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!
Was he doing well? Was he doing poorly? Sam wished he knew. Every day seemed to provide a brand new 'new normal', another mood and another outlook at the future that loomed over them all, and he had no idea if he was coping with it or not. On the one hand, he found that he was surprisingly not all that panicked. On the other, he was desperately stopping himself from even considering what was to come for fear of losing his mind for good.
Walks. Walks helped, they were easy and solitary and quiet.
Torchline at night was a special kind of quiet, the sound of the sea gently rushing and disappearing on the sand enough to calm any nerves he did have; Sam stood and looked out to sea. It seemed, when he looked at the moon and the stars and their reflection, white and shaking in the water, the world was fine. He felt a frustration he often did, that they couldn't just fix it all and enjoy the moon.
He sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. One day, he'd know how it all ended, but that wasn't today. Sam turned to go home, walking slowly along the beach, the footprints in various directions around him betraying how long he'd been pacing around on the sand.
Part of being alive is wishing that you weren't sometimes
even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
"Bold, to return to the scene of the crime."
What brings Amalia to the Ahi Coast? Maybe it's insomnia, the nighttime ramblings of the haunted bones tied to a haunted mind. Maybe it's because she misses the ocean - maybe it's because she fears it. Maybe her sense of unaddressed injustice created a beacon between herself and Sam, drawing her here through dreams and darkness, compelled and impelled by things left unsaid.
Whatever the reason, here Amalia is. She appears like the avenging angel she is, wings spread, a halo of wrath casting shadows through the thorns in her hair. She appears in a pop and a flash of bright light, manifesting before the Ascended in a blink. She appears like lighting before the thunder, her glare as harsh as the summer sun as it settles on her brother. She appears like a child, enraged and alone, standing against an insurmountable world, her hands at her sides and her chin upturned as she waits for defense to drop from his lips.
She appears in the guise of many things, and none of them are chill.
As soon as he heard her voice, before he even understood it, Sam activated his shield; an instinct. Amalia had long been one of the judging voices in his nightmares and the back of his mind, a constant figure of fear and the general judgement of the Old Gods in his imagination. Taking a couple of steps away from her as the words began to settle in his head, at first he was confused - then oh.
"You don't understand. You wouldn't understand if I told you anyway." Would she even care that he had been sick, half-delirious? The Blight had caused people to act in many similar ways, but he doubted Amalia would attack them for their actions. He wasn't strong enough to say any of this though, a lot of his energy going into simply not shaking before her, looking like a righteous soldier for the Gods that wanted him dead.
Glancing over in the direction of the portal, he held his hands up. "Just...just let me walk back home, and um- and we can avoid this."
Part of being alive is wishing that you weren't sometimes
even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
"What don't I understand, Sam?" Bare feet touch down on the sand; the wings remain boldly outstretched as Amalia stares back at her brother, dark eyes hard and unforgiving in their rage. A rage which masks something more, something vulnerable and sad - because once, Amalia had believed that she and Sam could be, if not friends, then family, real family.
But Sam had chosen his side once and for all, and the divide between the siblings that had once nearly mended now stretches endless and sharp and dark.
She doesn't advance, but neither does she stand down or show any sign of intending to let him leave. When she speaks again her voice is soft, almost gentle, the tone one might use with a confused child. "You killed someone, Sam. What more is there to understand? You went back to your goddess, and you lost control, and now someone is dead."
It became very apparent within a few words that Sam was not going to get away as easy as he had hoped; it seemed Amalia was not content with seeing him sneak away into the darkness. No, she wanted retribution, her own brand of white-hot justice - did that come in the form of his life? Would she rest when he was spread out on the rocks like James had been? His shield stayed determinedly up, his only line of defense.
The part of him that was cautious and sensible wanted to stay quiet, to see if she'd grow bored with no response, but the words she chose, as always, irked him enough to provoke: "So you'd rather I died, then? That was what was happening, Amalia. I was dying, and I was scared. Yes, I went back to her. I'd like to know what you'd have had me do." Sam wondered if she'd say it outright. That she would rather have a dead brother than an Ascended one.
As for a man being dead...well, he couldn't deny it, there was no point. "I...I can't...make it right. I was ill and it went too far - he asked me to bite. It just...it was an accident."
Part of being alive is wishing that you weren't sometimes
even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
Maybe Sam wants his words to hurt her. Maybe he intends to slap her with them, to challenge her morals with his little jab. Did she want him to die? Of course not, but...
(Did she want Adam to stay dead? Would it be better not to have him, then to have come so close---?)
"You could have had faith," she says instead, her voice soft, hard, as hot as molten steel. "You could have given me a chance to try, instead of, of..."
Instead of reaching for a half-life. Instead of chaining yourself to something that will always keep you away from me.
At least Adam hadn't known. That's all Amalia can think in this moment, the rage she clings to as her heartbeat quickens, as tears briefly blur Sam's figure into a very different man. Adam, who had always shone so brightly, life in every gesture and breath; Adam, who had come like a whirlwind into her life, a gust of air disturbing the dusty alcoves of her soul. What was Sam, compared to that?
What right did Sam have to beg her forgiveness, when she had denied the same to him?
"You ran," she murmurs in that same soft tone, and takes a step forward in the sand. "Why run, if you were innocent? Why leave his body to rot in the sun, throat torn out as the smell of his blood brought in more predators like you?"
Another step, her voice growing harder. "And what do you think it was that made you ill? What gave you the blight that caused you such madness you'd kill and flee like an animal? Did you ever stop to think about where something so unnatural might have come from? Something wrong and destructive, like you?"
Had faith. As if faith in Gods that didn't even care about his plight would have stayed his death. As if he'd had the time to wait about on faith to deliver. Were Amalia anyone else, Sam would have scoffed.
Unawares of the comparisons happening in Amalia's mind, Sam could only stand there and take her words. They did hurt, and in a way she was right; he had not given James a dignified death. There were excuses for that: he had been sick, confused and scared and he wouldn't have known what to do anyway, but the fact remained that he had left the man there on the rocks. That much as true, and he did not open his mouth to deny it.
Then her words took on a considerably more abusive tone, became simple insults and anger and he realised, all of a sudden, that he didn't want to argue it. In a way, this was a microcosm of the conflict at large, and Sam knew that the Demi-Goddess outpowered him. More importantly, he knew she'd never back down.
Time to see just how devoted she was, then. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, then deactivated his shield. "So what do you want to do about it, Amalia? Kill me? I'm here, I'm unarmed. Go ahead."
Part of being alive is wishing that you weren't sometimes
even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
He makes no response to the truths she shares - why would he, blind as he is? Of course, she thinks, he doesn't want to acknowledge that it was his precious Mother who cast the blight upon them all; of course he focuses instead on a threat she never made, an action she cannot take.
But she wants to. Oh, how she wants to. Amalia has been a predator since she Attuned, and it is that predatory nature that rises now, like a growl in her throat. She can feel the leopardess clawing within her, telling her to take her own teeth and rip his throat out, to show him how it feels. His is a false life, after all: to end that can hardly be considered to kill. Another step forward in the sand and he's in reach, and how easy would it be to just reach out with claws and fury and crush his heart---
She reaches into the bracer on her wrist. There's a flash of light on metal, and Nova is there, pressed gently but firmly against her brother's throat. Bathed in the red light of the antlers and the glow of her halo, it is not anger that paints Amalia's face. The eyes that search for Sam's are tired, sad, resigned to what must come next. They are hard, but they are mournful - mournful for what could have been, what will never be.
"I will not kill you tonight," Amalia murmurs from behind the blade, "But I won't let you escape justice, either. I am going to bring you before the Queens of Torchline. They may decide what the life you took is worth."
While Sam had genuinely meant what he'd said, while he had truly deactivated his shield, there had been a part of him sure that Amalia would never even come close to taking his life. That his sister was too good, ultimately, for that - even if she thought it would save others. But then there was the flash of metal, the cold against his neck; he felt his heart sink into his stomach. Was this really it?
Finally, she relieved his panic; a new kind of dread filled him, but it was not as heavy. Sam looked back into her eyes, his own hard and determined, evidence of the new man he'd become in the last year. "Alright then. Take me. Maybe they will listen better than you." He would put up no resistance to Amalia's restraints; after all, he'd met Maeve. He was reasonably sure she'd be sympathetic to his tale, once told correctly and without bias.
Part of being alive is wishing that you weren't sometimes
even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
She almost wishes he had panicked, had fought back and tried to escape. Would she have let him? She doesn't know, but this, this... she was not prepared for. Even though it is justice, what she wanted, what he deserved, Amalia feels confliction rising and strangling in her throat. He was sick, he was her brother, he didn't know better, he had no choice, she loved him---
Again the faces blur in her mind; again she has to blink away the memory of what she's lost. She hadn't sacrificed her convictions for Adam. She will not do so for Sam.
"Maybe now you'll finally face the consequences of your actions."
Nova is sheathed, replaced by shackles of hard light that clasp around his wrists. Amalia takes position behind her brother, glad to walk in back, to have a chance to school her expression and hide her trembling hands. "Let's go," she directs the bookseller softly, leading him toward Haulani.
