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!
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
There was certainly a lot to think about and if Bastien let it, a lot to weigh down on his mind; Azrael had left, making Rexanna's absence all the more felt, tensions were apparently blooming between the Ascended and everyone else, Wessex was stepping down, marking a new era for the Grounds...a period of change and transition. He had never been a fan of them, for all his philosophical easygoing talk of letting life take you where it wanted to.
He didn't have that many close friends left nearby to talk to anymore, so he painted out the thoughts onto canvas; a dark, muddy brown with various textures, marks, lines - and just faintly, just beginning to take form, buildings and people; black vague shapes in the dusky night. Absorbed in his work, the thought player tinkling out some old piano tune he half remembered from a dance in Venice, Bastien was curled up on a stool, reaching forward with his hand to occasionally add flecks of colour.
Hardly a masterpiece, but it'd pass some hours on. Finally pulling his eyes from it, he washed his brush in a pot by his side and looked to the door - only to see someone there. "Oh, hello. I didn't know you were here; please, come in."
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
Isla remembers this place from her time making the baubles for the Firling - it's a bright and sumptuous change from the rest of the Hollowed Grounds, particularly since Longnight and all the horrors that it brought. And truthfully, she hasn't intended to stand and watch the man paint - Bastien is someone she also recognises, come to think of it - but he seems so absorbed in his work that she finds it difficult to interject politely.
"Hello," she says, smiling gently back at him when he does look up. "I'm sorry - I ought to have announced my presence a little better. You are Bastien, right?" she asks. "I'm Isla - I was hoping I could have a moment of your time if that isn't too much trouble?"
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
He did vaguely recognise the woman in the door, in that he knew she'd been here before; with so many people attending his workshops or coming to the studio to vent with paints or sculpture, it was hard to keep track of each one, especially those that only came once. Thankfully, she introduced herself; Bastien put his brush down and lifted himself from the seat to approach and shake her hand.
"I am. Come in, let's sit down. I could do with a break from staring at that anyway." He said, tilting his head towards the canvas. Guiding Isla to the couches in the main room, behind the closed curtain for Ascended comfort away from the sun, he sat down and stretched out over one of them, gesturing for her to take the other. "Please, tell me what you need."
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
He is a picture perfect host, and for a fraction of a second Isla is reminded of her life as a duchess, when she wasn't playing field medic to soldiers with infections, of course. With a polite smile to Bastien, she shakes his hand and follows him wherever he wants to seat them. "What is it you were painting?" she asks curiously, before she can help herself, the doctor seating herself on the couch opposite and watching as Bastien gets very comfortable indeed.
"I was wondering if you might be interested in joining an organisation we are considering setting up," she begins softly; despite how she wants to come across, it still sort of sounds like a secret. Because it is, Isla supposes. "There are those among the Ascended who would see us all live in peace. Who would come together, beyond the Voice, the old gods and any other deity, to oppose this coming war."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
"Ah..." Bastiens eyes glanced across to the back of the canvas, where light coming through the door made the fabric see through and the paint on it visible; from the back it looked streaky and quite awful; he wrinkled his nose and looked back to Isla. "At the moment, not much. Just indulging in putting paint to canvas; the act itself is comforting. Later? Maybe it will be something. There is certainly a lot on my mind."
Honestly, given the discussion he'd recently had in the council where the idea of leading the Grounds had had to come into his mind, Bastien's initial reaction to hearing the word 'organisation' was to inwardly groan, but he kept that away from his face; nodding patiently, a smile on his lips, he waited to hear more.
Thankfully, when Isla did elaborate, it turned out this organisation would be very relevant to his interests. Bastien leaned in, clear passion on his face, and nodded. "Tell me more. Who is involved? What are your goals? Though...I must say, your certainty for a war is troubling." That did dampen his expression a little, but she wasn't the first person he'd heard say that, and if it really was coming, he knew what side he wanted to be on.
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
"I understand. It is a way for you to empty your mind out - perhaps I ought to take up painting, though I'm afraid I'm not sure where I would ever find the time." Between the infirmary and this new venture, Isla's days were certainly full. So saying, talk moves swiftly on to the subject she has come to discuss and, knowing absolutely nothing for Bastien's ideas about leading the Grounds, or for his initial reticence, all the medic can see if the enthusiasm on his face, and it has her relaxing further into the couch with a smile.
"Gladly," she murmurs. "At the moment, myself, Samuel Wordsworth and Sunjata Wrenzaok - the Torchline Governor - are involved. We are hoping that Nate, his husband, will join as well, and we are trying to look for others. We just want to spread the message for peace, and to create a place where we might all speak freely about it. As for the war... perhaps I am more pessimistic than I thought Do you truly think it can be stopped?"
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
As soon as Isla said she was interested in painting, Bastien perked up, obvious excitement in his eyes; another for the Sanctuary, perhaps? With so many people migrating away from the Grounds, they'd been depressingly low on members for quite some time. "Well, you are Ascended, which gives you the wonderful benefit of never having to sleep, hm?" He pointed out, gently waving his hand. "I'm sure you could find an hour in one of your nights every so often, and I would be more than happy to keep a canvas and paints ready for you."
Her list of members was not very long, but he supposed that was why she was still actively looking for more. Sam's name made him momentarily wrinkle up his nose; he'd always thought of the shrinking violet as a useless little shy thing, but maybe this was a sign he was finally living up to all the faith the Voice had placed in him.
"I would gladly join such a group. I...don't honestly know what I think. Every time I believe that we are closer to understanding, to a sort of peace, something else happens; the Gods interfere, the world changes." Bastien sighed, pushed a hand through his hair. "I am not suited for war. I hope the Gods will sort it among themselves."
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
Bastien makes a compelling point, and Isla flashes him a grin tipped with fangs and nods her head. "You are right," she says slowly. "I think I would be interested in sketching and painting anatomy, if you see what I mean. It would be good to put my knowledge into some kind of creative outlet. Would you teach me to use the tools, if I came along one night?" Isla isn't actually sure if she has a creative bone in her body, but her fellow Ascended is correct - there is no need to sleep, and so no real excuse.
But back to their venture; Isla nods gently as she listens to Bastien's points, letting out a soft sigh that, while unnecessary, still says everything she's feeling. "That, I think, is one of the reasons for such a group. While everything is changing constantly, perhaps we can take comfort from knowing there is a place that remains the same. Seeking peace, wanting only to understand each other better. I have seen my share in war, and I don't wish to be involved in it again. I believe your addition to our group will be a good one."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
Bastien couldn't help the smirk on his lips and the wiggle of his eyebrows. "The tools to learn anatomy, hm? Well, I have done some modelling before." Laughing, he flexed an arm and posed, puffing his chest out and tilting his chin up before falling back down into a normal position. "I have absolutely everything you could need and all the time in the world to teach - you are welcome." He'd taught everyone from absolute beginners to experienced artists and was always ready to take on more students.
Could a group of cobbled together dreamers even hope to hold back the events set in motion by the Gods? Bastien really had no idea, but it was the kind of romantic ideal he'd always liked, and if they did succeed, they'd need a good artist to paint their portraits after.
"I will help. Let me know when you want to gather and I will be there - I could try and ask people that come in if they would be interested too. Get them invested in peace before they can be seduced away by those interested in war." He sighed, pressing his hands together, thinking of the Order, of the friends gone to it. "When I first came here, I thought I had escaped the divides of my home. I didn't - the names just changed."
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
Tilting her head, Isla clearly doesn't catch his drift at first - she had been thinking of the sort of anatomy that comes from dissection and the things her upgrades allowed, but modelling has it dawning on her, and she flashes Bastien a grin to watch him preen. Honestly, it isn't a bad idea, and as long as he's alright with her looking at his bones, she's perfectly content with his modelling. "Then it is a plan. I will stop by one evening when the clinic is quiet and I am feeling creative," she decides with a gentle nod.
It's an unexpected twist to her original reasons behind coming to the Artist Sanctuary, but that they have both gained something from it is not lost on Isla, her smile warm and content as he agrees to join their cause. "I'll send a note here, or drop by when I know more details. Currently all I can say is that the Atheneum is being suggested for our meeting place, and we are hoping to get together before season's end." she nods.
The talk of divides, of conflict, has her expression sobering somewhat, Isla frowning at the rugs. "Yes, it seems that discord seems to follow humanity around, doesn't it? Perhaps that is why the Voice sought to change things, to Ascend us."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised
"Wonderful. It will be a moment of brevity in what is becoming a very miserable time." He'd been considering a party, but it felt uncomfortable when they didn't know who of their friends was planning their demise with the Old Gods; as much as he hated to be insular, secretive...maybe it was best to spend time with his fellow Ascended only for the time being.
The plan was set for the meeting, which he hoped would produce something positive for them all. "Maybe so...still, I find it sad we cannot hope to connect while simply as we are. I suppose it is just one of the flaws of humans." Bastien sighed; he'd often spent time thinking about this in Venice, when all sorts of pathetic reasons kept people from each other. Perhaps this time, he could actually make a difference.
{FIN}
And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom
