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!
04-01-2021, 09:24 AM (This post was last modified: 04-01-2021, 09:25 AM by Henry.)
HENRY
Aisha's hands may be calloused, may be battered by years of cutting edges and fierce battles, but they feel gentle now - and that's all that matters. His brows relax involuntarily at her touch and his chin shakes into her hands as she wipes his tears. He lets out an audible sob, grimacing. She manages to breach through whatever veneer of a wall he's been trying to hold up against her, gods know why.
He tries to stop crying, tries to be strong, tries to lean on her words and her comforting hands at his jaw, to get through this, but he just... can't. They're no longer quieted tears but muffled hiccups filled with emotion and regret and the thought of I can't do this.
"I should've stopped it, Aisha-" he argues stubbornly, "The Ascended- they didn't want outside help, they wanted us all to leave so they could fight! My parents- they wouldn't leave the farm- and-" now look at them. He shudders and pulls away to look away, because he can't bring himself to meet her eyes. "The last time I saw them, they were... they were so upset... that I wanted to leave. I had to, Aisha, but... I... I wish I died with them," he chokes through another sob, sounding and feeling absolutely wretched.
wherever you run, you see all you leave behind you lies inside anyone you open
all the skeletons you hide show me yours and i'll show you mine
With her hands upon him, fingers tracing his skin, Aisha can feel every sob, every breath that made it's way past his lips after a choking inhale. She felt a frown pull at her lips once more, her jaw clenched and she almost wanted to move away, being so close to his breaking heart was difficult, weathering. Of course she did not, she stayed and listened as he spoke the words that she'd hoped he would not.
His claim wounded her, and with the pang of sadness she felt, there was anger as well. That was their fault then, she thought but didn't say because she knew it was cruel. The dead would never know and neither would he. They should've left too, but people seldom do what they're told. How could he say that? maybe he felt it, but even that was too frightening to think. "No Henry," she answered quickly, returning to a calmer tone, "it's not your fault. It's not."
She didn't know when her hands had begun to shake, but they did as she reached up to touch his hair, shift it into place and watch it shimmer with the change of light. How precious he was, how desperately she wanted to protect him from this.
04-12-2021, 08:13 PM (This post was last modified: 04-12-2021, 08:13 PM by Henry.)
HENRY
He's too awash with his own pain and anger, his own frustrating failures, never being able to get things quite right. Never. So well-intentioned, his father had always scolded him for it. Intentions mean nothing when, in the end... well, just take a look around.
She tells him that it isn't, it isn't his fault, and he shakes with the release of a heavier, reluctant sob. His head shakes and his eyes squeeze shut, and he wants to argue. He wants to tell her over and over again that he's a failure, that this was his fault, that he could've and should've done something. But he can't, he can't tell her that because it wouldn't bring them back. It wouldn't make any of this right. There's nothing that can. They're gone and there's nothing.
Henry leans into her, grabbing her with hands that need her strength so desperately that he almost claws at her. "I can't be here anymore, Aisha," it's almost urgent, but the urgency, the anxiety is smothered in a thick coat of grief.
wherever you run, you see all you leave behind you lies inside anyone you open
all the skeletons you hide show me yours and i'll show you mine
Henry leaned in further and Aisha was there, body built to hold and shelter, to protect with steel equally as with warm embraces. She claimed that side of herself now, accepting however much weight he needed to put on her.
She nodded at his urgent remark, he needed to leave. That could be agreed on, this place was no longer a home but a tomb of ash and bone. There was nothing for them here, not while the world would begin to blossom and rebuild around them. "Let's go Henry," she said, no further questions asked, affirming and calm. She'd lead him away, taking his hand in her own and holding tight.
They'd end up by a stream in the woodlands, where the first dandelions of spring waved through. Here any further tears could be washed away into the cool waters, returned to the earth and life, rather than to desolation. Here they could breathe, rather than choke on soot. Here Aisha would continue to hold Henry tight, until he wanted her near him no longer. Whenever that may be.