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 house is a stranger now, smoke choked and hollow. Unfamiliar. Impersonal. Nate haunts the rooms, the ocean views, the rooms and decor that had been home so recently. He wants to crumble apart, and he wants, selfishly, everything to come along with him.
He wants the world to be ending, as rocked as he is by this sense of loss, by this weightless, endless sense of pain. He wants to fall, helpless and sobbing, against the floor and force all of this out like a sliver, like a bad dream. He can’t. He can’t do any of it.
He simply creeps from room to room, looking but not for some anchor, for his pilot light. The kittens follow along at his heels, and Pemota distant behind them, even her light dimmed (or perhaps that’s just him as well, out of her reach). ”Mel?” His voice is soft, crackly like dry wood on fire, some internal damage still left in a state of disrepair. It’s not even clear if Nate actually sees her at first, or if he’s simply croaked the same questioning word into every space he’s entered.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Melita, for her part, didn’t know what to do.
Follow the wakes of storms, and the beat of the waves, press and wind into the ocean until she found those mercurial outlets and tempestuous eaves? Stare into the expanse of the house, into the collected filaments of burnt edges and hollowed ramparts? Reflect upon what had been built, and torn apart so easily?
Or did she survey the emotions under all those scars – to the family beaten and bludgeoned, and her incapable of doing anything?
She avoided the angles of the cinders and embers, seeking some sort of respite and refuge in the comfort of her room, in the shield and shelter, eyes towards the window. If she stared out over the clifftops, over the tides and currents, long enough – would anything matter?
A voice, soft and unlike its usual form, called toward her, and she swung her head. Her fingers clasped together, before reaching for him; uncertain if he wanted a hug, comfort, solidarity, or nothing in between. “How are you feeling?” was a dulcet whisper, uncertain how else to break into the void.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
Now that he's actually found Melita, Nate doesn't know what to do. He looks apologetic, as much as he looks anything. The kittens get the chance to catch up with him, playing in the inch or so of fabric that pools around his ankles, the pants he's wearing just a little too tall for him.
If it's any comfort at all, Nate himself isn't too sure what he wants, only just stopping himself from pulling away from the contact, before leaning in to wrap Melita up in a hug instead. His arms tremble around her, his hands closing in tight fists in her clothes. Silence stretches from him, feeling almost panicked, almost helpless as he struggles for an answer. "I don't know." He manages to settle on, a huff following it. "I... bad?" He tries next, shaking his head as if that will make something sensible fall from his lips. "I wish I could still... block it out, somehow."
His arms wrap around her a little tighter, shaking more now, something that he refuses to let out clawing at him, locked in the cage of his ribs and his throat. "I'm sorry." Nate's voice cracks on the words, his jaw snapping shut so tightly that his teeth click.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Her eyes went to the kittens first; little things rescued multiple times now. Then the gilded gaze flickered back up to him, alive but not well, and she tucked the sigh residing in her chest away. She didn’t know what else to do.
There was no hesitation as she wrapped her arms around him though, aiming to keep him together in the trembling notions, in the pain and agony, in the throes of calamity he’d been forced to reside within. His words were understandable nuances, another form of torture Shaju had inflicted upon him for who knew how long. Until he recovered? Until he forgot?
But that was the thing – who could pretend it didn’t happen?
They’d all seen the muzzle. They’d all seen the results.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she murmured, veracious and vehement. Melita didn’t let go, strong and enduring and formidable for both of them, wishing she could take it all away. She couldn’t, and it was there to stay for some time, some hours, some eons. But she was there, physical and tangible, until whenever. “Do you want something to drink?”
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
As much as Nate wants to argue - he has a lifetime of things to be sorry for, just in the last two weeks - he can’t summon the energy for it, can’t find any of the fire that normally lives in his chest. He wonders absently what it is specifically that snuffed it out. He knows, just as absently, that it’s in the same place his sun is.
”Yes, fuck.” A thoughtless answer that Nate immediately cringes from, ashamed of how easily he wants to crumble and spiral. It’s so easy to sink into, would be easier still with two catalyst of alcohol that he craves, that sits so cruelly out of his reach. Still, there’s no harm in trying, is there?
Nate doesn’t love right away, makes absolutely no effort to pull away from Melita. If anything, he presses in closer, his arms growing a touch tighter. ”Will you uh... do you want to come with me?” Asking for help is not a skill he’s cultivated, but he tries, with his tone, with the way he still can’t look at her, even when he pulls away.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
She hadn’t meant alcohol, maybe water for his parched throat, to coat down the ebb and flow of whatever pain marred the senses. Nor had she meant to leave him, merely maneuver down the railings and stairs, and along to the kitchen, where she could snag at what was necessary.
But the plea was there, and she wouldn’t deny him. A quick nod, and she was a support beam, a motion in the waves, in the currents, in the house that still remained after fires and mobs, rebellions and screams. Gingerly, carefully, either with hands or shoulders, she meant to ramble with him at her side, a little hum under her breath to stave off whatever agony or apprehension bubbled up, threatened to burst.
Melita paid no heed to the charred bits, because she’d been amongst the smoke and fire, crawling on floors trying to snag at companions and kittens alike. The hollowed sectors didn’t bother her – not as much as everything else surfacing. “What would you like?” By way of preferences, as they neared faucets and containers.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
Melita is practical, in a way everyone seems to be around him right now, and where it would normally irritate him, with her it simply makes Nate feel appreciated. Part of the family he’d dreamed of, growing up. The thought brings with it trembling, a fist clenching tightly where it’s wrapped around her shoulders, fresh pin bubbling up, an endless spring that he keeps tapping into accidentally.
They pass through evidence, evidence!, of struggles he hadn’t been around for, wounds that had been festering for longer than he could believe, and he wonders if maybe they could have been some way to stop it. If there was some place he could have done better, where he could have been paying more attention. It does nothing to help the rising waters of panic and guilt, things that he still desperately tries to bite back and hide.
Nate has to be okay. He doesn’t know how to be anything else, not really.
Such terminal thoughts are brushed away by the question, Nate blinking with surprise to find that he doesn’t even remember the short, painful walk. ”I... don’t know.” Making a choice is the last thing he wants to do, when his old comfort is so far off the table. ”...water?” He questions, like he’s not sure what they have.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Maybe it hadn’t mattered and they wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it anyway. Maybe they’d all been sitting ducks in one way or another, heads in the sand or turned the opposite way. Maybe everything had been played and plagued to perfection, in onslaughts of terror and torment. Maybe they were just doomed to repeat lines of variations – disasters and ruins.
But Melita wouldn’t.
Seditious to a fault, the youth refused to give up and wallow and sink into the cindered ground or the charred earth.
Settling him for a moment into a chair, the youth adhered to her minimal task with swiftness, grabbing hold of a glass, filling it with the cool liquid, before returning to his side. There and then, at the very least, he’d be able to rid himself of some debacle, small and minute as it was. She extended it in offering, withholding her sigh, her own anger at the way the world had tilted again.
And she wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know where to go. Something to alleviate, to mend, to soothe. But the honeybee had never been her mother or her sister, prone to compassion and gentleness – she’d been the embers and scorch marks. “Here,” she hastened instead, breaking into the silence.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
The chair is a nice touch, something Nate wouldn’t have bothered with just for himself. It’s not like he’s actually tired, no matter how it drags on his mind. Mismatched eyes follow Melita as she steps around the kitchen, filling a glass and handing it off to him to be swallowed down in a single breathless gulp. Maybe it’s simply a placebo, but it does soothe some part of him, the ache in his throat dissipating if only a little.
Once again, Nate’s arm comes out, the empty glass clutched in his free hand while he pulls the honeybee girl into a one armed hug. He’s tall enough that he can very nearly rest his head on her shoulder, even sitting down as he is. ”Thank you Mel.” The words are as sincere as they are quiet, Nate’s voice less of a crackle and more of a hiss.
It’s not fair to put something like this on her, when she’s mourning as well, but Nate can’t stop himself, not really. A bubble of something trying to be laughter leaves him, sharp and choppy and utterly unnatural before Nate gets the nerve to speak again. ”The fuck do I do now?”
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Pulled back into his arms, she wasn’t certain who needed it more, but she remained, as she always had. Fire and embers, soot and flames, little pieces of cinders and kindling waiting to be ignited. And she could be compassionate, tender, and warm, but not like her mother, not like her sister, healers and radiance from another time, another world. The youth was every bit as lost here, with nothing and no one to fight, to engage, to skirmish, to promise bloodshed towards. Sunjata had already taken care of that. The vengeance taken and sought, but the rest of it seemed unfulfilled.
Maybe it just hadn’t been enough, for the amount of wreckage and damage done.
“You’re welcome.” But his inquiry left her wondering, left her pondering, brows furrowing slightly at the indication of movements onward, forward. Assuaging, mending, finding ways to no longer be broken had seemed like good notions, but far more difficult to achieve in theory. And sometimes time was all one could have for days like these, for evenings where the horrors stretched seemingly into oblivion. That they would fade, eventually.
So instead, she inclined her head until it rested against his, her voice quiet. “What do you want to do?”
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
For a blessed breath, this feels almost normal. Like it could be any other day, like he isn’t sitting in the chair slowly crumbling apart. Like Sunjata will come home at some point. Like he hasn’t just lived through the worst hell he could imagine. Nate’s arm squeezes tighter, a sigh shuddering out of him.
He doesn’t want to answer the question thats posed back to him. Nate’s afraid of opening his mouth and having nothing at all come out. More afraid of opening his mouth and having only his darkest thoughts pour out. It’s just as effective to shrug, and shake his head, his eyes locked on a particularly interesting loose thread hanging off his nieces shirt.
”What are you going to do?” They’re just trading questions, Nate’s voice small but curious. He’s looking for suggestions as much as he’s looking for anything.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Melita’s certainty, obstinance, and wild, unhindered tenacity, carved and curved into its indulgences. Sunjata would return, wander in from the tide and currents, and come back to Nate. Start to mend, start to build, start to hasten and cobble together other factions and notions, repair the damage done to reputations, and endure whatever else came their way. How she couldn’t quite fathom, given the latest all-consuming drama, but at least for this part, it was over.
Then there was the recovery. The healing.
Her eyes flickered over her uncle’s, narrowing slightly at his avoidance and deflection, but understanding it too. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he did, and simply couldn’t say. Maybe the unknown was too grand, too great, too surreal, right now, to bother with.
But she wouldn’t be able to supply suggestions either – her life was her own. She’d never really found a way to avoid the discretions of the hellhole she’d once hailed from (save for those memories lost to Ludo – and she wouldn’t recall the action anyway), save for time. Save for space. Save for growth and stubbornness, a wall of forged fire and upheaval. Show them she yearned to say to him – but uncertain who the audience would be. The world? Torchline? Those who doubted or dismayed?
So instead, she leant into what she knew, what clambered around her soul. “I’m going to help prepare the Ark and get ready for monsoons, explore, and then sail with the crew.”
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
Nate does what he can to avoid Melita’s gaze, until the last second, their eyes meeting properly for a breath. Long enough to see the turmoil in the ascended, the yawning void that he doesn’t know how to fill. Perhaps it can’t be filled again.
It’s a distraction, even more than it’s the answer to his question, Nate sitting up and nodding. ”You’ll be safe, right? I don’t,” his voice and his jaw both waver, his eyes growing distant, ”don’t want to have to deck him again.’” There’s less humour in it than he means, but it’s still better than anything else he’s managed to muster.
Another long pause, of thought this time. The back and forth that had been so easily dealt before fades, leaving him a second alone with his thoughts. A second too long, perhaps, judging by the way he strives to break the silence. ”I think I... might check in on the uh... the clinic. I don’t really know who’s,” his hand gestures, words yet again failing him, ”y’know. Since Vai was... yea.”
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
A sad smile flared along her mouth, uncertain what else to do for him. There were lines of exhaustion and turmoil and everything reaching and bridging into one, and her arms simply went out, in case he wanted shelter and strength again. An offering, of her eternal perseverance, fortitude, and might, where she refused to bend against the strain. A promise of sorts followed, a conviction, an oath, a vow – the same she’d bestowed to Sunjata. “I can take care of myself.” One less worry for Nate, one less potential trial – though she did hasten a laugh as she wrapped her arms around him again, if he allowed her, intending to pull him into the crook of her shoulder.
She really couldn’t care less if Jack was decked again; he’d deserve it, for one reason or another. “I got a charm too, to ward off the ghost whales. Or try, for a little while at least.” To conquer old foes, or reopen the sails once more, high-tailing it back home – more deadened, loosened ends.
And then she listened again, to his choices, to his options, to the way Vai had been mauled – and Melita thought that she should’ve gone and checked on the woman too, but after everything it’d been too much and too soon and then the house had been on fire –
“That sounds like a great idea,” she murmured instead – because it was a starting point.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
