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!
empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
“Maaaaabel?” Wessex calls aloud, as she pauses in her struggle against the thick muck. It sucks at her calves, clings to her feet, and each step takes considerably more effort than anywhere else she’s walked. But she had to be here - the girl’s absence has been noted for far too long and as a self-styled big sister, she now has to do everything she can to find her. Mabel had already been left to die once; the demigod can’t let it happen again.
So she calls out every fifty feet or so, insistent and unyielding, despite the thick yellow fog and the land that seems to want to eat her. It’s quite a continuous racket, but she’ll slog her way through the whole damn Feverlands if she has to.
What few others will be able to hear is the mental inquiries she sends along with it, reaching out to her sibling, urging her, pleading with her to answer if she’s out there. "Maaaaabel?"
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
Mildew was well attuned to the sounds of the swamp and knew when something was amiss; she generally knew where lost visitors in the Feverlands where before they knew themselves. She used that information to observe and decide if they were to be bothered, which is what she decided to do with Wessex. Watching quietly from a dark tangle of roots between two trees, Mildew watched - a woman she didn't recognise.
She was about to turn, not too interested (and having no idea who 'Mabel' was) but then she spotted them. Fangs, in the stranger's mouth, when she opened it to yell. An Ascended - the first she'd seen.
Immediately, Mildew knew she'd have to sate her own curiosity and talk to one of the dreaded Ascended herself. Stepping out from behind the roots as if she'd casually come across the scene, basket of mushrooms in the crook of her elbow, she looked over to Wessex with a casual smile. "Are you looking for someone, dear? I haven't seen anyone but you today."
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
“You haven’t?” Wessex immediately replies with a worried frown. “Anything over the last couple of days? Or weeks?” Because it could have been… Gods only know how long. In her heart of hearts the Wraith has a sinking feeling, the sense that Mabel is gone again, perhaps for good, simply because it’s been too long. The world may be big but she’s slowly marking it off and checking each area. So far, there’s no sign of her sister.
“I’m looking for my sister, Mabel.” she begins again, turning towards the woman. She isn’t as careful as she usually is, and nothing remarkable stands out about her other than that she’d just… appeared out here. Wessex begins to describe Mabel as best she can, ending with a sad shrug, unable to stop the worried look in her eye.
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
"Not anyone called Mabel, no." Mildew had spoken to anyone she'd seen in the last weeks and they'd all been distinctly their own persons; Deimos, Ever and Mateo, Aurelia...no Mabels, and (while this may have been rude to assume) as she thought this girl was probably also Ascended, she could be sure she had not seen her. "The Feverlands can be...disorienting for those who experience it for the first time. Do you know whereabouts she entered? Why she was here?"
She was sure if the Order or any other number of the Demi-Gods of the Heralds could see her right now, they might balk at her helping an Ascended, but it wasn't in Mildew's nature to leave someone distressed and in need. Sweeping her skirt to one side so she could perch on a root, she tried to give a comforting smile. "No one knows these swamps as well as I do. I can help you try and look, dear. What's your name?"
To anyone looking from the outside, Mildew would seem to be considerably younger than Wessex, but she spoke almost like one would to a child. Oh, she knew the Ascended could grow very old, but there was a kind of unspoken understanding she shared with the also-immortal, and she could not yet sense that deep and storied experience on Wessex.
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
The news causes Wessex to deflate a little bit, lips pursing together in tightly contained disappointment. “No idea,” she confesses, the frustration of this wild goose chase clearly taking its toll. “She’s been missing for a while. At this point, I’m just checking everywhere.” There’s nothing else to be done, she thinks, than try and cover every region - except maybe Hak Etme. She can’t imagine why Mabel would go there.
Slogging her way over to the shorter woman, Wessex gets a closer look at her whilst contemplating the offer. On one hand, she’s rather sure that if Mabel were here, she would respond. On the other hand, the woman is peculiar and interesting and offers to help shouldn’t be discounted. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I’m Wessex. You are?” Naive in her knowledge of the swamp and the existence of an old, surviving demigod, she hasn’t a clue who she’s really talking to. And at this point - it doesn't matter. Help is help.
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
"I see...hm. Do you worry that something unfortunate may have befallen her?" Mildew asked, trying to come to the topic gently but knowing that someone missing for a while in Caido was more than likely dead or at the very least, in a bad way. Wessex probably already knew that, but Mildew knew how hope could cloud a mind.
As Wessex got closer Mildew looked her up and down, surprised by how much of a normal woman she looked; after all she'd heard about the Ascended, she had suspected something more monstrous. Perhaps it was all within, just under the skin, machinery and evil bubbling away. "I go by Mildew nowadays. Now...how long have you been looking? The first port of call might be a rest. It's no good to search when you're tired." She'd heard the Ascended did not tire and wanted to test Wessex with the question, though she did start to walk the way towards her home. Even if the Ascended refused, they could go past it and look further into the Feverlands. "Often those that get lost here become exhausted and sink into the mud...I hope your friend has not suffered that fate."
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires f a l l when we move the i m m o v a b l e
Was she worried? If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have been out here, checking the most unlikely edges of Caido. “Yes,” she says simply, thin-lipped and tightly wound. “There are people who wouldn’t hesitate to try and hurt a kid.”
Not knowing where Mildew is leading her, Wessex follows anyway, but she is quick to put the idea of a rest to bed. “I’m fine, thank you though. No need for a rest. Much stronger than I look.” Which might be a lot - the General has that lean, muscular look about her - and always will, thanks to Ascension. She gives a little mental prod to the air again, calling out for Mabel before returning to the out-loud conversation when there’s no answer. “How long have you been living out here - I assume it’s living, if you know the Feverlands well?”
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
"Well now, let's not leap to despair. She may just as well have been taken in and helped. I do think most people would hesitate to harm a child." Mildew had determinedly kept up a mostly positive view of humanity over her long life and had learnt that it took quite a lot of choice. She wasn't naive to the fact that right now, with the world on the cusp of the fight it was, some people might go as far as to harm the innocent - but she hoped that the majority had not reached that point (and never would).
She shrugged as for Wessex not wanting the rest and adjusted her course to take them deeper into the swamps, thinking to go towards some 'caves' made by particularly strong and high roots, where she often found people stuck. "I've been here some...hm, well, certainly coming up to three hundred years. Longer than that, perhaps, but I did wander for a while." The barrier going up and the war coming to a crashing end had pushed her into the Feverlands more permanently. "As I said, dear - no one knows it like I do. Just last week I found a young girl half-dead and abandoned by her 'friends' on the edge of the mudpools here."
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires f a l l when we move the i m m o v a b l e
Without wanting to give away much about the two of them being Ascended, Wessex just hmmms in noncommitment. Unlike Mildew, she doesn’t have much faith in humanity or their ability do good or change for the better. Guess that happens when you’re stuck in a bubble for most of your life. The swamp witch, however, is giving her biases a run for their money.
Her brows furrow and mouth just narrowly avoids turning into a small o as she takes the three hundred years part in. Either the woman is fucking with her (a distinct possibility) or she’s immortal and that makes her… a demigod. Or seasonal spirit. Nah, on second thought, she looks nothing like the other two seasonal spirits Wessex has run into.
“Oh.” she manages to eke out. Though whether that’s in response to the other, not-Mabel, or if Wessex is still stuck on Mildew’s age might be initially hard to tell. “So you’re a demigod?” she asks. “And you’ve… seen some shit, huh?” A broad term, but probably the most appropriate word. And it begs the question, at least internally, why she’s helping an Ascended.
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
Mildew laughed at Wessex's question, holding a hand over her mouth as a sound like bells left her. "I suppose you could say that, yes. I have been serving Frey my whole life in these swamps...though I have seen, as you say, 'some shit'." From wars to peace, invaders and refugees, lovers and enemies...they'd all wandered into the Feverlands, at one point or another.
"While we're being candid about who we are..." She confidently used a root as a step up onto a mud ledge, deftly switching her feet over quickly enough that it didn't collapse under her weight. "I see you have some sharp teeth. That means you're either very devoted to strange fashion, or an Ascended. I've never met an Ascended before - I would be interested to ask you some questions." Glancing back towards Wessex, holding out a hand to help her over the same obstacle, Mildew did not seem to have any ill intent.
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires f a l l when we move the i m m o v a b l e
Realizing how silly that sounded only after Mildew begins to laugh, Wessex finally cracks a smile and chuckles at herself as well.
The turn of their conversation gives her a brief moment of pause, brows raising a bit even as the swamp witch offers a hand to help. But she’s seen nothing other than kindness and generosity from Mildew, and she knows that Frey, out of all the heralds, is probably the least vindictive. “Sure,” she says, accepting the hand and allowing her heavy, mud-ridden boots to be guided over the root and mud ledge. “I’m a demigod too, since we’re being candid. Ask away.” She always has her teleportation if necessary. And maybe, just maybe, she can… dunno, change a fraction of this woman’s mind?
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
The hand was indeed only offered in friendship and Mildew helped Wessex stay steady as she climbed the root, then turned to keep walking, the next part of the route thankfully on mostly solid ground, which if looked closely at would reveal the imprints of thousands of footprints back and forth, beating into the ground until there was a definite path.
"A Demi-God...?" She asked, glancing back over her shoulder at Wessex. "I didn't know the Voice had them. How interesting." Oh, she was sure those more devoted to their ideals would say Wessex was not a Demi-God but something else entirely, but Mildew was willing to take her at face value for the moment. "What drew you to the Voice in the first place? Oh, I know she offers eternal life right away - a blessing and a curse, mind you - but many have gained enough favour with the Old Gods to earn that too."
As they came by a clearing she knew was often a stopping place for travellers, Mildew stood on the base of a large bent tree and looked around, but with no Mabel to be seen, she shrugged and kept going.
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
empires f a l l when we move the i m m o v a b l e
She finds the surprise more amusing than anything, but refrains from offering any clarification about the Voice’s demigods. Everyone knows about Nate, sure - but she’s not so sure about Azrael. It would be best if it remained that way, even if this line of questioning was innocent.
Find themselves on more solid ground, Wessex closes the gap between them so they can talk more easily, while still letting Mildew take the lead. “Well, that’s a bit of a long story. The short version is that I grew up in the Grounds, in the bubble. Life was… bad. We were always one disaster from starvation. And the heralds weren’t any help. The people I loved most died from this wasting sickness… and then I got it, and I wasn’t ready to go. Not like that. So I ascended. And then I was a fucking idiot and got myself killed and… she brought me back. Better than I was before I died.”
Shrugging, she decides to let Mildew come to her own conclusion on the underlying reasons. Wessex saw it more as a failure of the Old Gods and their heralds to do anything to prevent the Grounders’ unnecessary suffering, not so much as an offer of eternal life, though that indeed had been what initially attracted her. When they pause, at the waypoint, the Wraith cups her hands and yells into the heavy, empty air, “Mabel?” ever hopeful that at some point they’ll get an answer.
She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
The story Wessex told was remarkable; Mildew had never really considered how people might be taken in by the Voice in ways other than a greed for abilities beyond their mortal bodies. "I see...and...do you feel the Voice is any help? With the situation we're in now? There are plenty who would still say we're a disaster away from the end of the world, almost." Her tone was more ponderous than aggressive, Mildew genuinely curious to know how much the Ascended believed in their 'mother'.
The shout yielded nothing and with a sigh, Mildew outstretched her arms. "Hang on, there is one more thing I can do."
After a few seconds, a bright green beetle with iridescent wings flew over and landed on her palm. Mildew looked to it and moved her lips, though no audible sound escaped. Once the conversation was over, after a minute or so, she reached up a hand to put the beetle in her hair, where it happily burrowed down for a rest. "They haven't seen anyone. If even the insects don't know...I don't think it's very likely your friend is in the Feverlands, dear."
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
