse.” And he had, evident by the half Glasgow smile on his face.
But he does manage to look up at her again. “Do you… Just need my wrist? Or something?” He doesn’t know how this works, but he does lift his hand anyway, just in case he’d been correct in his assumption.
Elide's shoulders stoop just a fraction, relieved that Glas is okay with this - and even conjures up a bit of humor. She doesn't quite laugh at the notion, though, brows furrowing in sympathy. It must have been very painful. As a small warning, she says, "It might leave a scar..."
As he asks how she wants to go about this, offering his arm, Elide's gaze remains on his. She's not some bloodthirsty animal that can't wait to sink her teeth into him. "The wrist is fine, if that's where you prefer the bite. It will work no matter where you're bitten," she points out, just in case he really doesn't know.
"Alright. Just try to stay relaxed, and think... of something else," her hand lifts to grasp his wrist firmly, fingers cold. Her gaze shifts, a silent warning that she's going to do it now.
She hesitates for a few moments longer before she pulls his flesh up to her fangs as they're revealed. They pierce and the blood immediately flows. Excitement spikes in her own veins as they feel this new, different power drift in on Glas' blood. For a heartbeat, she forgets her promise that she'll try not to make the marks too deep.
Her fingers tighten around his wrist as she steadies herself, pulling back a fraction. And then a fraction more, resisting the urge to give to this strangely intoxicating temptation. The blood doesn't even taste good. She focuses on that to keep herself grounded, on that metallic, coppery taste. When she's had enough, which isn't too long because she can barely stand to do this, she unhinges her fangs and pulls back.
She frees his hand and reaches it up to wipe the pooled blood on her lips. "That was my first bite, as well," she admits, feeling almost dazed. Looking back up at him, she feels the effects of the bite fade away rather quickly - much to her relief. Now she wonders if he's alright, how it's impacted him. "How do you feel?"
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
Scars were just another thing that Glas doesn’t really care about – nothing beating out the one permanently marked on his face of all things, a few shimmering small ones of bite marks would be like nothing in comparison. Even as Elide lets her gaze focus on his face, he doesn’t meet her eyes – conditioned to keep his head down, to not look people in the eye for the most part, he keeps his head a bit down and offers a nod. Wrist would be easiest, it would be the best.
“Okay.” So he tries to think of something else, tries to think of anything else as she grips his wrist. And he doesn’t know what to expect, not as the electricity sparks within him and his fingers are curling into the ursur wool coat to try and latch onto something – his cheeks flushing in both surprise and confusion with the hum that leaves him without him anticipating it.
He’s breathing heavier when she finishes and he swallows down all thoughts of everything as she lets his wrist go and he draws it back, placing his hand over the marks left behind, focusing on the admission she gives, while Glas continues to try and swallow down hard. “F-f-fine.” He tells her, for how he’s feeling, even if he doesn’t exactly know how to describe the feeling he has. He eventually reaches up to brush back the blonde hair from his face, keeping himself rooted to the spot behind the counter, finally daring to glance up at Elide’s face, his own pale skin flushed.
Elide's expression softens, even if only by a fraction and she still retains that air of aloof coolness. Clearly he is not fine, and she feels guilty for that, eyeing the way he seems to tense as she wipes the blood off of her lips. His throat flexes with a heavy swallow and his skin pales, but instead of being honest he claims that he's fine.
She smiles softly, meaning to gloss over this awkward exchange as best she can. "I owe you a debt, Glas," she offers, "and hopefully I will be able to make good on that come Flowerbirth." At least they'll be able to agree on that, on hoping she makes it out of this alright.
She wants to apologize for the inconvenience but, the words seem to fall short. They don't come out at all, for that matter. There's only a strained silence, leaving Glas to broken thoughts and Elide to impending actions.
"I should be going..." she states after a few moments, sounding reluctant, "I have things to get in order for LongNight." In a sweep of her coat and farewells rendered, Elide makes her way out of the shop. She pauses in the doorway only for a few seconds, not looking back but looking forward. Then the door is shut, and who's to know if she will walk through it again?
fin<3
never before had the song of war been the song of hope ascending
