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!
11-08-2021, 04:40 PM (This post was last modified: 12-09-2021, 10:22 PM by Maeve.)
Maeve
We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter
It's late and typically people might find the fact that someone gardening this late at night was counterproductive. Most of those people would be right. If it wasn't for the fact that this garden thrives at night. The best time for the Nightshade to toil away was in the moonlight that streamed from above, causing her pale skin to glow almost in the same ethereal nature of the blooms that surround her. The only real noise filling the room comes from the flow of the fountain and the waves in the distance, her soft humming mingling with both as she uses her spade to create a small hole for the new seedlings she's been growing, slipping it gently inside.
Aidon dozes attop one of the pillars, smoke curling lazily from his nose, quiet rumbling snores reaching her where she's knelt in the soil. Her skirt rucked up around her knees, feet bare, and fingers coated in the dark soil she's digging in.
Driving faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are
This time, the first thing he does when he gets to town is look for her. The beach, the Halenani, he haunts all of their usual places. He's not letting anyone say anything to her before he does. Not this time. He fully expects this to go poorly and he's willing to take that. He just needs her to know he's back.
So he's not surprised when he finds her at the Court, nor is he surprised to find her tending her garden of night flowers. He's only surprised by how happy and relaxed she seems. Suddenly he's second guessing himself. Despite how badly he wants to be here, maybe she truly is better off without him. Isn't that what he said? Before?
But Locke has always been pretty selfish and why should he deny himself the things he wants? The worst she can do is exile him and keep him from his son. (But that's what shifts are for..) "Need a hand? Been told I'm pretty good with a shovel."
Smoke a cigarette and lie some more These conversations kill
Maeve doesn’t hear his footsteps. She’s not even sure she hears anything. Her humming is soft, mixing with the waves and the breeze, rustling through the blooms as she digs her hands into the dirt. It’s so grounding. So utterly familiar that she forgets everything else for that moment. It isn’t until his voice rings out so damn clearly that she falters. The seedling she’s holding tumbles and there is an instant tremor to her hands. Tears that she thought were all gone spring to her eyes along with a righteous fury spreading through her chest.
She stands so quickly she’s almost dizzy with it, stumbling as she turns to face him, jade eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. ”Locke?” And oh if his name isn’t the sweetest poison on her tongue, tingling across her lips, and intoxicating her senses. Maeve takes a step forward. One and then another and another until she’s suddenly in front of him. She doesn’t even register her hand moving until it lands sharply across his cheek, stinging her palm, ”You fucking bastard! I was worried sick!” That fire that is burning in her belly only lasts a moment longer as she seizes his face between her hands, looking him over for anything obviously wrong, but finding nothing.
What she does next makes very little sense, but it doesn’t stop her from surging forward, kissing him so soundly her lungs ache with it. There are tears on her cheeks and fire in her heart and fuck she missed him so gods damned much. She’s not sure how long she stays locked there, his face between her hands on her lips on his, but eventually she pulls back to press her forehead against his. ”Where did you go? Why did you leave us?” Comes the whispered words, voice already beginning to tremble as much as she was.
He's not sure what he's expecting nor is he sure exactly what kind of reaction he wants from her. Realization seems to hit her like a brick and suddenly she is standing, in his space, alive, real. He starts to say something but he's cut off by the slap. Finally. After all of this. The reaction he wanted. Locke almost laughs, something akin to relief starting to bubble up in his chest.
But then her hands are on his face and his eyes meet hers half a second before she's pulling him down for a kiss. She's soft and smells faintly of lavender and dirt and he fucking loves it. Who is he to deny himself the finer things in life? And there is little finer than she is. He doesn't back away until she does, letting her play this on her terms.
Hazel finds green and he simply looks at her as she speaks. How does he explain this? "Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?" Because it was but hasn't he stressed that he's a liar? That he always has and always will run? She has no need to believe him. "I was in the Wilds, ended up in King's End. Had to wait for LongNight.." It's all true, all just a bad turn of events.
He doesn't lash out at her when she slaps him. He also doesn't push her away after the kiss. No, he kisses her back just as desperately and Maeve melts for only a moment. Then her question is aired and he answers in a way that has her stomach twisting. An accident? How could it possibly be an accident? It made no sense. Not a single bit. The anger flares again, but it's overwhelmed by the relief of simply having him back. Her irritation might come later, but right now she's grateful that he's here. That he's alive. "Locke..." His name comes out a strangled whisper and she wants to believe him so desperately that her chest aches with it.
She could decide to. If she just let it all go. Let them start over. Forget all the things he's said that point towards this being a lie. They could forget and be happy and start over and Edmund could have his dad back. She could have him back. She didn't have to be alone.
Maeve sighs heavily, arms wrapping so tightly around him that he can't possibly pull away from her. "I shouldn't, but I do. I want to." She finally murmurs, drawing back to cup his cheek again, brushing back his overgrown curls from his face. "We're okay. He's grown a lot. More than he should have. Frey... Frey aged him." It's best to tell him now. So he knows what to expect. So it can sink in.
"He's wonderful, Locke. Bright and smart and so full of love. Mischievous too. I imagine he gets that from you."
She really shouldn't. She should be pissed but she's not and he's really not sure what to think. Some part of him wants to press, to fight with her again, to keep that barrier up. But it feels futile. They just do this over and over. Fight, make up, fight, make up. It's got to stop somewhere and he's not sure he can keep denying himself what he really wants.
"You really shouldn't." Despite what he says, he leans into her touch, his own hands sliding around her waist. He holds her lightly, afraid if he's too much she might run. Her fingers tangle into his curls and maybe he needs a haircut but also he kind of likes it. His eyes widen a bit as she tells him about Frey and Edmund. "Really? I've heard of that but.."
He's happy they're safe, happy they're healthy, but he feels like he's missed so much. Locke tries not to let his disappointment show, pushing it down because he doesn't deserve to feel it. "I'm glad you're both okay. Of course he's smart, he's your kid, isn't he?" He's not sure how he feels about Edmund taking after him in any way.
No, she really shouldn't. Except she's never been one for following the rules. Not when it came to things she wanted. Despite everything, she wants him. She wants their little family. She wants it all. The ups and downs and everything in between. Maeve's fingers card through his curls, brushing them out of his eyes before her hands slip down to his shoulders. They rest their lightly, jade eyes shining in the moonlight the filters in from above, a breath caught in her throat as she holds his own gaze for the span of a minute.
"I have too. I know that Safrin has aged her own children, but I didn't know that it was so common." Maeve murmurs, drawing back from him so there was an arms length between them now, but that same energy continued to crackle between them. "I was afraid he wouldn't remember things. Remember me or you, but he does. He asked for you... When he came back to me from the shrine. He didn't know where you went. Didn't understand. I- I tried my best to explain. To tell him that you didn't leave because of him." She imagines it would hurt Locke to think his own son would feel that way. She knows it would break her heart if Edmund ever thought she didn't want him.
Maeve makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, her thumb pressing to the fluttering pulse in his own, "He's our kid." She stresses, unwilling to let that go unsaid, needing him to know that she thought he was his son just as much as hers. "Just wait until you see him."
He misses her playing with his hair, misses her in general. His eyes close and he simply takes in the cool night air and the warm feeling of her beside him. She's changed so much in all of this time but he really hasn't, he's still just a love sick puppy. Nothing matters except her and their son. Her hands drop to his shoulders and he finally opens his eyes again, content to listen to her speak.
Something akin to hurt spreads over his face, "Of course I didn't leave because of him. Or you. I would never." Every time he's left, it's been because of him. Because he's stupid and scared. Never because of them. It does hurt, a lot more than he was expecting. And, maybe, if he keeps running, it will only hurt worse.
The sinking feeling is back in his stomach and he doesn't know how to deal with it. He never does. He holds her gaze for a moment before looking down. A thought too close to the surface. Locke swallows thickly, "You sure you want that? For him to be like me?" Surely she doesn't. Hell, he definitely doesn't.
Deep down Maeve knew it was never because of them. Of her and Edmund. That if he left it was because of the pressure. Of the fear. They'd done this so many times now that she knew that was likely the case. Still, it didn't take away the hurt of him leaving her. Leaving their son. She's quiet for a few breaths, simply drinking him in, jade eyes searching hazel as she holds onto his shoulders. "I know... I know that. He tried his best to understand." And she had too. Even if there was a bit of resentment for being left alone when all she ever wanted was the opposite.
Maeve sighs softly, reaching up to cup his cheek again, encouraging him to look at her as something utterly open and earnest settles on her features. "Locke... There is so much good in you. Even though you don't see it. He has that same good. He cares for people deeply, he's protective, he's playful and mischievous. He gets all of that from you." The Nightshade murmurs, rising up on her tiptoes to press her forehead against his, holding him there as if she could force him to feel that all of it was true.
Pulling back at his question to look at him once more, Maeve shakes her head, "Not now. He's back at home, sleeping. Soon though. I want to talk to him first. Explain things and prepare him, but soon," Tomorrow even. She just needed a little bit of time with him first.
His jaw flexes, a surely tell-tale sign of his annoyance. It's all directed toward himself but he pushes it down, there's nothing he can do to change the past. All he knows is that when he wanders, he finds himself making his way to her. It's as if all roads lead him here. Maybe he'll be able to make himself stay this time. He wants to believe that she didn't think she abandoned them again, he really does. Just like she's willing to believe him, he's going to try.
Suddenly she's pushing her way into his space again and if it were anyone else, he'd have a problem with it. But he leans down to meet her despite himself. "That sounds like you. And being a little boy." But he wants to believe it, he really does. He loves Edmund so much and despite what the other Torchers might say, he's glad he's his father. "Maybe I can teach him how to cook." It's said offhandedly, like he didn't mean to say it out loud.
She pulls away again and he pouts slightly. "Yeah. Makes sense." He doesn't want to wait but he understands. All he's ever wanted was what's best for Edmund. If that means waiting another day, he'll take it.
"You're, uh, friend isn't going to get upset with us, is he? The guy you were with at the meeting.." He's not sure exactly what he's implying here but he has to know.
She sees the way his jaw feathers. The tick a dead giveaway of his irritation. Before she might have assumed it was directed at her. That he was unhappy with what she said, but she knows better now. A huff of a laugh pushes past her lips at his explanation, shaking her head, "Or it's both of us. Have you ever considered that?" Maeve questions, arching a dark brow as she challenges him to argue with her, knowing this isn't something she'll back down on.
"He wants to learn how to bake. I told him that you used to make me the best cookies. He wants to learn how to make them too." Her smile lingers just like she lingers in his space, taking a deep breath, refamiliarizing herself with him all over again.
Maeve draws back from him again, drifting towards the abandoned work, sinking back down into the soft soil of the flowerbeds. If they shared a bond, her confusion would be palpable, but after a moment it clicks. "Who? Adam?" She scoffs, shaking her head, "Not likely. He's just a friend. Besides that, he's with Pet. They're married."
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile but not quite. She isn't going to let him get away with this, is she? Of course not. She refuses to see that side of him. But he doesn't want to fight anymore, he doesn't want to argue. He just wants this. "I suppose." So he'll meet her half way, for now.
"I'll put that on the top of my list then. I hope you like your kitchen being destroyed." Nothing is quite as messy as a child with access to flour and sugar. And while Locke isn't fond of sweets, he doesn't skimp on his sugar. "Or mine. I don't think he's ever been to my apartment." Locke had never needed to take them that far away. There's a twinge in his chest, at the thought of the unused crib in his bedroom.
Maeve finally pulls away and he watches her as she starts working on her flowers again. He waits a moment before joining her, falling back into something of an old routine. She mulls his question over for a moment and he waits, ignoring the way his heart threatens to rip out of his chest. Her answer is better than he expected though. Simply a friend. He can deal with that.
He plucks a stubborn weed out of the ground, tossing it to one side. He goes to reach for another when he looks up at her. The moonlight bathes her in silver and it's like something is rekindled inside of him. "Mae," He whispers, borderline prays, as he leans over the flowers. Everything he's ever wanted is kneeling before him and he's done nothing but deny himself. Where has he been all this time? He brushes the back of his hand against her cheek before pulling her towards him.
She already kissed him once, right? Where's the harm in another?
He wasn't the only hard headed one here. Maeve didn't back down from a challenge and Locke was one of the biggest challenges in her life. Every day with him was a fight, but fuck if she wasn't willing to go to war every single day if it meant having him in her life. She smirks, making a soft sound of triumph in the back of her throat, "You should know that I'm usually right about these things."
Maeve glances back at him and the image his words paint in her mind is something she longs for. The Nightshade would happily clean a messy kitchen everyday of her life if it meant that the two of them were in it. "I don't think I'll mind it all that much. Can't be any worse than something I would do." She wraps her fingers around another weed, tugging it from the soil and tossing it to the side, shaking her head at him. "No, he hadn't been there." Only once. Shortly after Locke left when she went to look for him.
Locke shifts to join in her the flowerbed and his warmth beside her is comforting. If it wasn't for the work before her she'd likely lean into him. As it is, there are weeds to pull and flowers to plant. Except Locke has another idea. Her name falls from his lips in a hushed prayer and jade eyes snap up to his, breath catching in her throat. His fingers brush against her cheek in a featherlight caress before they're curling at the nape of her neck, tugging her forward until their lips meet.
Sunjata, Aurelia, Hotaru, Jack... None of them held a flame to this. Any feelings she held for them before couldn't compare to the love that was harbored in her heart for Locke. The father of her child. The one person who saw through all of the bullshit. He came into her life in a burst of light and heat and they burned themselves out so quickly they didn't have a chance at anything more. Not until now. Did they have to fall apart to come together like this? To finally have a chance? She kisses him with all the want she's harbored for him over the seasons, reaching up to cup his cheek as she falls forward against his chest, uncaring of the work that lays discarded around them.
There's something poetic or maybe a little fucked up about making out in the Court with the fucking Queen but frankly, Locke's never been one for dignity or whatever. She's just as eager as he is and he's going to take everything she has to give him. He pulls her against him, hands finding familiar but different curves. His fingers dig into her hips, content to leave his mark on her again.
He pulls away only to steal a half breath before he's devouring her again. She tasted sweet and spicy, like a warm tea and something else he couldn't place. Something so familiar that it almost quelled the bone deep ache he had for her. Finally, he pulls away from her lips, tilting her head to the side as he trails kisses down to her neck. He doesn't ask, he's tired of asking, and instead he simply bites. There are no fangs, no drawing of blood, but he marks her just the same.
"I love you, I've always loved you." He breathes against her skin, punctuating it with bites and kisses as if he can force her into feeling how much he means it. He knows what he says is dangerous but he's wanted to say it ever since that night on the beach. He's wanted to say it every day he saw her with their son. He doesn't expect it back, but she needs to know.
