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!
He can’t imagine what it’s like, truthfully. To officially die and be brought back, raised from the dead? He supposes that’s quite a feat in and of itself. He’ll have to ask Aamu how he did it. But there’s a long, slow nod at the mention of LongNight, dying during the darkest of weeks. He doesn’t blame her for wanting to come back. In fact, he’s glad she has.
And not just because she helped him remove his arm.
She settles in a chair of her own and his gaze follows her even as his fingers continue to run along the blankets, pretending as though he can feel the fabric beneath them as her words reach him. “I also read.” He rumbles with a light laugh. “My family had a sprawling library.” He explains with a wave of his hand until her words of where he’s staying have him flashing her an amused grin if only to hide the truth of what he’s about to say.
“Been staying at that new bar with the weird name.” He shrugs his one good shoulder. “Other than that just trying to explore the differences.” Long story short? No. He hadn’t.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Oh, they did? Were they here in the Grounds as well...?" Isla wonders, struck suddenly by the realisation that whatever family Varus had once been surrounded by is dead and gone, unless they were also Ascended. And even then... Her brow furrows a little, but he's speaking again before she has a chance to retract her question, not wanting to pry too deeply into wounds that might be better off scarred over.
The medic watches him for a careful few moments, flashing a fanged smile his way eventually that suggests that she's seen right through him. "The VlamVloed," she clarifies. "I'm not sure anyone is actively running it right now, though. If you need somewhere to lay your head for a bit instead of wandering around, though, there are spare beds at the Infirmary."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
His head perks up a bit at the mention of where he was from, a small nostalgic smile crossing his face. “Yeah.” He pauses, lips pursing a fraction. “I was born here in the Grounds, had a big and nice house I grew up in. Tried to find it but all I could find was rubble upon rubble.” The Ruins were likely where his family home had been razed in the war and the centuries prior. Nothing remained.
Part of him hopes that some of those books from there had managed to make it into the Atheneum but he hasn’t gotten the courage to look.
But her smile drags him out of it and he leans back against the couch, his one hand rising now to give his head something to rest upon as he regards her. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” He would, too, in case things got too intense for him to continue searching for things that no longer existed. “All things considered, though, I think I’m handling the changes well.” He pauses, sitting up a bit straighter. “How was your adjustment? From being dead dead to alive?”
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Oh?" Isla's eyes light up before promptly dimming once more, like a candle being snuffed out. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, Cal. Did... would you like me to check with any of the Grounders, to see if they remember your family? There are a few old lines here, they might have some idea about where they were buried, or if there's anything left you might find." It sounds unlikely even to Isla's ears - maybe after fifty years there might be some hope. But three hundred? The chances are very slim indeed.
Wiping away the hint of sadness to offer him a gentle smile, Isla nods and lets out a long sigh. "Make sure you do. It's important to rest, even if we can't sleep. I am as guilty of that as anyone else." And it's true - perhaps with someone at the infirmary on a regular basis, she'd actually be held responsible for her own time management. As for her adjustment? Isla brightens all over again. "Relatively easy, I think. I was only gone for a couple of years. The main change was in the people. The friends I knew."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
She's making him slip up a fraction, or perhaps it’s because of his need for closeness, some sort of contact, a friend as he once had many of to get to know him and keep him from falling too far over the edge into becoming the soldier he did. But there’s something about her that gathers his trust, and her offer to help him is accepted with a small almost sad smile. “Thanks, but I doubt people would remember the name much.” It’s been centuries, after all, and he was the last one as far as he knew. “If you want to try though, my family name is Callahan.” His gaze settles on her, wondering if she’d draw attention to the fact that he went by Cal, how it wasn’t exactly his true first name he’d given her but the last name like a soldier.
The gentle smile is received and given back, nodding in understanding. “Would be nice to run some scans now and then instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.” He bounces back with his humor, but doesn’t quite delve into the true reasons of resting his mind — the whole brooding ordeal he’d go through the moment he stopped constantly going.
Isla brightens and with it, it drags him into it too and he watches her with a soft smile. “That’s good then. I’m happy for you.” He offers her with a decisive nod. “Makes it easier having that connection.” One he didn’t really have so much anymore, but he understood it all the same.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"That might be the case, but you would be surprised how many families are here from before the barrier. The Wordsworths, the Chandrakants..." Isla shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe your name will ring a bell with them. Or it could be in the Atheneum somewhere." Settling back in her seat, her eyebrows raise to hear the surname in full - Isla is no fool, and she does recognise the Cal in Callahan, but whilst she does meet his gaze, she doesn't probe about it.
Wrinkling her nose, she nods her agreement and lets herself get more comfortable in the seat. Had she still been Accepted she'd be yawning by now, but instead, the mention of running a few scans has her eyes flashing a little, as if engaging in one herself. "Sooner you get it done the better, eh?" she jokes right back, before nodding at his remark. "Mm, I don't know what I'd have done without it. I'm glad you were able to find Aamu."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
The names register a bit, and Varus settles into the couch as he flashes her a small smile. “Already met one of the Theskyra’s.” He offers, shrugging his one shoulder as he meets her gaze and he knows that she knows he hadn’t given her his first name. But she doesn’t push on it and it’s something that Varus appreciates far more than he could ever articulate.
As she wrinkles her nose and her eyes flash, Varus watches with a hint of curiosity before her joke hits him and he offers her a warm chuckle. “Ugh, unfortunately. I’ll be here forever if I were to do it now.” He lifts his one hand and waves slightly, before he’s dragging that blanket on the back of the couch back over to inspect. Even if it took forever, it wouldn't entirely stop him. She isn't trying to get him out of her house just yet anyway, might as well take the charity where he can. “I’m glad too.” He admits with a small, surprisingly bright smile, before he’s leaning back into the couch and stretching his legs out in front of him.
“So, Isla, what’re your favorite types of books?” He asks, leaning his head back against the back of the couch and peers at her with a tinge of brightness to his gaze as he starts to run some minimal scans.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Oh?" Isla raises her eyebrows. "It wouldn't happen to be Wessex, would it?" The fanged grin she sends his way is cheeky at best. Is it because that's the only Theskyra she knows? Maybe. But Cal doesn't know that, obvious as it might be. "Well, the couch is probably more comfortable than some infirmary bed with the rest of the world ticking by around you. So feel free, if you want." She waves a hand right back. "I've plenty of books to occupy myself. Perhaps I will take up knitting as well."
She'd probably quite enjoy it, actually, with the whole stitches-and-sutures thing. It's impossible not to catch the way he's running his fingers over the blanket, and she nods at it. "The red square towards the bottom is best," she tells him. The blanket is mostly beige patches, but sure enough, towards the other end of it is a red square that looks rather well worn. Probably for the same reasons he's engaging in right now.
"Mm...? Oh, I mostly study," she admits. "Medical texts, anatomy, procedures, remedies, things like that. When I get the time, though, I quite enjoy mystery novels. What about you?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“That’s exactly who it was.” Varus offers with a half fanged smirk. “She found me, actually.” He pauses, considering Isla briefly. “Let me have a bite to replenish what I lost so I could have you take my arm off before visiting a shrine.” All in all, despite the roughness of their meeting, it had been nice to not have to slog through everything else with how low of fluid he was running on at the time.
But she mentions the couch is more comfortable and he gets it, the way he sinks into the cushions. If he still needed to sleep he’s sure he’d be passed out by now. But as it stands, he’s a guest in this house with a beautiful host and he doesn’t particularly want to miss out on anything else. “Knitting, huh? Sounds right up your alley.” He offers with a quiet laugh, gesturing to the missing arm where her stitches still sat, perfectly well taken care of. But then he takes the offer all the same and starts to run a few smaller scans.
He does as she says, flipping the blanket over to run his fingers along that red square near the bottom. She’s right, and it’s the little anchor he clings to as he watches her idly, the scans running as if they were in the background. “You must have a lot going on in that mind of yours.” If she mostly studied, that is. Truthfully, to Varus, it sounded rather boring. “Mysteries are good. I used to read up on strategy books but my true loves are thrillers and romance.” A playful grin is shot her way.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"She's a good person, from my experiences of her," Isla murmurs with a gentle nod, unsurprised to hear that the Wraith had been so dedicated for one of her fellow Ascended. "Have you been to a shrine yet?" she wonders. "I haven't, not since I got back... I keep meaning to. I should say my thanks properly."
Pebble blue eyes track the way he sinks into the sofa, the way his fingers start to dance across the square of blanket that she likes to favour often, and there's no need to make a mention of it. She'd offered, and if Varus wants to take her up on that offer, that's all there is to it. "I thought so too. Perhaps I could knit you a whole new arm? Whatever colour you like," she suggests.
Strategy sounds just as boring to Isla as medical texts do to Varus, but they can agree on a good mystery at least. Lounging in the chair now, she scoffs and shakes her head to him. "Busy mind gives me less time to dwell on things. It's easy to slip into brooding when you have all the time in the world, you know?" Gods, if only she did. "You're as corny as they come, aren't you? How about a romantic thriller?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
His chin dips a fraction in agreement that Wessex was good. He didn’t know the Wraith much, but he did know that she’d saved him from Queen’s Gambit, brought him to Isla to get the arm removed. Otherwise, he’d still likely be lost, trying to find his way back to the Grounds from King’s End. “I’ve been back to reup but I haven’t gone and asked to see her yet.” He pauses, flashing a gentle smile her way as his fingers run along the blanket. “Would do some good to catch up, I guess.” He rumbles with a soft laugh.
It’s been centuries since he’d seen the Voice, after all.
His brows raise at the idea of a knitted arm, a bark of a laugh leaving him as it interrupts his scans. “Oh that’d be great. How about… A purple one.” He rumbles with amusement gleaming clear in his gaze, before he tries to settle to continue the scans, watching as she lounges in the chair opposite of him.
The idea of brooding, though, well… If there was someone that understood that quite well, it was the man sitting on the couch. “Ohhhh, I know.” He admits with a crooked smile as she launches into the suggestion of a romantic thriller. “See, exactly. That’s exactly it.” He hums another laugh. “Sometimes you gotta keep your imagination up to par.” And to focus on someone else’s lives within the bindings of the pages rather than the way your own spiraled out of control.
“You comfortable over there?” He asks with a sparkle of amusement with how she’s lounged quite contently on her side, something that’s mirrored in the way he sinks in and starts his scans again.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Same. I think I will have to make some time for it soon - it has been far too long." She feels guilty, truthfully, for having left it so long, especially since Aamu had led them back from their rest to this land of the living. Squashing down the sour feelings and committing to go and petition for the Voice to see her soon, Isla absently tucks a curl behind her ear. Were she still Accepted she'd be yawning by now, or asleep in her textbook, but as it stands this state of leisurely conversation in the twilight of her home is as good as it gets.
"Purple? You couldn't choose an easy colour," she remarks dryly, though there's a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I am actually learning to paint, if you must know. There's a place in the Grounds called the Artist's Sanctuary. Maybe you ought to join me there one evening."
Raising her eyebrows, the grin she directs across at him can't be anything but shit-eating. "This is my house, Cal. I am as comfortable as it gets," she says. "And so are you, by the look of it." Then, with a sigh of consideration, Isla shifts just a fraction to look at him properly. "To be honest, it's strange to have a visitor. Not a bad strange, obviously. I just can't remember the last time it was more than just me in here."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
Catching up with the Voice is something the both of them need to do, it seems, but Varus is quite content to sit there and flash an amused grin at her as she offers her two cents over the color he’s chosen. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does ‘Whatever color you like’ only account for those that are easy?” He quips, that charming smile tugging at his face again. The offer of painting at the Artist’s Sanctuary, though, does intrigue him a fraction. He isn’t much of a painter, honestly, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try. “I’m a horrid painter, but I’d be happy to attend.” He offers, his head tilting a fraction as he regards her.
Her shit-eating grin, though, sparks a brighter gleam to his gaze. “I’m quite comfortable, yes.” He assures her with a bright chuckle, one that mellows out as she offers a hint of honesty. Something that smooths over the amusement of before. “I imagine if it was a bad strange you would’ve asked me to leave a while ago.” And she hadn’t. And so he’s stayed. And he’d likely stay however long she wanted, craving that bit of conversation, the closeness to someone else that he hasn’t had in centuries. “Well, since we can’t entertain as one would if they weren’t Ascended, I guess we’ll have to make it up as we go, yeah?” He makes a show of consideration, his head tilting as his gaze darts around the room. Tea and food were options that didn't benefit them, neither was sleeping. But there are other things that might be considered fun. “Whatcha got for board games?” Or any games. He's not picky.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Yes," Isla informs him seriously, "and it was very rude of you not to consider colours that didn't fall under that description." She can't keep up the serious facade for long, the smile threatening to twitch at her lips, and she shrugs her shoulders. "Fine. Purple it is," she says, knowing neither how to knit, nor where she will get any purple wool from. It isn't exactly a common dye in the Hollowed Grounds. "And I'm also a horrid painter. I only really sketch anatomy for notes, so it has been a steep learning curve." At least they can laugh at each other.
They're both comfortable, then, and it's only a little bit awkward-as-hell. But Isla supposes that her entertaining skills are very rusty, even for an ex-duchess, and so she sits up as Varus takes pity and injects his charisma (as seems to be the custom in their conversation) into the problem. "Board games?" She chuckles. "I don't have any. I have paper and pencils, though - we could play hangman, or tic tac toe, or pictionary?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
