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!
There are a number of newly Ascended wandering around and Wessex has done a piss-poor job of welcoming them, learning about them, making sure they knew they were part of a family. There are certain responsibilities that she hopes to instill, certain feelings she wants known. Expectations. Yes, there are expectations and she hopes that this new crop of brothers and sisters will be more willing to help than the last.
So far, at least, Ophelia had not disappointed the Queen. If anything, she imagines that she might have disappointed them with the lack of follow-through.
Do their clothes still need replacing? Shaking her head once again at the image of the blood-stained shift, Wessex goes about collecting both dresses and pants and shirts, not knowing what they might like or incline themselves to. The garments aren’t particularly bold or flashy items, but they are sturdy and well-made and will hopefully protect the young Ascended if they make it out into the sun.
Ophelia? she calls quietly at dusk to extend an invitation to their youngest sibling. I know I’m a little late, but I have some clothes for you, if you’d like to come by Theskyra House.
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Ophelia is not burdened by their solitude. It is freeing in many ways. Though their house had been filled with ghosts by the end, silent in terms of sound, they had still been forced into the confines of the walls. Never free to see the sky beyond chores. Little more than a ghost.
Though many may say they have won their freedom at the cost of their humanity, Ophelia sees only a life free of hardship and suffering. An eternity rolling out before them as a long-awaited reward for their trials. So they have not forgotten Wessex, no, but they are not bothered by the time they have been given to figure out themself. To discover who Ophelia is.
When the call comes, Ophelia jolts, surprise flickering over wraithlike features. Then a radiant smile lights up their face. Of course sister. I am on my way. And they are - practically skipping as they turn for Theskyra House. Running is a delight they have discovered of late now that they are free of weak lungs and faltering stamina. It is a childish sort of fun that Ophelia happily indulges in, arriving at the door windswept and bright in the fading light of dusk. Knocking and then opening the door boldly, Phi steps inside and closes it behind them, curious pale blues scouting the entry. "Wessex?"
Say my name and every color illuminates We are shining - and we will never be afraid again
“Up here,” Wessex calls from a room off the top of the stairs that lead to the second floor. A pair of dragon-eyes peer down at the guest from between the rails of the landing bannister as Loki peers down at the younger Ascended. Trilling a soft greeting, the companion isn’t partial to the kind of fuss her bonded is making now, but she’s also not quite ready to leave to hunt for the night, so here she stays, watching the hullabaloo with a bored, half-dozing expression.
If Ophelia comes up to the landing and into the bedroom on the immediate left, they’ll find that there are four or five sets of clothing laid out on a bed, two sets of shoes, and a cloak. Enough to get them going, keep them protected from the sun and other elements. “I wasn’t sure of anything, so there’s some variety. You’re welcome to all of it or none of it, whatever you like.”
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Ophelia’s strangely large eyes meet the draconian pair, and widen with childlike amazement. Such creatures are known to them theoretically, but never seen in person. Animals more along the lines of livestock than mythical creatures. Without need to blink, they ascend the stairs while watching Loki, hungrily taking in the creature’s appearance as if to commit to it memory. The trill of creating is mimicked in human vocals, trying to respectfully communicate in the dragon’s own language despite being aware they will likely fall hilariously short.
Only when they reach the landing does Ophelia’s attention turn to Wessex - and the clothes that are laid neatly on the bed. Ophelia blinks, and a slow smile begins to blossom on their pale lips. Moving closer on slow, quiet feet, Ophelia extends a hand to gently touch the fabric on the bed. There is nothing to feel, but the motion itself is reverent.
“I have never been given a gift before,” they murmur serenely, something pleased and touched dawning on their face. On birthdays they would get a small extra bit of food, or perhaps fewer chores, but that was all they could afford. Turning back to Wessex, they blink rapidly, a little overwhelmed by the sudden emotion that swells in them. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.” Certainly not for Ophelia, who needs so little compared to their other siblings.
Say my name and every color illuminates We are shining - and we will never be afraid again
No gifts? Ever? That revelation alone makes Wessex sad, though she struggles to hide her pity for them. Pity won’t fix their past. Pity does nothing for the proud Grounders other than turn them against the one doing the pitying. So the Queen (at this point, still) tries to mask it in a smile, stepping back to watch them and taking a bit of joy in (what seems like) their delight. It’s hard to tell, honestly.
“Then there’s no time like the present, hmm?” Loki takes this time to saunter in and see what’s going on between the two of them, sauntering across the floor, more like a cat than a dragon, chirping again at the waif. “Besides, what good is being a Queen if I can’t call in a few favors every now and then?”
Leaning against a side table, her arms cross casually over her chest and she meanders on. “Have you thought about what you want to do now? With your Ascension, I mean?”
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Struggle she does, but it is not a slight when Ophelia realizes what emotion it is that flickers in the crevices of Wessex’s sharp features. Instead they smile, nose wrinkling and eyes squinting as if every muscle has devoted itself to the act now they finally have reason to smile after so many years. Ice shard eyes drift down to Loki as she saunters in, and as if incapable of leaving the noise unanswered chirps back in imitation just as before.
Nimble pale fingers pluck one of the dresses, and hesitate moments before pressing it to their front, realizing belatedly their current garment is still stained. Moments later it is discarded over their head, no sense of shame or self-consciousness in their body even in front of their queen. The new dress is slipped on, and Ophelia gives a twist of their hips to send the hem twirling, grinning down at it and listening with one ear as Wessex speaks.
Turning, their hands smooth the fabric around their ribs. “I considered for years what it is I’d like to do,” they start, a hand lifting to free their vision, unnervingly unblinking as it is. Ascension hadn’t been the origin of that habit, but it had certainly worsened it. “I would like to be an emissary. Spreading word, compiling accounts in written form. But I have spoken to Mabel of training -” amongst stacks of vellum and ink, hands tearing and desecrating freely, “- and realized I am quite unassuming. I have few moral qualms that keep me from killing and harming those who would hurt us.” It is spoken with a startling frankness, which only lends credence to the words themselves. “I would have to learn more than basic wielding of tools, but we have all the time in the world.” No need to sleep, eat, and only basic rest and refueling.
Say my name and every color illuminates We are shining - and we will never be afraid again
Averting her gaze in a gesture that isn’t prudish, but respectful, Wessex waits for them to settle themselves into the new piece of clothing. And the twist, it sends her back into the past for a moment, back to watching someone else who liked to wear dresses, someone else thankful for a gift. It’s been too long since she’s given anything but weapons or advice or death. A pleasant warmth seeps into her, something internally fueled.
Loki, whatever she thinks, heads towards the stained shift that now lies in a barely-there pile on the floor, the people forgotten for now.
“An emissary?” the Queen echoes, tilting her head with a curious kind of consideration. Such a fancy word for an unassuming person. She isn’t one to tell her siblings how to live their lives (well, that’s not entirely true), but Ophelia might be a little too late. Wessex’s gaze grows momentarily distant as her lips purse, mulling something through.
“Well, we have more than a few people who’d be happy to help you learn to fight, that’s not a problem. But are you - aware of the state of things outside the Grounds? The way lines are being drawn and the choices being made - and how?”
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
