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!
Daybreak spreads over Torchline, falling across the still smoldering Slagveld and bathing the beach where onlookers linger in warmth, signaling the start of another sweltering day. Maeve isn't entirely sure how long she's been awake by the time she drags herself back to Locke's, entire body feeling heavy as she pauses to toe off her boots, but not having the energy to do much else. There is still soot on her skin, tear tracks cutting sharp trails through the black tinge on her cheeks and the blood on her hands has dried to a rusty dark brown to match what covers the entirety of her front. Feeling as if she's moving through molasses, Maeve drifts through the small apartment towards the backroom that holds their bed, peeking her head inside to see if Locke is waiting for her in bed.
There isn't much going through her mind, too tired to think that he could possibly be anywhere else but here. When bloodshot eyes settle on an empty bed there is a sudden wave of fear, strong enough to make her sway on her feet even as she braces herself against the doorframe. He wouldn't have been there, right? He couldn't have been. Maeve knows Ru wouldn't have started the fire if people had been inside. This hadn't been about harming innocents. She knows that in her gut even if she hasn't had the chance to talk to the former queen before she disappeared into the last dregs of night. Maeve will find her later.
Right now her concern for Locke pushes her from the bedroom back to the main living area as she tries to work out a plan. He could be looking for her too. If she leaves they might spend all day going around in circles. Perhaps it would be best just to stay put. Yes, that sounds smart. Isn't there something about not moving when you're lost? She thinks there is. It's with that thought that she sinks onto the couch, tucking herself into the corner with a bone weary sigh, eyes on the door. She'll just wait for him. He'll come back eventually. Maeve doesn't let herself think otherwise even as her eyes grow heavy. It's only moments before she's asleep.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
He's lost track of time. Between getting the Halenani workers somewhere safe and trying to find Maeve and the constant throbbing pain in his hands, he's lost his mind. He had gone home, right after, but she wasn't there. So he went to the Slagveld, was told she had been there but wasn't anymore, he went to the in progress Halenani, he went to the inn, basically, he'd been all over Torchline. His whole body hurt in a way he couldn't really explain. He was exhausted. All there was left to do was go home and hope she was either there or that she'd show up at some point.
The sun was already up when he pushed the door open. What was it? A whole day almost? That he's been awake. Fuck being an early riser. "Mae?" Equal parts confusion and concern color his voice as he looks around for her. He spots the lump on the couch and sighs softly in relief. At least until he realizes she's covered in blood. Whatever exhaustion that had settled into his bones is quickly gone with the spike of adrenaline as he rushes over to her. One bloody, fucked up hand presses against her cheek, tilting her head up towards him. "Mae, please." It's all pathetic and almost choked as he watches her take a breath.
She does and he leans forward, pressing a shaky kiss to her lips as he tries to wake her. He's perfectly unaware of just how bad he looks. Soot clings to his skin like smoke clings to what's left his pants. His hands took the worst of the damage, slices in his palms and fingers. He's got a few smaller cuts but they're nowhere near as bad. As he cradles her face in his hands, he reopens many of the cuts. Oops.
Her sleep is dreamless. Nothing but black behind her eyelids to cradle her in its sweet embrace. Warm and secure like a heavy blanket, tucking her away from the events of the day, letting her rest for the first time in hours. Slow and heavy breaths that seem to take too long to fill her lungs is all he has to go off of. Lashes flutter at the sound of her name falling from his lips like a plea, begging her to come back to him from the blackness that's holding her, but gods if she isn't willing to do just that. His voice, despite being choked and tinged with desperation, is sweet and her eyes open slowly as his lips brush against hers. It takes her a span of a few seconds to get her wits about her, torn between the warmth on her cheeks and his face hovering before hers as he pulls back, but a breath of relief pushes past her lips. "You're home."
The words are slurred, barely more than a whisper of breath against his lips as she draws back a bit more to get a look at him. Neither of them seem aware of how much of a mess they look. His own skin just as sooty as hers and there is a damp, sticky warmth on her cheeks where he's cradling her face between his hands. Is she crying again? When did that start happening. The smell of smoke is thick in the air, sticking in her nose and throat as she draws a deep breath, reaching up slowly to place her hand over the back of his as she leans into his touch. Her heart is racing again, rabbiting wildly in her chest as she takes him in, sea glass gaze scanning his face in an attempt to piece things together. He wasn't at the Slagveld. Why was he all dirty? Had something else happened? Another spike of fear lances through her, mingling with the concern that's gripping her heart in a vice grip.
"You weren't here when I got back... Didn't know where you were. I was going to look for you, but I thought it might be better if I just stayed. A-are you okay? You look scared." There is a strange edge of calm to her voice, still caught somewhere between shock and disbelief of what happened, but he's here now. He's safe too. They're both safe.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
Her voice is like a balm on his nerves and it takes every ounce of him not to kiss her again. He has to be gentle with her, in case she's hurt. He'd hate to move her some way and make it worse or something. His eyes trail over her, trying to find where the source of the blood might be. She's pale but not like bloodloss pale and he sighs softly with it. Some wounds just bleed worse than they are. He's exhausted, she's half asleep, they're both a mess, but at least they're alive. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he sits down next to her, fingers trailing bloody streaks across her cheeks. He's trying to get her hair out of her face but he's not doing a very good job of it. "Of course I'm scared. Mae, you're covered in blood. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He's no doctor but he knows basic first aid, plus a little maybe.
"I'm okay. Someone set the Wren Society on fire when the Slagveld caught.. The workers are safe, we got them out.." He practically mumbles it. He's not all that worried about himself, honestly. "Someone said they saw you at the Slagveld." It's barely a whisper as he looks down, his hands trailing down her neck to find her hands. The pain is dulled, numbed by the tired that's set into his bones.
Maeve forces herself to sit up a bit more, muscles protesting slightly after, but more from the physical labor she's been doing than anything else. She reaches down with her free hand, tugging up her shirt slightly to show her belly as if to confirm that there aren't any wounds. There is blood smeared on her skin there too, but no obvious wounds. She made it out unscathed. "It's not my blood." Maeve finally clarifies, accent thick across the words as she looks up to meet his eyes, brows drawing together in concern as she looks him over. Her fingers release her shirt and instead she reaches up to smudge at the soot on his cheek as if to wipe it away. "I'm not hurt. Nothing happened to me." Which was ridiculous luck given how unhinged Aurelia seemed to have been, throwing fire out without much care for where it landed.
He mentions the Wren Society and worry instantly fills her gut, twisting as she tenses as if to get up from the couch, but stops herself, "Good.. Good.. I guess whoever did it saw an opprotunity and took it." Maeve says softly, drawing in a shaky breath and letting it out after a moment, trying to calm her already shot nerves. Her head bobs in a short nod, "I was coming home and I saw someone stab Atlas. Ru's companion... There was smoke coming out of the door and I- I tried to help Atlas. Tried to stop the bleeding." Her throat tightens and she still remembers the fear in his eyes, the way the wound pulsed beneath her hands with each gush of blood. "Aurelia.. Aurelia stabbed him in the eye and I thought that was it, but he healed and tried to get away." Then there was fire. So much fire that Maeve narrowly escaped herself. She shakes her head, unable to force the words out.
"It was just chaos after that..." Maeve finishes, swallowing thickly as her eyes grow glassy, tears clinging to her lower lashes and refusing to fall yet. She meets his gaze before drawing in a shuddering breath, suddenly wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "M'just glad you're okay too."
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
Normally her pulling her shirt up would be exciting, normally there'd be a predatory tinge to the way he looks at her, but not today. His eyes rove her skin but only to find bruises, wounds of any kind. There's nothing extraordinary there and he sighs again, laughing almost softly to himself. A whispered curse as she looks back at him. They're here and he has to remind himself of it over and over. For a second he's curious who's blood it is but as she talks he kind of pieces together what he thinks may have happened.
His head tilts, face scrunching up a bit. Aurelia? Why would she? He doesn't know her well, of course, but still. It doesn't sound like her to him. Then again, what would he know? But maybe she knew something the pair of them didn't? He didn't know Hotaru that well either, honestly. He does sympathize with Maeve though, if she'd been trying to save him. He shakes his head, the only reaction that feels right.
Her arms go around him and he pulls her tight to him. "M'glad you're okay too.." He presses a kiss into the side of her neck before leaning back. "I don't even know what to do first.. Shower, sleep.. Eat.. Just kinda wanna be here with you.. Was so worried all night.. Don't know why I didn't come home earlier.." Because fear makes you irrational.
He wraps his arms around her, drawing he tight to his chest and she lets out a sob that she doesn't realize she's even been holding in. A shudder runs through her as she buries her face against his neck, whimpering softly as she clings to him tightly, unable to even find it in herself to draw away from his as the events of the night crash down onto her. None of it makes sense. How could Aurelia do that? Why would she burn him alive? None of it seemed right. Even with what she knew of Aurelia, it was hard to come to terms with the things that had happened. Maeve tries to pull it together for him as he draws back to look at her. A shaky breath pushes past her lips and she finally pulls back to take his hands. It's then that she sees how fucked up they are.
Dark brows draw together, "Loxley... Baby.. Your hands." Meve murmurs, voice wavering again as she turns them over in her own, seeing the bits of glass still embedded in his palms. "Need to get the glass out. Then shower. You need to sleep. Can eat after you wake up." Always the planner, ready to spring into action and take care of those around her, Maeve starts to move. She stands, limbs a bit shaky as she moves to find the small first aid kit, grabbing it quickly and making her way back over to him. Maeve settles on the couch once more, opening the kit in her lap and finding the tweezers to start picking small shards from his palms. "It's okay. You're here now." She says softly, gently pulling splinters of glass from the cuts, placing them in a little pile on a piece of gauze.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
She sobs into his shoulder and he lets her, hands tangling into her shirt as he digs through his own emotions. Honestly the fire hadn't really jostled him too much. Worry for the workers but then it was over as quickly as it started. The Voice had saved them. Surely because of Nate? He'd have to ask. Some other day though. Maeve is leaning back and looking at his hands. Oh. Right. The glass. He makes a little noise as she turns them. He'd forgotten, honestly, in all of this.
He doesn't really say anything as she gets up, doesn't say anything when she comes back. He just silently watches her pick the glass out. That's.. Weird. He can feel it but not really? "Thought going through the window as a good idea.. Wasn't sure if the door would open.." He kind of laughs, something closer to bitter than joy. "The Voice put the fire out, Mae. Heard 'er myself.." How strange is it that the Voice saved the Halenani workers? Wasn't the Halenani built for Frey? Or because of them at least.. His brain really is running on fumes, isn't it? He bites his lip as he watches her work. Usually he's patching himself up.
Hazel eyes flick up, watching her face as she works. He didn't mean to upset her, to worry her. Maybe she does care about him. "Will you shower with me? Not.. Not like that I just.. Don't want to be away from you." A confession that makes him feel weaker than the smoke and blood loss.
She's quiet as she works, brow furrowed in deep concentration as she gingerly pulls glass from his flesh, taking great care to get every single splinter she sees. Maeve flicks her eyes up to him, lips pressing into a thin line, "Don't think you'd have been able to go through the front from what I heard." She murmurs, voice soft and reassuring as if she's trying to soothe any guilt he might feel over having gotten hurt. That doesn't matter now. What matters is that he wasn't hurt worse because it could have been so much worse. A quiet sound of acknowledgement rises in her throat, "They put the fire out at the Slagveld. Well, maybe not them specifically, but a part of them." It doesn't really matter who put it out. Whatever reason for it of little consequence. While Maeve might have found herself aligning with Safrin, she wasn't one to think that the Voice and the Ascended were the enemy. It was complicated.
A few more moments of silence pass, Maeve's focus intent on taking care of his hands, making sure there isn't any lingering glass to cause further damage to his already ruined flesh. They're going to take time to heal. She can already tell. The scars will be deep. He's lucky that the glass didn't lacerate any tendons. Otherwise he might have lost the function of his hand. The question catches her off guard as she already planned on going with him. He isn't the only one hesitant to be apart. Maeve pauses, looking up at him with an understanding in her sea glass gaze as his confession is aired, nodding at his words. "I don't want to be away from you either." She murmurs, reaching up with her spare hand to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb over the skin there lightly before she's dropping it to return to the task at hand.
A few final pieces are pulled from the cuts and she lets out a breath, setting the tweezers back down in the little tin, "I'll bandage them when we get out. Come on... Let's get cleaned up." Maeve makes to stand, keeping a hold of his hands and leading him to the small bathroom, turning the water on to warm up as she strips out of her ruined clothes before helping him with his own. Soon she's pulling him under the spray, the water turning pink as it begins to wash away the blood from her skin.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
"Back door was open." He was stupid in hindsight but you know how the saying goes. It's not like he could've predicted the Voice would clear things out or anything. He just did what instinct told him to do. "Don't think I'm meant to play hero.." His head tilts just a tad, brain trying to keep up with everything. It feels blank, empty, almost. Then again that's how he usually feels after things like this. No emotion, no processing, just going with the flow. "Huh. Maybe should pay her shrine a visit.. Say thanks.." It all could've been a lot worse. He feels for Ru, he really does, but it could've been so much worse.
The corner of his lip quirks up as she works. He could stop her and do it himself, maybe, but he thinks they both need this. He's got that tight chest feeling he's come to associate with her and some part of him wants to say something, anything about it. He's almost lost her twice and each time it gets harder, even if she's fine. He leans into her hand, taking the comfort she gives. He'll have to return it but for now he'll let her dote for a moment.
She's done and he almost wishes she wasn't but she's leading him down the hallway to the bathroom. It's tiny and cramped and it's never felt more perfect than it does now. He watches her strip down, eyes checking for any lingering wounds she may not have noticed. He doesn't see anything, maybe a few bruises, some tender skin but nothing that needs attention. Luckily for her, he only has pants to step out of, ruined as they are. He lets her go first, eyes following the sooty pink trails that run down her skin.
Another other time and he'd have her against the wall. He kind of wants to right now but for entirely different reasons. "Sorry I can't wash your hair for you." He feels helpless and it hurts more than the cuts do.
"You don't have to play hero, mon amour.." Maeve soothes, drawing him towards the bathroom once she finishes and getting them both stripped down. With gentle hands Maeve guides him into the shower, standing under the warm spray so the soot and blood is washed away, swirling down the drain as she lets out a breath. They both fall into quiet, nothing but the water and steam to surround them, cradling them in warmth as they press together in the small space. Gently she runs her hands over his skin, grounding herself as much as she's grounding him, the uneasiness in her chest finally starting to ease. It's easy to see each other now, to check for any more injuries, but both of them come up with nothing.
It's hard to wrap her head around. How did they get here? How have they found themselves involved in so much tragedy recently? Maeve can't focus on it. If she does she's just going to break. There isn't any time for that. Not when he's right here before her, seeming to barely hold it together, eyes distant and vacant until he's looking at her. Maeve reaches up, cupping his face between both of her hands as she gently wipes away the soot that stains his skin. "I can wash my hair this one time. It's fine. Let me take care of this right now." She moves to grab the soap, intent on getting him clean first even though she's surely the one who is dirtier between the two of them. Quickly a soapy lather is worked up between her hands and she gently spreads the suds over his skin, stripping away sweat and dirt and the remnants of soot that cling to him. All of it rinses away down the drain and Maeve is glad to see it go.
She doesn't take the same time with herself. Maeve washes herself thoroughly, barely taking a moment to look herself over while she does it. Soon her skin is scrubbed pink, nice and clean of blood, soot, and ash once more. Her hair is done next and all that's left is the smell of lavender, no more smoke clinging to them as her arms wind around him, pressing herself to his front with a soft exhale. "Do you want to get out now? Can bandage your hands and rest. Cuddle in the bed?" Maeve asks softly, glancing up at him as the water continues to run warmly over there skin, close to going cold.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
It's like having an out of body experience without the pleasure of actually being out of his body. He watches her wash him before watching her wash herself. His fingers trail along her skin as she cleans, wanting to help in some small way. He's not sure what else to do really. Finally she's done and she turns to face him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing close. Golden flecked hazel meets sea glass green and he takes a sharp breath.
He leans forward, pressing his lips to her's. He pulls back for only a second before he's kissing her again properly. His grip on her tightens just a bit and he can feel the faint sting of cuts reopening but he doesn't care. He doesn't pull away until he has to, tilting his head against her's as he pants softly. Another moment, just long enough for him to decide to do something incredibly stupid, before he's leaning over to her ear. He can't look at her while he does this.
"I love you." Confessed softly, barely above the pitter-pattering of the shower. His heart is thundering in his chest and somehow this is the scariest thing he's done all day. Half a second and he doesn't let her go, doesn't let her wiggle away. If he does, he might lose her. "I-I know it's fast. But you keep.. I needed you to know. You don't have to say it back." The end is tacked on for his own heart more than her's.
Their eyes meet and she's about to reach up to cup his cheek, to run her thumb across his skin, but he's suddenly moving with intention. He curls himself over her, drawing her into his embrace as if he can shut the rest of the world out and keep her safe by doing so, but that's not all as his lips find hers. The first kiss is sharp. Sudden. It startles a soft sound of surprise from her, rising in her throat even as her eyes flutter shut, lips parting to deepen the kiss automatically. They kiss until their lungs are burning. Until they can't stay together any longer. It aches so sweetly and she never wants it to end, but he draws back from the embrace, dropping his head to press against the side of her own.
His words warm her skin more than the water does, pulse suddenly rocketing into a staccato, drowning out everything else except for his words. Her breath catches in her throat and she wants to draw back so she can look at him. She wants to see his face, but he holds her tightly in place, not giving her any room to move as he keeps talking. Maeve tightens her own grip on him, drawing in a sharp breath, trying to stop her head from spinning. He loves her. He doesn't just care about her. He doesn't just want her in his bed or in his home. No, it's more than that. He loves her and she loves him too. In her gut she knows it. Knows that the fear she felt when he wasn't here was more than just a passing feeling. It had been fully body dread, freezing her insides and making her sick to think that he might not come back to her.
"I love you too." Maeve whispers back, the words just as quiet as his were, pressed into his skin as she buries her face against his neck. The water has gone cold, making her skin numb, but all she feels is warmth.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
He doesn't let her go but he does push her back a tad, reaching past her to turn the water off. He lets her words settle into his bones, under his skin. He has no reason to not believe her. No reason to feel the sudden fight or flight response he gets. But it ebbs away like the last tendrils of soot from their skin. He gives her another kiss, finally pulling away to look at her. Her hair curls just a bit when it's wet and it clings to her face. Her eyes are heavy with sleep and she looks as exhausted as he feels. And she's all the more beautiful for it.
That tight chest feeling, the love he's been denying himself, comes back again as he tries to hold this moment in his head. And then he laughs because he's tired and he's been so fucking worried but she's right here. This time she was the one waiting for him to stop being so stupid, wasn't she? "Fuck, Mae. If anything would've happened to you.." The Slagveld burning would've looked like a match.
He presses one last kiss to her nose before stepping out of the shower and gingerly taking a towel. He dries what he can of his hands, leaving little red pinpricks on the towel. At least it's not one of Maeve's good towels.. "There's a first aid kit under the counter. Should have bandages.. If I remembered to put any in it last time.." He's pretty sure he did.
