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!
Arialla considered Raza's warning carefully while the bartender was away. On one hand, she was quite curious about Raza's opinions, and she'd already told herself that she wouldn't be offended by whatever reservations Raza felt about Outlanders. She suspected that Raza's feelings had to do with the impact, perhaps outsized, that Outlanders had on Caido -- perhaps something to do with the fact that the Governor of Torchline was currently an Outlander -- and if that were the case, Arialla wouldn't mind, as she didn't count herself as one of those influential Outlanders.
Still, she also didn't want to sign herself up to politely listen to hatred of people like her, or turn the nice night into an argument. While she could see ways in which Raza's feelings might be justified, they also might not be. Did Arialla really want to get involved?
On the other hand, wasn't it better to know if the person serving you drinks disliked your kind? If there were Torchers who disliked Outlanders -- and Arialla knew Raza was not alone -- Arialla felt she ought to at least know why.
"My name's Arialla," she said when Raza returned. "I'd like to hear your true thoughts, if you're up for it. I can't say I'll agree with you, but I can understand that it's not personal -- and I won't let it affect the Hanged Man."
Arialla might stop drinking there herself, if she didn't like what she heard, but that would hardly be a big loss, since she didn't drink much anyway. And she certainly wouldn't try to, say, spread word of Raza's opinions to deny her business. Not when Raza had clearly shown that she would serve Outlanders equally with Naturals.
03-11-2021, 10:21 PM (This post was last modified: 03-11-2021, 10:21 PM by Raza.)
RAZA
“Aight,” Raza agrees with a nod, wipin’ her hands on a bar rag an’ then again on her shorts.
Placin’ her elbow on the bar, the long, lithe woman stretches her back a bit, rolling through the familiar movement with a feline grace as she stares out at the bar an’ collects ‘er thoughts. After a length silence, she looks at Arialla an’ places her chin in her hands. “So fer me, it’s mostly a lot’a frustration an’ feelin’ like we cain’t do anythin’ about it. Y’know, we got demigods comin’ in an’ how can we compete with those powers? Life worked just fine afore anyone came, an’ the majority’a problems we had then, we still got now. ‘Cept now the world is bigger. Woohoo, great, but how does that help us?”
Raza shrugs, shakin’ her head an’ pullin up. “It don’t. We got a Gov’ner who can turn into a dragon, except he didn’t when he should’a an’ has ridiculous drama that’s bleedin’ over into everyone else. An’ look - I know it ain’t everyone.” Gesturin’ to Arialla as an example, she continues. “I don’t know ya, but y’don’t give off the ‘collection powers for fun’ type. I know folks been brought here by the Voice, it ain’t their choice. But I’d really like t’see ‘em try t’live like a normal person. A normal Torcher. Instead’a draggin’ Torchline into whatever’s goin’ on with the Gods.”
Shakin’ her head again, Raza looks out one’a the windows closest to her, at the Ocean an’ the sand, the light breeze comin’ in. “Let us have our way’a life. Trade. Sea. Favors. All this meddlin'... it gonna bring somethin' bad. I can feel it. ”
Arialla nodded as Raza spoke. She'd feared some kind of hatred or prejudice, but no, she felt Raza's concerns were sensible -- even agreed with them. "I see what you mean. It's strange to me too, to suddenly find myself somewhere where the gods are so active, where there's all this trouble with monsters and warring gods and gods-know-what. It must be even harder when you're still at home but these forces are coming to your home, changing it, dragging it into their conflict. And when you have demigods walking around, or people who can turn into dragons ... It's hard to see what space is left for an ordinary person except to do as they say."
When Raza gestured to Arialla, she smiled, but a bit ruefully. "I do serve Safrin, though she has yet to ask much of me. But I still see myself as an ordinary person. I definitely don't expect to change the world, even if I would sometimes like to."
But she nodded again. "My issues are with the Grounds, though, and the Voice -- I like Torchline just fine how it is. And I think you're right to be worried. Gods and their conflicts can be ... quite destructive."
She wasn't sure how much more she could say on that subject, as a loyal priestess -- but her religious involvement had given her an understanding of divinity that leaned towards cynicism. The gods could bless their followers greatly, but they could also bring great harm -- they had no reason to care about the consequences to mortals. If you wanted a normal life, it was probably best to just avoid their notice. But it didn't always matter; you could keep your head down and do everything right, and still have your life destroyed as collateral damage.
A burgeoning respect begins to grow for her customer, and Raza finds herself noddin’ a bit. She has the basic understandin’ of it, if not the whole of it - and that she knows she can’t begrudge an Outlander for. They just don’t know. “Y’dont see many Naturals cozyin’ up t’the Gods the way Outlanders have.” It feels like they know, they remember, and they ain’t eager t’get another war started. Raza picks herself up and sighs, resigned once again.
“I’m just sayin’ that we can’t have a war if people don’t play along, but there’s alot’a powerful Outlanders choosin’ sides an’ makin’ moves. They’re just as much t’blame for whatever’s gonna come as the Gods are. Makes me wonder if it could be done without ‘em bein’ taken in an’ bein’ complicit in thew whole damn thing.” Maybe it’s ignorant. Maybe it’s futile. Maybe the Gods would’a found some other folks t’make their playthings. But it sounds like a good theory in Raza’s head, so she’s stickin’ with it.
An if she wasn’t worked up before, she is now, pushin’ herself back and reachin’ for more clean glasses that Mik brings out. There’s obvious frustration in her movements, the brusqueness of them, the way she isn’t as careful with these glasses as she was the prior ones. It ain’t Arialla’s fault, obviously. In fact, Raza’s doing her best not t’direct it at her customer.
"I wonder sometimes if that's wiser," Arialla commented, rather ruefully. Oh, yes, she offered the gods her devotion -- but she also knew that staying out of their thoughts, out of their line of fire, sometimes made for a longer, healthier life. "I think when you're an Outlander, you come in with all these desires: I want to go home, I want to find my place here, I want this, I want that. And in the Grounds, at least, everyone tells you 'go to the gods.' So you do, because you don't know how else to get what you need -- and you're in this new world, so you don't really have a grasp on the consequences, the full effect of what you're doing."
She paused, realizing she'd said more than she really intended to. "I mean, that's how I felt when I arrived. I would imagine that Naturals -- especially in Torchline, where everyone grew up without the heralds and their hands-on approach -- have a better idea of how to solve their problems without running to the nearest deity."
At the mention of the impending war, Arialla frowned. Oh, she knew something was brewing; she wasn't stupid. But she still had hope that it might not come to all-out war. If it did ... she had effectively chosen her side, pledging herself to Safrin, but she didn't want to actually fight, didn't want to kill the Ascended for the Voice's crimes. And yet what choice would she have, if Safrin ordered her to? "I don't want to see war, but it feels like the gods and demigods do, and the rest of us have no say in the matter. And I don't know much about war, but I know it's not usually the people on top who suffer the most."
Though Arialla could comfort herself with the thought that she was a healer and a priestess, not a warrior -- if war did come, perhaps she could serve Safrin in a different way, not direct combat. But still, she would be contributing to the deaths of people she didn't think deserved to die.
Maybe Arialla really hadn't thought through the consequences of pledging herself to Safrin. The thought had her solemn and more than a little worried, to the point where she barely even noticed Raza's frustration.
Then Raza asked about her gods, and Arialla tried to shake off her concerns. "We had many more gods at home, but they were more distant. We prayed to them all the time, but to get a direct answer was almost unheard of. My god, Apollo, blessed me with ... something I didn't think was possible. But when it came to more mundane things, we never expected the gods to come fix our problems for us. You said a prayer for good fortune and then got to work for yourself."
What Arialla is sayin’ sounds a little apologetic for Raza’s tastes, but she manages to keep a straight face about it, just dryin’ glasses and makin’ eye contact every now and then to show she’s listening as the Outlander goes through her thoughts. It does provoke a little thought, a tiiiiiiny bit’a sympathy for the Outlanders that wasn’t there before.
It must be difficult to be taken from one’s home and put here - even if they are a copy of of their original selves (whatever that means). It doesn’t make this new thing any easier. Not when they still have to live it. As she finishes dryin’ the last glass, Raza sighs. “I don’t even think the demigods do. Ain’t no reason why the Gods can’t go fight their thing in the sky, right? Or wherever it is they go when they ain’t with us.” She remembers Remi and Ronin’s anger and how it varied in its targets - sometimes a person, sometimes a herald, sometimes inward - but the Alchemist had always tried to make things right in the light of day.
That person might not want war and destruction. Now the question is if that person even exists anymore.
She’s more than ready to stop talkin’ about Caido’s deities and focus on Arialla’s old ones, brightening a bit when the topic turns. “Oh? What did he bless you with? Does he have a... special thing he takes care of?”
Arialla suspects Raza of a bit of impatience with her explanation, her rationalization, and that's fair. Nobody made Arialla swear allegiance to Safrin, even if people did tell her to go speak to the goddess. That's a hole that Arialla dug herself, and if it came to war, she'd just have to lie in it.
At Raza's suggestion, Arialla's mouth quirks in a wry smile. "Gods never seem to be able to settle their disputes without dragging mortals into them. Though I've no doubt that if the Old Gods could simply strike the Voice and her followers from the face of Caido, they would."
And then there's Raza's question, which makes Arialla blush, though she finds herself more tempted to confide in Raza than she would have expected. "It's a bit personal, but he, um ... reshaped my body. To look more the way I wanted."
Phrasing it that way makes her sound shallow, Arialla realizes, but she doesn't want to get into the details of her gender with Raza. She probably should have just stopped at "it's personal." Too late now, but she hurried to the next question: "That's not Apollo's area specifically, though I suppose one might view it as a form of medicine."
Without the same dislike of the Voice, Raza can’t say she’d be happy to see the Voice’s followers stricken from the earth, even if it meant the brewing conflict would end. Seems like an extreme reaction. Unnecessary. The kinda thing that ain’t well thought out. Not like reshapin’ a body - which does seem like it would take a lot of thinkin about.
Pullin’ up from puttin’ the glasses away, Raza gives Arialla a good once-over, takin’ note of her appearance, and ends up shrugging. “Sounds like somethin’ Frey would do…” which prompts her next question, but Arialla answers it before she can ask. Medicine? Shaping bodies? It all sounds a bit complicated and unclear - and the Torcher is struggling to connect the dots about this one.
“Aight, so then why Safrin? Medicine and changin’ things like that… seems like a big leap to go from Apollo to Safrin.”
Arialla nodded, though she had her doubts -- from what she'd seen, the Voice's followers seemed a bit more ready to live and let live. If it weren't for the Old Gods attacking them, would they just live in peace? And make more Ascended, and steal more souls for the Voice, Arialla reminded herself. Anyway, beyond the current scope of the conversation.
Instead she tilted her head and took a sip of her slowly-depleting drink, considering the question. "Well, Safrin was recommended to me fairly early. No disrespect to it, but Ludo pretty clearly wasn't the god I wanted to see, and Frey ... "
She laughed a little. "Is it odd if I say that I was intimidated by Frey? This was before they split into two aspects. Not that Safrin can't be intimidating -- it's unwise to take the gods lightly. But Safrin -- I suppose starlight and beauty simply drew me in a way that a more general aspect of nature did not."
“Aye, she’s got that goin’ for her. And it’s hard to resist a beautiful lady, let alone a goddess, I imagine.” With a chuckle and a wink as if to say that Raza personally knows the challenges of saying no to beautiful women. She can’t fault Arialla (and absolutely will not) for her choice, but the Torcher has heard enough stories from those around her to know that the star goddess is as beautiful as she is petty and cruel.
Frey, at least, is single-minded. In a way. Sex is sex. Ain’t no ulterior motives with that one - not even with nature Frey, she imagines. Nature wants to grow. People need to have babies.
“I hope she values you as much as you do her,” is all Raza can say with a wistful expression. She’d hate to see such a thoughtful and well-spoken guest become a casualty in all this nonsense.
Arialla blushed and nodded. "She is beautiful, and ..."
She hesitated, trying to think how to express her feelings: the warm feeling that came from earning the regard not only of a beautiful woman but of a goddess, who had seen centuries of mortals come and go and still, somehow, had time to compliment her.
And then there was Raza's other comment: Arialla shook her head, trying for a smile, though she didn't exactly feel one. But of course Safrin would never value Arialla the way Arialla valued her: that was not the relationship between a goddess and her worshiper. "I would be highly honored if she did."
Sighing, Arialla finished her drink and pushed her stool back from the bar. "I should be going. Thank you for the drinks, and the conversation."
“My pleasure,” Raza replies with a smile and the slightest tilt of her head. “Ain’t had this kinda conversation in awhile - especially durin’ LongNight. It was nice.” Picking up Arialla’s glass, she reaches over to put it in the ‘dirty’ bin and pulls out a damp rag to wipe down the place where she sat. “Come back any time.” She means it, too, else she wouldnt’a said it. Kind platitudes ain’t really her thing.
Then she’s movin’ on, back to the rest’a her guests, and the spot is soon filled by someone else who is far more intoxicated an’ far less genteel than Arialla.
