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!
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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!
And just like that, he's back in Torchline. Still the same except totally different. Maeve and Aurelia are the rulers, there's the Court of Stars, and he's sure more will change over the coming seasons. Especially with the baby. No more running off and following his whims. He's gotta be responsible for once in his fucking life.
So here he is, sitting on the beach in his little spot, midway through his third bottle of booze and staring into the sunset. He's not drunk yet and that's a problem. He's going to go talk to Maeve in the morning, just one last night of whatever this is. Freedom from responsibilities? Maybe. He takes another swig of the bottle he's holding, arms propped on his knees as he tries to think but finds himself getting nowhere.
Even for as cool as the evenings are in Torchline and as cold as the nights can get, he thinks he's gonna sleep out here. His shirt is loose but knitted, warm as are his pants. He's not sure he can handle going back to the apartment right now. He's been once, just to get a few things and to change clothes but being there reminds him too much of her so here he is. Another swig off the bottle and he sighs, head dipping down to rest on his arm. When did things get so complicated?
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
He was back. Maeve knew he was back. She knew it as soon as the letter from Jack arrived. It took everything not to go find him then and there, but there had been work to be done. A job to do. A region to run. She couldn't just rush off. So she waited. Maeve had her meeting with Jack. She ate dinner. She read. She did so much to keep from wandering to his apartment, but in the end, that pull she felt to seek him out won.
She goes to his apartment first only to find it still empty. Still cold with that lingering feeling of him despite the fact that it isn't anymore. Maeve lets her feet carry her then as she does most nights. She's still not sleeping well despite the bone weary exhaustion that seems to cling to her, sinking deep into the marrow of her being, begging her to give in to sleep. It never comes. The unknown keeps her from settling. Where did they stand now? Did he still want to do this? Did he want her? How much was he going to be around?
All of these questions burn behind her eyes, buzzing angrily around her skull, refusing to be quiet for even a second. She has answers for none of them and she simply can't take it anymore.
Aidon wings his way ahead of her, keeping an eye out as she loses herself to her thoughts as she so often does, arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Her sandals held loosely by two fingers as she walks, feet shifting the sand beneath them, using muscles in a way that's so familiar she doesn't have to think about it anymore. Instead she practically drifts across the sand, unaware that she's drawing closer to their spot, the very spot that Locke is hiding away from the world. The chilly ocean breeze nips at her skin, tousling her curls and bringing goosebumps forward to prickle across her arms.
Despite how lost in her head she is, her heart tugs her towards Locke, an invisible string keeping them together despite everything and drawing her ever closer to his hiding place.
He finishes the third bottle, swirling that last little drop he can't get out for a moment before tucking it into the sand next to him with the others. He's nowhere near drunk but the booze helps sooth his mood. The familiar weight it brings to him. He's about to light a cigarette when he spots a familiar dragon. The sight of Aidon makes him inhale sharply. Suppose if he wasn't going to look for her, she was going to come looking for him. Or maybe the young dragon is acting alone, about to rip his throat out. What a weird thing that would be.
His jaw clenches, flexing as he thinks. She hasn't said anything to him yet so he's not sure if she even realizes he's there. If only he knew he could sneak away. Except, he promised her they would talk about this when he got back and there's no real point in avoiding it anymore. He puts the unlight cigarette in one of the empty bottles and cracks open a fourth. Locke takes a long drink before turning to look at her.
"Probably shouldn't be wandering around all pregnant and political target-like, ya know." There's no malice to his words and as far as he can tell, Torchline is the least likely to be targeted at the moment. But still, he's gotta worry about her and his kid, right?For a moment, he thinks he should stand but he doesn't, just twisting to watch her. "What're you even doin' out here? S'late." He doesn't want to think that maybe she comes here because she misses him. He doesn't want her to miss him.
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
Aidon sees Locke first and he tries to notify Maeve, sending flashes and a mix of emotions along their bond, attempting to bring her from her thoughts. It doesn't work. The only thing that does is the sound of Locke's voice. Aidon lands ahead of her, circling her legs as she comes to a stop, pressing heavily against her side in support. A hand comes down to the top of his had, resting lightly there as her other arm remains tucked around her middle, covering the hidden swell of her stomach. "Just because I'm queen doesn't mean I can't take a walk on a beach that I've known since I was a girl."
Maeve murmurs, her voice not sounding like her own despite that it very much is, a wave of something that she can't quite place washing over her. It feels like there is cotton in her head, stuffed full and struggling to comprehend that he's even here before her, a sheen of discoloration clinging to the world before her. Bare feet come to a stop, toes digging in the sand, but she barely registers the warmth. "Hm?" She blinks slowly, dazedly, jade eyes almost glazed as they slip to him.
"Can't sleep. I walk when I can't sleep. Normally end up here." It's one of the few places she feels safe. Where she feels close to him even when he isn't here. Except he is here. Now. Before her. Living and breathing and looking just how she left him the last time. Her chest aches, tightening at the sight of him even as her feet carry her forward, drawing her closer to him automatically. She stops an arms length away, looking up at him with that same dazed expression in her eyes, seeming far away despite being right here. "You're home... You- you didn't come find me."
He just hums in response, hazel eyes lingering on the arm folded across her belly. He can't really tell her what to do, can he? Locke twists back to how he was sitting, taking another swig of his beer and sighing softly. Things are some how more weird than they were at the festival. Maybe because there's none of that anger he was anticipating. She just seems.. Sad?
He doesn't watch as she draws closer to him, desperately trying to ignore the crunch of the sand. Some part of him wants her to just leave, to forget about him. Surely she wouldn't have to raise the kid alone. Someone better could fill in for him. Someone better should. But Locke knows, in his heart of hearts, that he wouldn't let that happen. Something about her usually ending up here bothers him too. Why can't she just stop loving him? It'd be easier for everyone involved.
Her question makes him tense for a moment but he relaxes, taking another swig of his beer. It's already almost empty and he's not sure how that's happened. Didn't he just open it? Another shrug as he watches the waves, "Got back a little early. Figured you wouldn't want me dropping in on you so unexpectedly." Not quite a lie but not quite the truth either. "Figured I would come find you tomorrow after I'd gotten my land legs back."
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
Sad, lost, confused... All of the things she doesn't let come out until it's late and she's alone. There are moments where they are further away, buried deep where they can't cloud her mind, chased away by whatever task is at hand for the day or by the presence of Aurelia. Except the Fireheart is gone too and she's left alone. Always alone. That's how she ends up. Alone, left behind, and put back up on the shelf until someone decides they have use for her all over again. That's always been her life and that will continue to be her life. A part of her knows this whether it's what she wants or not.
Maeve might be queen, the Nightshade, the Madame of the Halenani and a number of other things, but she would always be the second choice. A moment of exhilaration and pleasure, but ultimately nothing more aside from a means to an end.
Except, she hadn't only been that to Locke. It hadn't felt that way. He had wanted her. Maybe he still does. He said he would burn down all of Caido for her if it ever came to it. Promised her that he wouldn't leave. Said that he kept his promises. Such pretty words. Except that's all they were. Pretty words and empty promises.
Despite that, she comes here, looking for comfort and him. She only found one of the two. Maeve doesn't even realize she's sitting down until she's suddenly in the sand, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around the tops of them, jade eyes still distant as she looks at him. "I knew you were back... Jack came to see me. To talk about things. I- I wouldn't have minded if you did too."
"Can't change what's already happened, Mae." He's not really sure who he's talking to, her or himself. Maybe both. Doesn't really matter, does it? It's true, maybe more true than anything he's ever said before. He finishes the bottle and contemplates throwing it at one of the rocks but doesn't. Instead he buries in the sand with the rest and works on opening his fifth. Another drink but it doesn't burn as nicely as the ones before. Again, he has to fight down the urge to just throw the bottle away. One can only destroy so many things before it stops feeling cathartic.
It's only been a day and he doesn't really see the fault in that. She wants more of him than he's willing to give, than he can give. "Plus, I'm sure you were busy with Jack anyway. Gotta give the Captain his dues." Does he mean something by it? Not really. But word spreads fast in a place like this. Especially when one is the queen and she's pregnant with no man in sight.
"M'gonna stay in Torchline for awhile, I think. Just focus on getting ready for this fucking war." One that he wants no part in, one that he doesn't agree with. The fear that had welled up at the thought of it is replaced with vitriol instead. He's so tired of it already, of having to make all of his choices based around it. He wants to sleep on the beach and fuck who he wants and.. Well, he actually doesn't want any of that. He wants the woman next to him, their kid, their family. But Locke doesn't get nice things, Locke doesn't deserve a happy ending.
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
The words spark something and her mind clears a fraction. That cotton that seems to be stuffed into her head burning away slowly. Dark brows knit together, a slight frown tugging on the corners of her lips, drawing her usually pretty pout into something less becoming of her. This expression, whatever it is, doesn't look right on her features. It doesn't seem like it should be there and yet it rests on her face like it's home. "I know that." She replies softly, voice strained and tight with emotion, fumbling with her words as she tries hard to understand the irritation coming from him. Nothing clicks into place despite her best efforts.
It isn't until he mentions Jack, mentions 'giving the captain his dues' that the anger he wanted to see flares hotly. Her eyes narrow into something deadly, flickering with an anger that she's not expecting, but isn't unwelcome. It's better than the hurt. Than the numbness that seems to cloud her emotions much more frequently now. "Seriously? We were discussing his position on the council. You really think he was coming to get his dick wet? That he'd even want to?" She snaps, words harsh in the quiet of the night, rising up like the waves and crashing much more violently against him than the water does against the shore. "And even if he did... What does it fucking matter? Not like I'm with anyone, huh?" 'You made sure of that.'
The last part goes unspoken, but the implication is there. It's a low blow, but the pain is flaring up all over again, blinding her to anything else except this moment. She wants him to hurt even a fraction the way she does. Instead he sits there, drinking and not looking at her, avoiding the thing that they're meant to discuss in the first place. Their baby, each other, what they're going to do. Except he says what he's going to do. Get ready for the war.
It isn't a commitment. He doesn't make those anymore it seems. At least not for her. Maeve looks away, jaw feathering as she watches Aidon ahead of her, digging for crabs and occasionally checking on her over his shoulder. "Right. The war. Probably a good idea." Despite her annoyance and irritation, it doesn't come through in her voice, back to that quiet impassiveness that she's learning to adopt. "The baby is due sometime in the beginning of Deepfrost unless they come early." A possibility given the stress of everything.
Her anger is the first reaction he wanted, it's all he wanted. He just shrugs though, content to not give her the reaction she probably wants. This is the game he's the best at playing, this cool indifference. It does hurt, a bit, maybe not as much as it should or maybe it hurts more? He's not sure. He's never done this before. Never broken up with someone, never had a kid, all new to him and it feels out of his scope. "People talk, Mae, that's all." He knows more than he wants to know really. He just wants her to admit it for once. "Pretty sure the captain or the former governor being your kid's dad makes a lot more sense than a two-bit criminal." Another shrug, that's all she gets.
"Suppose so. Can't really tell you who you can and can't fuck. Don't really care." A lie but he takes a drink to cover the feathering in his jaw. "Just don't hurt my kid. Don't care what you do beyond that." There's a bit of a threat laced there, because it's true. His love, his protectiveness of Maeve is overwhelming but what he feels for that baby is almost indescribable. If he'd burn down all of Caido for her, he'd burn down Caido and everything else for their kid. Gods be damned. He's not going to tell her that though.
"What else can I do? I've got no stake in this except to try." The fifth bottle is finished and it takes all of his willpower to not throw it. He clenches the bottle tightly as he wiggles it into the sand. He goes to grab another only to find there isn't another beer and his hand is frankly too close to her. "I'll be around. Just.. Let me know. Is there anything you need help with? Like getting ready?" Whatever anger or irritation he was feeling, melts away, at least partially.
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
He pokes and prods at her, pushing buttons he knows irritates her, adding fuel to an already smoldering fire. She bites her tongue so hard that she tastes iron and it takes everything not to curl her teeth back in a snarl. How dare he. How fucking dare he imply that she would do anything to hurt her baby. How dare he sit there and lie and say he doesn't care when she knows that he does. "What are you saying, Locke? If you have a fucking problem, just come out with it. I'm tired of doing this with you. I'm tired of you throwing Sunjata and everyone else that I've slept with in my face." She hissed, irritation bubbling through her veins, hot and viscous in the way it slides through her. "What does it even matter now? Yeah, I fucked Jack. I fucked Sunjata too. I fucked Aurelia and Adam and a number of others. So what?"
She wants to throw out that she knows that he's fucked other people. Seraphina was the top of his list after he left her. When he ran away from her. Them. The life they were building. Something that is so far off the fucking table now that it might as well been thrown against the wall and shattered. "The fact that you're even saying that..." Maeve all but snarls, narrowing her eyes at him, that same dangerous spark in her irises. Locke might be the one who can shift. He might be the one with claws, but Maeve has no doubts that she would rip someone's throat out with her teeth if they ever implied what he was in this moment. "Nothing is going to happen to them." And if that means protecting their baby from him too, she won't hesitate to do so.
His irritation melts away, but hers still simmers below the surface, yearning for some sort of reaction from him that he refuses to give. It's back to how it was before and she hates it. She hates it so much and she wants him to hate it too, but he simply tolerates it, acting as if he's above it all. Her shoulders lift in a shrug, feigning indifference, "I'm working on the nursery. Up to you if you want to help with that."
God he wishes he had a cigarette or a beer or anything else to distract him. "I don't fucking care that you slept with them. Not really. I fucked around too." Does getting half a handy and whatever he did with Sera even count? They weren't together for the latter so who knows. "Am real tired of feeling like I'm playing second fiddle to a guy who isn't ever going to give you what you want from him though. Really? Right after I left? Yeah I slept with some chick I knew from Stormbreak but it doesn't go any further than that. I wasn't in love with her." He just wants her to admit it to him, that he was the rebound, the thing to help her cope with Sunjata not wanting her. That all of this is founded on lies because she refuses to let things alone.
His voice is steady, despite the things he says, despite the way he feels about it. Because he does feel a lot of things. Too many. But no, he's taken his time, he knows what he wants and for fuck's sake, she's going to listen to him. "You would say the same to me, wouldn't you? I'm not saying you're gonna do it. Just. Fuck. Nevermind Maeve, you're just going to take what I have to say the wrong way anyway." He hates this, his inability to use the right words to make her understand. Because he doesn't think she understands.
Locke wants to make a quip, something about being surprised she wants his help. She probably doesn't though. Probably would be better if he just left. Oh, what if he just.. Died. Then he wouldn't be anyone's problem. Not Maeve's, not the kid's. Yeah. He thinks that might be the way to go. He fists his fingers into his hair, the first real reaction as he groans. "'Course I wanna help Mae. I wanna be there, for both of you. I hate this." There's the first change in his voice, an almost whine as he curls into himself. "Sorry your kid has to have such a fuck up for a dad." Because as much as he wants to die, as easy it would make things, Locke truly is a coward.
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
Oh, but he does care. He cares because it was Sunjata. He cares that it happened after he left. He cares more than he wants to admit and Maeve knows it. She sees it in the way he holds himself and the tightness of his jaw. The darkness in his eyes. Maeve picks up each of these tells like they're shells on the shore. Except he says something that simply isn't true. Maeve scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head at him as she she runs a hand through her hair, pushing windswept curls from her face. "Yeah, I slept with him after you left. I tried to drown out the pain in something familiar because I couldn't drink or smoke or get high because it would hurt the baby. The baby I so desperately wanted. That I wanted with you. You don't get to be mad at me for doing what I did to try and cope."
There are suddenly tears stinging her eyes and she blinks them away, pushing that hurt down again, attempting to bottle it up because she can't break down. He's already taken so many pieces of her. Stolen bits of her heart away for himself and she'll never get them back despite how she might want them. Parts of her are missing, stolen by his hands, greedily keeping them for himself and Maeve wonders if he even realizes what he has anymore.
"Don't assume you know how I'm going to take things, Locke. You wanted to talk. So lets fucking talk. Tell me." Maeve huffs, gritting her teeth as she draws in a breath, short and choppy. The sound almost harsh in the quiet between them. Her fingers tighten around her knees, but she releases that same breath, dropping her head against her arms, hiding away there as she begins to tremble. She's breaking just as much as he is. "It doesn't feel like it, Locke. All we do is fight over the same old shit that shouldn't fucking matter anymore. I want you. I've always wanted you, but you just keep pushing me away. Over and over and over. I can't take it anymore."
He doesn't say anything, mostly because he can't. The words are there but they contradict themselves because everything he's feeling is contradictory. He wants to keep fighting, to keep pushing her away but he wants her back just as badly. The attuned tries to relax, his body aching from the sheer stress of being so tense for so long. A few more breaths and he turns to look at her, shaking his head.
"I'm trying, Mae. Don't you see how hard this is for me? I'm not used to people caring about me, okay? Although I'm not sure if you even do anymore. I don't want you to. Better off without me." He turns away from her, burying his head against his knees again as he tries to remember how to breath. "You can't say it doesn't feel like I'm trying. That's not fair. I just got back. Haven't had a chance to try." And you're already writing me off. Just like everyone else. Never good enough.
His grip tightens where they're wrapped around his legs, nails digging into his skin despite the thick fabric of his pants. It's during emotional times like these that he has the least control over his shifting. "I said I was going to stay, didn't I? I said I wanted to help. I never said how I felt about you changed. I never said I didn't want this." There are so many things he wants to throw at her, but he won't. Because she isn't going to say what he wants, even if he knows he's right. So he pushes on, trying to figure out what's productive instead of aggressive. Kind of.
"I don't deserve this, Mae. Not even a little bit. You can tell me it's fine, that it doesn't matter, but it fucking does. I've hurt people, hell, I've killed people. I shouldn't have a family when I've ruined so many others. And now you're the Queen and that's even more of a reason. I'll just drag you down. I already have and I always will. Stop being so stupid and see me for what I really am." It's spoken quickly, like he has to get it out in as few breaths as possible. "I don't think I'm going to make it out of this alive.. Don't know when I decided to have a moral compass but I'm pretty sure it's gonna get me killed. Better off just forgetting about me." Even if it's the last thing he wants.
I'm motivated by the lack of doubt I'm consecrated but I'm not devout
"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
She does see it. Clearly. Yet she can't accept it. Why is it so hard for him to realize that she loves him? That she wants him and cares about him? Even though he's making it so abundantly clear that she shouldn't. That their love isn't enough. It will never be enough. The feeling of defeat settles over her so heavily that she feels like she's sinking into the sand with the weight of it. "I do care about you, Locke. I care so much that it hurts. At this point I wish I didn't either because I can't keep doing this." She can't handle being pushed away anymore. She can't take not being his choice.
He might love her. He might care. He might be trying. Except he isn't trying enough. He doesn't want to seize this opprotunity they have. This chance at a life together, but he seems so willing to throw it away and she can't understand why. "You're saying that, Locke, but I'm not seeing it. It doesn't seem like you want this. Want me. Saying you'll be there to help isn't the same as wanting it." There isn't any accusation or fight in her voice. It's resigned now. Quiet and barely more than a whisper, but still there.
It's like a punch to the gut. His words cut into her, lashing out so sharply that they're almost cruel, making her wince as she swallows against the lump in her throat. He keeps pushing her away, giving her reason after reason to just leave him alone, to give up on this. On them. It's the final blow to her already fragile control. The tears slip down her cheeks and she sucks in a breath that feels like swallowing glass, "I don't want to forget about you... Can't you see that? I- I love you. Whether it's stupid to or not." But she can only take so much. She can only handle this back and forth for so long. Maeve is starting to fade and the chance of their future fades with it.
