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!
Her feet feel like lead. Heavy, cumbersome in a way that shoes will never feel again. Wessex could break many-a-thing with a solid stomp at this point, but the dread that her ability to step down might be in jeopardy is something else entirely. The fear that Isla may not share the same view and that she may not entirely trust Bastien to lead by himself simmers, just below a boil, somewhere in her chest. And what then? Go ahead with it? Take it back?
To delay the conversation would only be detrimental and all too soon the Wraith finds herself at the Infirmary. Signs of the fire mar the edges of the door, streaks of soot and smoke darker than the wood itself. Wessex knocks a couple times and peeks her head around the frame, looking for a blonde head.
“Isla?” she calls. “It’s Wessex.”
And it occurs to her, briefly, that she's only been in here once or twice. Feels like she's in almost foreign territory.
It might well feel that way to Wessex - because it almost feels like it to Isla too, at the moment. With the infirmary all but rebuilt from the inside, she's still getting used to the subtle changes, the newness of the furniture and the supplies, and so when the Wraith does walk inside it will be to see Isla leaning down behind the reception desk, searching for a file she was sure had been in her office not a day ago. "Hm?" The blonde head Wessex is searching for pops up soon enough, Isla offering her a polite and sunny smile - it's only sunny because of the file that also appears with her, safely in hand.
"Good evening, Wessex," she greets. "Is there anything I can do for you?" A medic's eye appraises the other woman fleetingly and, finding no immediate signs of injury or urgency on the Wraith's part, assumes that she isn't here for medical attention. Not unless there is some poor soul collapsed outside the infirmary doors that she needs to know about, anyway.
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
It does look new, and that in turn sparks some guilt about the whole ordeal. Worrying the inside of her mouth, Wessex eyes the redone are with appropriate appreciation until Isla pops into the front.
“Actually, yes,” she tries to reply with a matching smile, failing in its brightness because of the natural differences in their characters. Isla will likely always be better suited to making people feel at home, and safe in her presence. The Wraith must work much harder at it - even here, in the other’s space. “I was hoping you had time for a chat. If not now, I can come back when you aren’t busy.”
Which she hopes implies that this is rather important and is better done sooner rather than later.
Isla gets the implication very easily - Wessex has never come for a chat before now, which gives the idea of importance and urgency all by itself. "I can make time," she assures her, nodding and waving her through to follow the medic into the infirmary proper. "I'm always busy to some extent, so it's best to try and rearrange time to suit," she explains, smiling over her shoulder and leading the Wraith to a closed door to one side of the ward.
Unlocking it and opening it up, she gestures for Wessex to step into her office. It's a bare space, currently, with only a desk and a bookshelf and a couple of chairs; the comfortable nook she'd created for herself had become nothing more than ash, and it would take time to build those memories again.
She sets the folder she's found on the desk and clicks the door shut behind them. "What's on your mind?"
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
From one busy woman to another, the Queen can appreciate the effort to make time and offers a genuine smile. “Thanks. Hopefully it won’t take too long.”
She follows Isla into the sparse office, not taking much note of the lack of comfort in it. Her mind is elsewhere, pondering how best to start. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, Wessex leans back a bit and tries to ground herself, determined to start with something positive. “Bastien told me you’ve agreed to a leadership position with him when I step down, and my gut is really glad you said yes.”
And here’s where it gets tricky, doesn’t it? There’s a bit of a pause a hitch in a proverbial breath, before Wessex continues. “But the Voice mentioned something to me and I have to follow up before any announcements are made. I’m sorry to ask like this and I'vee nothing against him. Your relationship with Remi - how do you reconcile his role as Ludo’s chosen with your potential role in protecting the Ascended race?”
Hands clasped in her lap, Wessex seems far more worried than anything else, pale blue eyes never leaving Isla’s face.
Honestly, if the discussion hadn't been about leadership Isla would have been surprised, and as she leans back against the desk, she can only smile to the Wraith, offering a gentle nod. "I confess I am not much of a public speaker," she murmurs, "so hopefully Bastien is able to take care of that side of things. I hear that you will be staying on as a General of sorts?" At least that had been the initial discussions she'd heard. Things change so quickly these days though, Isla finds.
Just like now. Somewhat stunned by the turn in conversation, Isla blinks and parts her lips as if to speak, before thinking better of it. Clearing her throat, she sags further against the desk. "Is there really all that much to reconcile?" she wonders, softly. "Remi is my best friend, and I don't think he would ever hurt me. But he's also Ludo's chosen, and I am an Ascended. If he was told to wipe out all of the Ascended... there is nothing I would be able to do to stop him, if that is what he decided."
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
Humming a quiet confirmation, Wessex nods once. “That’s right. Things are shifting and it looks like I need to be more… mobile. The Grounds deserves a leader - or two - who can give it its full attention. I can’t be that person, and honestly, I’m a far better weapon than diplomat.” Hard and honest, but not too self-deprecating, she current Queen offers a little more insight into her decision. She genuinely believes the people will love Isla and Bastien (hopefully) in a way they don’t love Wessex. She can focus her energy where it’s most effective… really a win-win situation, if it can come to pass.
Ack. The sag. Bad start, Wessex.
“I’m sorry, I’m not - not so good at this.” Frowning, more at herself than anything else, she tries to start again. “I need to know where you stand, wherever that is. We just completed the Quest to keep the Order out, but Remi is a lot harder.” And neither of them are foolish enough to think he’ll keep any information from Ronin. “He’s stronger than me, I’m pretty damn sure. Not trying to imply that you’d tell him anything, but he could pick something up just by being here. Especially if you have important information.” And here’s the kicker, because Wessex has just realized that Isla isn’t aware of Remi’s weakness.
“But most importantly, because you might be the only one who could stop him. Apparently he can be killed by someone he loves.”
"I am sure you are more than just a weapon, Wessex," Isla says with a kind smile, though the medic can admit that they all have their strengths. Bastien is a better diplomat, Isla has a better bedside manner, and Wessex, as it happens, is a better weapon than the rest of them. And as the conversation takes a turn so does Isla's smile, turning sad, though she shakes her head to Wessex. "It's hardly your fault," she murmurs. "I imagine these conversations aren't something to look forward to."
Where does she stand, though? "I am not a soldier," she says, "and I detest the idea of a war. I will never go looking for blood. But I have been in wars before, as a field medic. And if a fight lands on my doorstep, I will be there to patch up soldiers as best I can, as I always have." Will Isla fight in the literal sense? No. Will Isla fight, to keep others safe and to keep them on their feet? Yes.
But none of that really helps when it comes to Remi. On the contrary, though - Isla is full aware of what she is to the Lullaby that haunts the Hollowed Grounds. "I know," she says softly, easily. "He told me when I first came back. But there's a difference between can and will. I can kill Remi, because he wouldn't fight me. And I won't kill Remi, because I love him."
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
It’s comforting to feel like someone understands the weight placed on her (and if she thinks about it later, Wessex might not find it so surprising - after all, Remi is her self-professed best friend. Surely they’d had conversations about the pros and cons of demigodhood and the fealties that come with it). She can only shake her head a bit and shrug, grateful to not have to continue to explain herself.
“Okay, got it.” It’s a clarification she needs to check off, understanding the distinction of being part of the team, but not part of the violence. “I can work with that.”
Her boundaries around Remi are more of a disappointment, but the Wraith opts to continue to step lightly, hoping that maybe the Voice could work her magic on the medic instead. “And what about keeping him out of the Grounds? Or helping us find a way to keep him out? Can you still put the Ascended first, if we find a way to work around the not-killing thing?”
"I am glad to hear it. Would that no one would get hurt, but as time goes on, I am not so naive to imagine peace will be easily gained in the near future." And so the only ones who end up hurt are those who dreamed of peace to begin with. Still, her answer is given, and Isla breathes a sigh of relief to know that it is enough for the Wraith. "Granted," she adds, "it would be much easier to ensure there is a place for the injured to come, if I weren't worried someone would burn this palce down again."
It's still a niggling thought that she hates going back to. It's something that has her haunting the corridors of the infirmary at night, when she is best suited for quiet study or reading, or making bandages. The thought of anyone creeping around the place, setting alight to her patients and her equipment... that is enough, perhaps, to inspire violence even in the gentle medic.
Back to Remi, though. She doesn't like the idea of it, of not being able to see him, but she can't help but observe things in a pragmatic light. "He helped to rebuild this infirmary," she says quietly, as if the defence would mean anything. "And he helped after the fire. But... yes. I can speak to him, of course. And if that isn't enough, I won't stand in the way of efforts to try and keep the Ascended safe within the Grounds."
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
“No, it won’t. Not when the Gods themselves want this war and egg it on. We can only do our best to prepare.” And how she hates them sometimes, even the Voice, even with everything the Goddess has done for her. Is it better, this ‘freedom’ if it comes at such a cost? Wessex would still be the first in line to throw a middle finger (and a knife) at the heralds, but if someone had told her that bringing down the barrier would do this to the world, she might - might - have chosen differently. Big maybe there.
“Maybe the next quest should be to make the Grounds’ buildings fire-proof. So nothing like that can happen again.” And more importantly, so its highly-flammable inhabitants won’t be at the mercy of fire-breathing dragons and torches and angry Sparkbirds. “But that’ll be your call, I think.”
Which is to say that Wessex accepts Isla’s word for now. Not standing in the way isn’t the same as helping; it isn’t ideal, but maybe as time goes on, she’ll see the light. Sam had taken a long time to come ‘round, but there is progress…
"Mm. And sometimes the preparation is the worst part," Isla admits with a small shrug and a wry smile. The prepping, the waiting, the not knowing whether you've done enough and not being able to anticipate what you might have forgotten until it shows up bleeding on your doorstep. At least when war does hit, it's all consuming. There's precious little time for regrets.
Isla lets out a mirthless laugh to hear Wessex's suggestion for their next request from the Voice, and she offers a nod in response. "Yes, I suppose it would be my call. Well, mine and Bastien's," she says. "I can't deny that it would be useful. We'll have to put it to the people, though. See what everyone thinks." It was the best way to go about things, so she'd seen in the past.
She doesn't expect the offer to ask questions in return, the medic smiling gratefully. "Well... I suppose my first question would be about when you plan to hand things over to us," she says. "And if you have any suggestion about where it would be best to conduct matters, that would be helpful as well."
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
See, she’s got the hang of it already, what with the checking in to see what the residents want to do and everything. Even as the Wraith begins to wonder what she’ll do abut Remi, her mind eases regarding the Grounds’ immediate future.
“As soon as possible. I’ve already got a handful of things on my plate for the Voice, but if you need time to transition or prepare, I can wait. You’re also welcome to use my house for meetings if you want. I plan on moving out as soon as we can get another training area built.” Which should really be higher on her to-do list. Now that she’s said it out loud, Wessex bumps the task up a few places and makes a note to reach out to Azrael and see if they’re back in the area yet.
“Speaking of the Voice, though…” leaning forward a bit, she digs into a potentially touchy situation that’s been on her mind. “How do we do this? Do I need to come to you for approval on things, or just let you know, or try to keep General-ish things separate from demigod things…? It might be good for you and Bastien to think on that. Just in case.”
"Oh - I see." Isla blinks, having been expecting it to be soon, honestly, but this is a little bit of a surprise. "That's very kind of you, and it may be easier for everyone if we continue to meet in the same place, at least for the time being." Suddenly this all feels very real, but Isla can only nod to Wessex. "Whenever you are ready, then. We can wait for your notice to go up on the Notice Board, and then Bastien and I can meet and take it from there."
As for what Wessex says next, Isla gives it some food for thought, her brows furrowing as she considers the pros and cons. "If it will directly impact the Hollowed Grounds, I think it would be good to have a discussion, so we can understand," she says slowly. "And if it is just about the war, I think we can all agree that it's best to keep all of the Ascended informed of those sorts of things, even if that's all it is - information. Does that make sense?"
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
