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!
Things are never as simple as they should be, are they? Looking at Aurelia from across the table, Wessex shakes her head slightly and exhales, “Well… fuck.” Not wanting to seem like she’s pitying the woman, she takes a sip of her drink and stares into the quickly diminishing bit of whiskey and tries to figure out what to say next.
Sometimes nothing is the best answer. Unfortunately that isn’t what the demigod goes with, because she’s been really trying lately to be better at being comforting and understanding emotions. And this conversation seems more low-risk than some others. “Why don’t you think it’s good? I was gonna say that as long as you have hope…” shrugging, she gestures vaguely to beyond the Kraai’s walls, “We’ve had folks disappear and reappear - hell, even the dead are coming back to life. Did your old world have gods that could do that? Or… people?”
Whether or not the Voice could do something like that is far beyond her demigod’s ken. Again, she exhales, puffing out her cheeks under the weight of the question. “I... don’t know. She’s always said that with time, anything might be possible, but I really don’t know how the portals work. If they’re intentional or random. She’s always insinuated that the people brought here were brought for a purpose, so it can’t hurt to ask.”
Maybe Wessex would learn something new about the portals too, if she went with Aurelia.
Aurelia shifts slightly, at the notion of 'hope'. "Of course I have hope," she says defensively, but whatever aggravation Wessex might have conjured diminishes into reluctant admittance, "but it feels naive... There was magic in my world, yes. With it, a lot was possible. Even casting me out of my own existence," she bites back more bitter edges and sighs, "but it wasn't appreciated, to say the least. Long story short - magic was outlawed because of a catastrophic war, long before my time. My family and I never got involved with it. Or at least, I didn't until I came here. Not of my own accord, necessarily, but things here work... differently." Which is a given, though she does feel a need to emphasize that. "I've come to accept a lot of things I never thought I could." A faint smile shimmers through the depression of their conversation, though it's soon gone.
Wessex's puff of breath is all Aurelia needs in answer. The explanation isn't ignored, of course, but she can't help regretting to ask already. Even if Wessex seems to think it's worth a shot. It is, but Aurelia is afraid of what the answer might mean for herself. She's accepted a lot, yes, but would she be able to accept a definitive 'no' to the possibility of her sisters ever arriving here? She's unsure.
"If there's a reason the Voice brought me here, I still don't know what that is," she shifts, almost uncomfortably, half-grimacing, "I've also... sort of put myself in Safrin's corner recently. Don't know if I should go mixing myself up between the Old and New Gods, considering... the tension between them." She eyes Wessex then, silently wondering how the demigod of the Voice is dealing with those things. Putting that question to words is more difficult, however, considering she feels like an outsider looking in.
The demigod knows well the feeling of naievete and nods in understanding. “Hope is both a fragile and strong thing,” she murmurs - just like people. Like Aurelia and herself, bleeding at the slightest bit of sharp pressure, but ultimately resilient and possessing a strong core. Or so she thinks, the more she learns about the Outlander and the world she’s come from.
“Gods, but if that ain’t the truth,” Wessex chuckles, knowing that she, too, has come to accept many, many things she didn’t think possible. “It doesn’t get any easier as you get older.”
Especially when what looks like a budding warmth has to be quelled by Safrin. Wessex tries not to visibly tense at the reveal, tries not to begin to think ill of Aurelia. But there is a fierce flash of anger at both the herald (for stealing her) and Aurelia (for being so stupid as to fall under her spell), that she can only follow it up with what she hopes is a neutral-sounding “Ah. Safrin is… compelling.” Manipulative, is what she means, but it would be unwise to say that right now.
“How did she feel about your magic?”
These are the times when Wessex both wishes she could get drunk and is glad she can't, because there are a few choice things she might say about Safrin if her tongue were looser, and she imagines that might ruin a useful friendship with the herald's her newest devotee.
Aurelia does notice a shift in Wessex's demeanor, and she's half-expectant of it. Being loyal to the Voice, she must have an innate - or learned through experience - disdain of the Old Gods. She wants to apologize, but she's not sure what for, if she's honest. It's not as if making that choice was truly right or wrong. It's personal, and Aurelia has no inclination to go back on it, not as things stand. So no apology is crafted to soothe the offense she's caused.
"Safrin represents life, and that was all I needed," she begins, "it wasn't her that tried to compel me. It was.. the other way around. The Old Gods don't like Abandoned, I knew that, everyone warned me about it. But I went anyway, and I was no exception to that rule. At first she made me feel.. small and insignificant. Like I was a fool. But for all the things I'd done in my past, I think it was.. deserved, in a way," she nods, frowning, "regardless of if that's why she did it, or if it was simply because of my magic. But I asked for a chance, and she gave it. That's enough for me."
Shifting, she looks down, "I know things are.. not right between the Old Gods and the Ascended. I didn't go to her to take a side," she glances back up pointedly, "I did it in the hopes that I could... protect other people, with her help," she sighs, adding unhopefully, "and maybe change things for the better."
To her credit, Wessex is learning the virtues of biting her tongue; though it does not figuratively bleed, the Wraith wishes she had known Aurelia earlier, that she might have tried to steer her towards the Voice. Despite how manipulative that sounds -
She drains the rest of the glass, which is really nothing more than a small sip, and makes it obvious that she is listening and doing her best not to judge. There is irony in the Outlander thinking Safrin represents life, for all the death she’s caused and wrought and will bring upon Wessex’s people. And the small, insignificance is no surprise either, because Gods forbid an Abandoned ever be recognized for the power they wield.
“Well…” Wessex exhales, once Aurelia tries to make her position clear. “I’m glad to hear that. I don’t think you could sit here and talk with me like this if you were going to choose a side, but then -” she shrugs, knowing full well that there will be people who will do that. People closer than Aurelia. People who’s knives will stick in her spine and she will want to die, but be unable to.
“Anything is possible.” Aurelia could do a lot of damage to her family. She could also - not. “Including bridging the gap.” Offering a fanged smile, the Wraith takes a look at the Torcher’s glass. “Another?”
Aurelia nods slightly, relieved that she hasn't accidentally picked a bone with Wessex over the subject. It's a tough position to be in, even for those on the outside looking in - more or less. And she understands, too, Wessex's hesitance to trust. It's not something she's asking for right away, not entirely. "I don't expect you to trust me, not with my allegiance to the Old Gods, even if my intention isn't to get involved with that part of it. I imagine.. somehow, I might get dragged into it despite my best efforts otherwise... My loyalty can be a flaw, at times," she glances down to the empty glass in her hands, "but a chance, maybe. That's all I can ask, and I'm willing to return the favor." One side of her lips perks up a little as she lifts her gaze back up.
Wessex claims that anything is possible, including bridging the gap, and Aurelia's brows raise at the fanged smile directed her way. Her expression eases up from its tension and she manages a smile of her own. "Absolutely," she says.
Though her brows do furrow again. She leans in on her elbows and lowers her voice more, as if the conversation has taken a secretive turn. "Wessex, what do you think it would take to do that? Bridge the gap - if it were possible. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
Stepping away will give the Wraith a moment to properly clear her head, so she nods and takes Aurelia’s glass and heads back up towards the bar, mulling over last question she’s heard.
How do they bridge the gap?
Another round of the same, and it isn’t long before she brings the two glasses back to the table, the thunk of glass against wood feeling like some kind of restart button in her head. Stop. Go. Rewind. Pause. Aurelia’s own confession of loyalty still sits uneasy in her stomach and she knows she should take the warning for what it is: when people tell you who they are, believe them. Aurelia will turn to Safrin and the Old Gods and the only thing she can do is mitigate future damage.
Stormy around the edges, the queen offers the bottom rim of her glass up for a gentle clink before taking a sip again. “I don’t think anyone has a tried and true answer for it yet. Knowing the reality helps. Maybe promises, but then the pessimist in me thinks promises are too easily broken. The Ascended are fighting our their - our - lives. If the Voice is defeated, we’ll die because we rely on her fluid to replenish ourselves. Biting people isn’t the same.” It can do in a pinch, but it doesn’t have the same qualities. Death or shutting down would be the inevitable outcome.
“So - not to put you on the spot, but what would it take for you to fight?” A simple command from Safrin? A threat of something - real or imagined - brought by silken tongues and manipulative fingers?
Aurelia waits for Wessex's return, thrumming her fingers along the top of the table and letting her mind mull over the possibilities of something different. Something a majority of them must desire, and yet that cohesive solution seems more difficult and unattainable than simply.. fighting a war and seeing who comes out on top. The thought of giving in to that notion makes her feel sick to her stomach.
She frowns as she takes the glass from Wessex, not fully present in that singular moment. It isn't until the woman offers a cheers and begins to speak again that Aurelia's attentions are brought back from the depths of her own brooding.
She shrugs in agreement about promises being easy to break. "It depends on the clauses," she half-jokes, offering a brief smile before grimacing into her glass. Understanding the death sentence that losing is for the Ascended, Aurelia cannot help but feel moved by it every time it comes up. But what to do about it? Fight for them? She isn't so sure she could make a difference..
Wessex's question does put her on the spot and she stipulates for a moment, taken aback. She hadn't considered that before. "I don't know..." she admits at first, feeling guilty. Then something occurs to her, "I've seen the impacts this kind of strife has on a society. It isn't a pretty future if the Ascended lose that fight. I wouldn't side against you if I had the choice. But.. if someone close to me were to get dragged into it... it wouldn't be a choice anymore." Her jaw feathers with the tension that truth brings. Which side, at that point, wouldn't matter. "The only thing that matters to me is protecting the things- the people I care about. I'm sure you can understand that."
06-05-2021, 09:44 PM (This post was last modified: 06-05-2021, 10:09 PM by Wessex.)
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
Snort-laughing quietly into her glass at the question, Wessex takes a larger gulp, which feels oddly justified by Aurelia’s answer. It’s a familiar answer. A justification. And it tells her everything she needs to know - well, almost everything.
“Of course I do. My fight isn’t just for people I care about, it’s for -“ she gestures vaguely to the room. “The right for people in my world to change and evolve. All of ‘em. Live and let live.”
Not knowing Aurelia, it’s hard for the Wraith to know who to talk about, but she can take a random stab with Torchline. “Torchline may be split - Nate’s a demigod now. He’s been drawn into it. Sunjata has a child with Safrin, he's drawn into it too.” She bites her tongue, willing the challenge to fall back down her throat and into her mechanical gut, erased by the whiskey she keeps drinking, to no effect.
“I’m heavily biased. I’m sorry. It’s not for lack of trying. Maybe your eyes are fresher - how do you think we bridge the gap?”
"I want that, too," she realizes with a pang, "everyone deserves that chance."
Her tongue runs over her lips thoughtfully when it comes to Torchline and where they stand. "Yeah.. that's true. I know Sunjata once told me he wanted to stay neutral, not take a side or involve Torchline but... he must know it will come to a head. I think everyone else knows it, too," she shifts in her seat almost uncomfortably, restlessly. Her feet shuffle against the floor for a moment as she readjusts and manages to say, "I know what will happen then won't be easy for any of us, but either way it will be something we all have to face. With or against each other. It's what comes after, I'm not sure about."
"I don't know," Aurelia admits, "I was hoping you'd have a better idea than me. I still feel like I'm just an outsider looking in," her brows lower and she sighs with the defeat of it all. "It seems so much like this is the Gods' fight, not the people's. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but... maybe someday someone will figure it out. Maybe we can work together, if it's not too late already.." Yet she can't bring herself to try and smile reassuringly, because this is all so dark and heavy. "I just wish there was another way."
“I think -” Wessex begins slowly, “That for many of us, we have to remember that it’s not out of malice. For the Order it is, I think. Maybe some others.” like Deimos she wants to say, but bites her tongue. Hard. Fluid lingers in her mouth and the elder sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“We could start with this -” It’s clear she’s improvising, maybe not pulling something out of her ass, but definitely flying by the seat of her proverbial pants. “Not killing. Your fire could - do a lot of damage. It could easily kill many of us. So you tell me who’s off limits, so to say. And then you agree not to use fire. And maybe we can do a little less damage.” Spreading her hands wide, she shrugs, shaking her head. It’s like throwing wet pasta against the wall and seeing what sticks.
“Or you find a way to keep the fighting to the demigods and just the demigods. I don’t know how. But, maybe - ?”
That way, it keeps the little person out of it.
“Maybe a series of personal promises are the way to go.”
She reflects on her own experiences, knowing firsthand that she's previously been among those that fought for their own personal convictions, grudges, ambitions. But there were many she killed that wanted nothing more than to escape, to live freely.
"I can agree to that," she says, adding on as a warning, "so long as it's not my life or theirs... but, I can tell you off the bat that I want Sunjata to make it out of all this okay. He's like family to me. I know Nate's one of your own and he's a demi now, so it's... different. But Sunjata's in bed with Safrin." Quite literally. "He's strong, too, but I worry that might work against him." What might be expected of him? She sighs forcefully, exasperated. "I don't know. What can we even expect?" Frustration seeps through into her tones as she grimaces and her teeth grit.
As for leaving out the little guy, and personal promises? There's hope in some of that and there's not, and trying to navigate towards the best option is difficult - but important. Almost precarious, like any wrong choice could make or break.
"Maybe. Like you said, promises can only go so far. People will fight with everything they have once it's down to the bone, but... until then, maybe that's our best bet."
Settling, Aurelia's brows pinch as she regards Wessex with a new perspective of the woman that sits before her. "Thank you for.. talking to me about all of this, Wessex. And for all the help with everything else. I hope we're wrong, and that none of this will be necessary," she flinches, "but if we're not, I'll remember the promise I've made here."
06-15-2021, 06:57 PM (This post was last modified: 06-17-2021, 02:22 PM by Wessex.)
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
Personally, she doesn’t think that Sunjata deserves the loyalty she keeps seeing from the people around him. Being Family, as the Flood had demonstrated earlier in the year, doesn’t mean you’re a good person. It just means people have a fucked up sense of attachment.
But it’s a small price to pay for keeping fire away from her kin, and she imagines that Nate would want to protect Sunjata anyway, so in the end it isn’t that big of an ask.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in a war. I’m a one-on-one or two-on-one kind of lady myself, so -” so it’s hard for her to make decisions for others, but she can do her best to make sure some things are understood. “ - this is out of my league as well.” And yes, even for her, it’s scary. What does she know about moving armies and directing people, her last go of it proved she was kinda shit at it, but then people also hadn’t done what they were supposed to do, so…
So it’s all up in the air.
“Of course,” an apologetic smile makes its way to the bottom of her glass. “Wish we could have met under different circumstances. Or earlier. I think we’d be friends.”
