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!
where'er the goddess turns her melancholy gaze, Man his loathsomeness displays
Anju is not a regular attendant of church, rarely steps through the Temple doors when daylight still lingers. She is a woman of faith, but she practices in a world of her own, wherever she can avoid other humans and their convoluted ways. Socialization is far from a skill she has in her arsenal.
Unfortunately today she is on a mission, one that had warranted returning to Stormbreak for supplies and, well. This.
This being books, the few they have. Stormbreak has libraries, but those cater to the advancements the modern land prioritize, the education and rounding of their youth. Information that is not relevant to the mission Ludo has set before her.
Riya curls like a content, lazy cat on one of the pews, tail draping off the side and trailing on the ground as the dragon dozes lightly. It’s the best for all involved; if Riya is to be in the temple at all, Anju would rather she be asleep instead of causing a ruckus, as is her natural state.
Anju gives a frustrated exhale when the tome in her hand fails to do anything but decry the Ascended. It’s not as if she doesn’t agree, but it’s impassioned, not factual or even analytical. Not what she’s seeking. Shutting the cover a little too hard and wincing at the echo, Anju slips the tome back onto the shelf and gives a frazzled overview of the shelf once more.
The Temple is a quiet place when Gideon isn't preaching - usually, anyway. So it stands to reason that the echoing thud! of a book slamming shut would catch the one-time librarian's attention. Frowning in consternation, the girl tucks her own tome beneath her shoulder and goes in search of the offending individual, expecting a child or teen.
Instead, she sees Anju.
"Hey, you shouldn't- oh. Hi." All the edges of her voice grow dull as Amalia rounds the corner, stopping short a few lengths from the Dragoon. Nervously the Shield fidgets, tucking her book more securely beneath her arm. There's something in the tall, stern woman that makes Amalia feel young, small. "Sorry, I thought... Did, um, did you need help finding something?"
where'er the goddess turns her melancholy gaze, Man his loathsomeness displays
Reprimand isn’t unexpected, though a grimace appears in place of sheepishness when a voice cuts in to do so. Turning, her ruby-shot irises land on the woman that has come to her side, and broad shoulders relax from where they had tightened up to her ears like a scolded child.
“Archangel,” she greets, voice smooth and deep. Turning a disgruntled look back to the books at the demigod’s query, Anju gives a brisk exhale through her nose that’s as close to a sigh as she’ll get. “Do you know of any recorded literature on Ascended souls? These books are impassioned but…useless.” Concise as ever, she turns fully to face Amalia, hands braced on her hips as if staring down a problem is a viable solution.
Amalia's nose wrinkles at the formality of being addressed as Archangel. It's not a title she feels she deserves, but Anju's lustrous voice stills any protest that stirs upon her tongue. There's something deeply familiar and intimidating about this woman; Amalia finds herself both afraid and entranced, transported back to a lifetime ago, when a similar woman was similarly brusque.
The choice of reading is unexpected, and Amalia perks up with curious interest, beginning to rack her brain. "Not so much- I've been looking, but nothing I've found says more than what I already know." She adjusts the book in her arms, moving it over her chest like a shield. "Though Gideon has a private collection he keeps in the steeple... So maybe there?"
where'er the goddess turns her melancholy gaze, Man his loathsomeness displays
Mahogany irises dip to the wrinkle in the Angel’s nose, one dark brow rising almost imperceptibly. Curious. Not that she’s the type of woman to comment on it, but it’s something to file away somewhere in the extensive library of her mind. One the woman may share of her piqued interest and brief mention of similar inclinations issues any clue.
Anju folds her arms, well-muscled forearms flexing as she cocks her hip to the side, giving a small grunt of consideration. “What is it you know?” Grimacing when she realizes how that sounded, Anju’s skin turns rich with a flush. “If you would share. Gideon and I are not…close.” Easier than telling the demigoddess of life that she’d nearly killed the man for meddling with Ascended fluid and enraging a spirit. Glancing around belatedly and wondering if they should move somewhere more comfortable - or private, depending on the information Amalia might have - Anju hesitates before deciding she will leave that up to the Archangel.
If Amalia is offended by the pointed question, she doesn't show it - and she would, the demigoddess' expressions rarely anything resembling schooled. But her face remains fixed in curious interest, her head tilting as she licks her bottom lip in thought. That Gideon isn't close to Anju doesn't go unnoticed; Amalia snorts, the ghost of a laugh, and slightly rolls her eyes.
There's more important things at hand, however. "Well... I'm not really sure they have souls, not the way that we do." Sighing, she runs a finger over the cover of the book she holds, the movement unconscious and soothing. "I know that when they die their souls - what's left of them - go elsewhere, not to Mort. And I, I think that they go to the Core - that it's powered by them. But I don't know for sure."
She glances back at Anju, expression troubled. "Nobody's seen the Core since it escaped the Spire, though. At least, not that I'm aware of."
