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!
03-14-2021, 06:31 AM (This post was last modified: 03-14-2021, 06:31 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
as if you were on fire from within
She gasps as he continues a rather relentless attack. One of her palms smacks flat against the side of his head and she pushes her weight into him, which is probably what shoves his face into the sand. "Not. Fair!"
When he does finally try to use this to his advantage and go for the donuts, Aurelia is - quite frankly - a mess. She's unable to react right away, but she pulls it together, mostly out of sheer will.
"Rrgh!" She growls out, though its ferocity is weakened by yet another laugh, "I'm gonna kill you!"
Milo is successful in wiggling away and he gets very close to his goal of reaching the bag, but just before he can grab it, she snags his hand back. In fact, she pulls it around behind his back and leans her weight into him. "I don't think so!" She says, sitting on top of his back. She uses this opportunity to catch her breath.
He barks laughter at her threat, a grin spread wide on his face after he’s spat out the wad of sand in his mouth. “Y’know y’can’t do that!” He chimes back to her, reaching up for the donuts in his mad scramble to reach them from her protection, when she latches onto that arm with a surprising amount of speed and he goes tumbling back down into the sand with her sat right atop him.
He’s half ready to respond with something snarky when she’s tickling him now, and as he’d learned with tickling Aurelia… Well, she’d find his reaction much the same in terms of laughter and writhing, shifting and jostling.
“Uuuuugggghhhh.” He finally grumbles, a huff of air leaving him and spraying sand in its wake. His chest heaves from catching his breath and sweat shines along his exposed skin, as he debates continuing. But eventually, he decides, to give up — wiggling just a bit beneath her. “Fine, guess y’win this one.” He mutters with his cheek pressed against the sand, his voice muffled from it as he tries to prevent more of it from getting into his mouth.
03-15-2021, 02:19 AM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2021, 02:23 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
as if you were on fire from within
Aurelia enjoys this small act of harmless revenge for a few minutes. But she gives in to his struggle sooner than he did with hers, a very merciful act considering she has him right in the palm of her hand. When he admits defeat, Aurelia smiles more gently down at the side of his face that's resting on the sand.
She doesn't let go of her grip on him yet, but it does lessen and allow for more movement on his part. Leaning down against his back, she tucks a kiss in against the side of his sand-speckled cheek.
Then, with a triumphant "Aha!" she clambers off of him and scoops up the bag of donuts. She jogs backward a few paces away, eyes on him as if expecting that he'll give chase.
But she takes pause, noticing the way his hair falls into a neat little mess, how the sun kisses a tan across his skin, the honey color of his eyes as the light shines in. Her grin falters and so do her steps, all notions of gloating in her victory leaving her.
"Aw, Milo. You can't give up now," She dangles the bag towards him with a pleading shift of her expression. For all intents and purposes, she sounds playful, but there's a glow in her own eyes that tells of something else, "you were so close."
She loosens her grip and he huffs a quiet laugh against the brush of a kiss to his cheek, bronze eyes darting to try and see her in his peripheral, though it’s weak given the fact she’s essentially behind him. But then she’s off and he’s hardly got time to try and push himself up before she’s grabbing the donuts and jogs backwards and Milo’s finally gotten to his knees, spitting out a bit more sand and fruitlessly rubs at the side of his face to try and get the sand out.
Then she’s dangling the bag toward him and he peers back at her, squinting in the light. She sounds playful, but there’s something else, something he can’t quite place and doesn’t know where to start with it. So he manages to get up onto his feet, flashing her a soft smile as if he’s placating his defeat. He crosses the distance between them and the outstretched bag of donuts. “Mm well, seems pretty clear yer gonna win.” He offers her with a softer, more playful edge of his smile.
“An’ isn’t it somethin’ about pickin’ yer battles, or whatever all those Outlanders say?” He cocks his head, trying to use it as a bit of a distraction so he might snatch the bag out of her hand.
As far as she can tell, he's completely defeated. A good sport about it in any case, but still defeated. So she relaxes, letting down her guard, and focuses more on the words he says than predicting his next move. "You never know, anything could happen," she shrugs, glancing over him thoughtfully.
Sometimes a fight doesn't come down to who's stronger or faster or more skilled. Sometimes it's pure luck of the dice. But she doesn't need to mentor him, necessarily, considering he doesn't have a particular interest. If he asked, maybe it'd be different. She could teach him a bit more; add to his defenses - should he ever need them.
Ideally they wouldn't ever need to fight and they could carve out a peaceful oceanside life. Nothing's ever that simple, but it is a nice image and she settles on it for a moment, wondering if a real future with him is attainable. If she'd want that. If they both would. "Hm" is all the evidence she gives of her churning thoughts.
That fades when the bag of donuts gets swiped at an opportune moment. She inclines her chin towards him and crosses her arms, eyes never leaving his face. The donuts are thus relinquished and he can keep them for all she cares.
"Well I don't know what those other outlanders say, but I do think you're pretty clever." She murmurs humorously and reaches out to give him a little poke in the ribs. Then her hand smooths over his waist and she pulls him closer, looking up at him, "Thank you for your help," she leans in to kiss his lips lightly, already hoping to make up for tossing him into the sand, "I appreciate you." She says this more lovingly than is initially intended to sound because she means it. "But..." she clears her throat and pulls back a little, "we can stop there, unless you want to keep going."
A truer statement couldn’t ever have been said, to be honest, when it comes to Caido and the like. He hardly knows what’s going to happen next – already agreeing to go on a trip with the Ark, so much more adventuring than his bones and mind were ready for. But he’d decided it for her, to push away the fear and anxieties that accompany the idea of the unknown for stories and a life with her.
But he doesn’t say any of that, too focused on the quick little move he attempts to make – barking out an “AHA!” Soon as he has the bag of donuts in his hand. He hoists them as if they were a trophy, faltering immediately when she pokes him in the ribs and he snickers. “Ah, well, ‘m good at sayin’ some’ve the stuff I’ve heard. ‘side from that tho ‘m pretty sure I got a bag a rocks up there.” He points to his temple with an amused grin.
But she pulls him in and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, peering down at her with a softer grin. “I ‘preciate y’too.” He murmurs into the soft kiss, pulling away and tilting his head when she clears her throat. “Mm I think now’s a good time t’eat these poor victims ‘n drink some water, yeah?” He chuckles with it, walking backwards over the sand toward where he’d discarded his bag, tugging her along with him, the bag of donuts resting against her shoulder.
03-16-2021, 05:13 AM (This post was last modified: 03-16-2021, 05:16 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
as if you were on fire from within
Aurelia scoffs in disbelief. His 'bag of rocks' statement warrants a second jab at his ribs, this one a little harder than the last. "Hey, don't talk about yourself like that," she argues before pulling him in for a kiss that makes her forget she's offended on his behalf. His lips never fail to clear her mind, to wipe the slate clean.
She pretends him returning the sentiment isn't a big deal, blinking away and clearing her throat. It's up to him what he wants to do now, considering he so graciously accepted her requests and did.. all of this for her. He tugs her along but, he needn't tug very hard because her feet are already kicking through the sand after him.
She grabs the donuts and plunks herself down into a spot by his bag. Though, for some reason, she doesn't feel very hungry at the moment. Something churns in the back of her mind as she holds a still-warm donut out towards him.
"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" She asks, brows narrowing as her humor dissipates. It would imply this is a more serious question, especially with the way her expression falls into deep thought. Probably not the best way to go about it, but.. well, Aurelia's not great at this sort of thing. "I've been thinking about a lot lately.."
In the grand scheme of things, perhaps they haven't truly been together for a long, long time. But seasons have passed, she's a year older, Longheat feels right around the corner, they've stayed strong through things that could have easily broken a weaker couple, and it leaves her wondering about the future. That wonder also leaves her with a nervous pit in her stomach.
"Did you see us staying together this long?" She peers up at him warily, trying to gauge his response.
She jabs his ribs again and he puffs out the air he’d kept in his lungs with it, hearing her argument for what it is and being unable to respond – because their lips meet and Milo’s essentially useless when it comes to thinking of anything else but her when they’re like this, let alone an argument. So he lets it die, turning instead to keep his arms wrapped around her and walking backwards back toward his pack before they part and she takes a seat nearby it. Milo plops down beside it and pulls it over into his lap, drawing out the water he’d brought and the cups that had a little bit of water within them that needed to be shaken out.
He does this, while she speaks and his gaze slips up to her as his red brows furrow in concern. “Sure.” They’d always be there for Aurelia to speak with, something that he’d always strive to give her all of his attention wherever he could. So he finishes shaking out the glasses, ensuring there isn’t any salt water left behind, before he’s popping open the jug of water he’d brought and pours a decent amount into a glass for her, to trade for the warm donut she hands him.
He takes a bite as the question is fully aired and his brows remain pinched together as he chews the donut. Swallowing it down, he nods his head. “I dunno what y’mean about this long but… That first night when we were tog’ther, I knew y’were different than everyone else I’ve been with.” He says softly, offering a gentle smile her way. “’n whether ‘r not it was somethin’ that lasted forever ‘r a week, I didn’t… I don’t care. I jus’ wanna be with you fer however long ya want me t'be.” To this, Milo shrugs, takes another bite of his donut and waits to see what her response is.
Sure. He'd be a mess, a wreck if something happened to them but... He'd manage. He always did.
She takes the water, much more interested in that than the doughnuts at this particular moment - if he can believe that. She takes a moment, though, to ask him her question. It hardly even tickles the surface of the topic she wants to broach, though, so she's still a bit distracted even as she listens to him. She drinks the water to keep herself more present, because she does still want to hear his answer.
He smiles softly at her, telling her she's different from everyone else, and she can't help the humbling effect it has. Her brows sink downward, her thoughts feeling much more strangled even than before. Somehow. Even though it's probably the best answer he could've given her.
Except for the fact that he says he didn't and doesn't care. It earns him a sharpened look, guarded, almost hurt, if she'd allow that to show through. But it's soothed because she is listening and what he says in conclusion is more than she could ever ask of him. It creates a sinking feeling in her chest, but the good kind. The kind that makes her want to hug him and hold on tight.
"Always," she blurts out and then draws her gaze away, because now she's self-conscious, but she still wants - more than anything - to say, "I'll always want you, Milo. No matter what, or who, or when... it's always gonna be you."
Now that she's not looking directly at him, now that she's watching the roll of the tide and the ripples of wind across distant waves, she remembers that they're so small in comparison to the great wide world around them. They can't stay on this island of two forever, hidden away from whatever might try and tear everything apart. In fact, that's why they're here now. Because she wants to prevent that from happening, however she can.
"But what if something happens to me?" She asks, voice quiet. "You're not a fighter, but I am. I always will be," she glances at him from the corner of her eye because she thinks that may not be what he wants to hear, but it is the truth.
"What if I do something stupid and I die, and I leave you to pick up the pieces all by yourself?" Something she's all too familiar with, and wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. If she really cares about Milo, she should save him the pain... "Is that worth it to you? All the pain and emptiness? I don't wanna do that to you, you deserve someone who... who's better. Who's not-"
me
It's something you might hear a sad drunk say to their best friend in a tangent about how they're not good enough for the one they love. Only, she's sober as a fucking snail and she's saying it straight to his face. She's starting to feel her words, her thoughts, her feelings spiral at a steep decline. And she doesn't really mean these things, but... at the same time, she does.
She sucks in a breath to say more, but it only shakes out in a ragged sigh. She wishes the tide would swallow her up right about now.
So instead, Milo watches her, swallows the donut down hard and focuses on the relief that her words try to swell in his chest. But something falls flat, the words not quite meeting him squarely as they should, not quite soothing his rough edges as he’d hoped. She stares out into the ocean and Milo finishes the donut before wiping off his hands and perhaps a smidge anxiously begins to spin the bracelet she’d made him on his wrist.
’But what if something happens to me?’ So what if it did? She was a fighter and it was something he’d have to come to terms with – something he had come to terms with, he thinks, before she curveballs him again.
If she dies, he’s left alone again, to pick up the pieces. But deserving someone else? Deserving more? No. No, that wouldn’t do.
His head snaps up to her, red brows pinched together as he swallows hard. “I don’… I don’ want anyone else, ‘Relia.” He admits quietly, shaking his head and trying to let his frustration swallow up within him to hide away. “What’d I do wrong?” He asks instead, peering out into the water as she had done, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong to have her travel down this path. “Why’s it happenin’ now? Y’tell me ‘bout yer past ‘n yeah it’s hard t’get over ‘n understand fer me but ‘m tryin’.” He draws in a sharp breath, jaw set tight. “’n then y’go an’ kiss Maeve ‘n now this?” He finally tears his gaze back to her.
“Do you want this? ‘r is ‘always’ jus’ what yer sayin’ t’make yerself feel better?”
She doesn't look at him, but she still feels the snap of his gaze as he turns to look at her. Her teeth edge over her bottom lip nervously. She wishes she could bite back the words, but she can't and it's all going bad to worse. The question he asks amidst it all drives a crack through her heart. He hadn't done anything wrong.
But before she can try to respond, he asks why it's happening now, and suddenly with each word he says she feels smaller and smaller. Like she's more and more right.
She doesn't know how to respond to most of it, how to defend herself or make things better. So she simply doesn't speak, letting her jaw roll with the waves and her mind burn with deeply-wounded anger. He'd done nothing wrong, the fucking idiot, this was about her being wrong for him, and suddenly she feels like he's said enough to convince her that... she's right in that. Maeve isn't even close to being on her mind at this point, and the mention of her brings up an irate scoff.
"It's not about Maeve," she snaps, "or my past," and those words come out more choked than the others. But she doesn't like to let people see that, so she turns away and onto her feet. She can't find the proper words, so she simply simmers in her frustration and pain with her arms crossed, barely looking at him.
Her brows arch as he asks her if she wants this. "Of course I fucking want it, you idiot!" Her fingers curl around her skin, "I don't tell myself anything to make me feel better." But there's a darker edge to her words that falls short of anger and lends itself to pain, and that's simply that they're true. "Fuckin' nothing. You say it's hard for you to understand, but if it's hard for you how do you think it is for me!? You think I don't know? I don't know that it's fucked up and it hurts and it ain't right and it's me! Or that my whole entire existence is just too much for you? I'm not right for you," her eyes have a glassy sheen to them as that last part slips out, but her lips press into a tight line if only to keep her from breaking. As she gathers herself together, she draws backwards until her heels hit the cold water. "And you think I tell myself shit just to feel better," her hand runs over her chin, tense stress coiling the muscles in her shoulders, "No, I want you, Milo, but I don't think I should," her head shakes, "we'll just end up hurt. Clearly."
She stands and he doesn’t move, watching her as she cracks – feeling so far away but he doesn’t understand what is happening. He chews on his cheek, on his lip, watching her and letting her words snap and crash around them as harsh as the waves. “Then what’s it ‘bout?” He asks, though his voice is quiet and restrained. But she answers him, roundaboutly, and it starts to hit – but he’s already ruined it.
She can say it isn’t his fault all she wants, but Milo will always point the wrongs to himself. Because he wasn’t enough, or… Too much in her eyes, despite the things he’d done, the life he led kept secret even from his own family. His hands find the sun scorched sand, feeling the burn of it in his palms. “What makes it wrong, ‘Relia? The fact ‘m not as ‘xperienced as y’are? ‘m not as…” He doesn’t know how to quite word the idea of ‘traumatized in this instance, so he trails off with a shake of his head, a sharpness to his stare as it finds the sand and the water, pointedly not looking at her.
“I don’ get it.” He tries instead, finally letting his gaze lift, finally pulling himself to his feet as sand falls off of him and he peers back at her near the water. “I don’ mind th’gettin’ hurt bit ‘cause I still get you.” And maybe that makes him selfish in a way, but he wipes the sand from his hands, before he’s running a hand through his fire red hair. “So… What. That’s all? All this is t’ya?” Is that all they are to one another? “Do y’need a break?” The question comes out with less of an accent than usual, something sharp and sudden coursing through him as his gaze lifts to Aurelia.
Is this what she wanted? “'r are we over?” Is this something that can be fixed?
Experiences are things Aurelia wouldn't wish on Milo, not the sort that they're talking about anyway. She has an idea of what he's trying to say, but she's too hurt to get angry at it now, shaking her head instead. "It's not your fault," she mumbles into the back of her hand as it presses against her mouth. It's not, because he couldn't possibly control how her or his life had gone up until now.
She knows this isn't his fault. It's hers, really. Why would she do this to him, let alone herself, if she knew in the end that it wouldn't last? Couldn't last. That she couldn't let it go on because one of them would end up dead eventually, dead or gone.
Everything that happened to Nate and Sunjata, with the trial and thinking he was gone, it all brought up these concerns and doubts for her. Nate might call her a hypocrite for what she's saying now, and she feels guilty for that. She feels that she's not being true to herself, like she's punishing herself and Milo. She doesn't know what's more selfish at this point.
It's not all it is to her, that's not all he is to her. She wants to tell him he's so much more, that he's everything, that if he really wanted her to stop seeing Maeve she would, that if he asked her to stop fighting she would, that if he asked her anything... but the words fall apart before a single syllable of them can part her lips.
She just needs to rip it off like a bandaid. Just say yes. Say yes. Say yes and leave. But deep down, she still hasn't asked him what she wants to know. Needs to know.
"Why me? Why am I different? You should have someone that won't carry the kind of baggage I do. Isn't that what you'd want? You really think you could stay with me? Really?" Her gaze wavers up at him now, fragmented and torn and oh so mixed up. "I don't think I could handle losing someone again, after..." after everything she's gone through, the family lost, an entire life down the drain. For all that she's experienced, she's so new to this. "We can't guarantee anything, Milo, how am I supposed to know I won't have to go through that again with you? Or that I won't put you through it? I know you think you'll be fine but... I already feel like I couldn't stand it-" a strangled breath cuts her off and she stifles it as best she can.
The truth is that she's as confused as he is, her gaze lowering again, but she's rooted to the spot.
It sure feels like it’s his fault. It sure feels like he’s the one that’s brought all of these troubles to Aurelia with his closeness, with his attachment. But he swallows it down, standing as he is now, watching her with his red brows pinched together in worry and anxiety, letting it eat away at him.
Why is she different? Why her? Milo nibbles on the inside of his lower lip, letting her finish her question, hearing her strangled breath and how it hurts him to hear it and be unable to make it better. He doesn’t know how, doesn’t know whether she wants him to stay or to leave, and he’s hopeless in his attempts to keep his lips shut for much longer.
“Why would I want ‘nyone else?” He asks instead, shaking his head as he stares at her. “Y’make me better, ‘Relia.” And maybe that’s a crutch, so he can focus on bigger problems than the ones he has that aren’t so big in comparison. And as for losing people? He doesn’t know what it’s like. Nobody close to him, at least. His grandparents had died when he was young, he could hardly remember them. And he was a runner, he didn’t get involved with all those dangerous treks the Ark took.
He had stayed completely safe in his bubble. He had remained a statue among it all. “I think… I think maybe we… Maybe we should take a break.” He purses his lips, stares at the sand. “’til y’can decide whether it’s ‘nough fer y’to come t’terms with us – with me.” Death was inevitable, he knew this. But he hadn’t been touched by it, not as Aurelia had. “I want ya t’be able t’look at me ‘n not think ‘bout me leavin’ you. That’s not what I see when I see ya.” And maybe then… Maybe then they could get it to work.
