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!
Amun arched an eyebrow at Darkeye. Frowning, the potter rubbed the back of his head. "Obviously I don't see it that way. Why would affiliating with a Guild that only serves to make products for whoever asks or needs it without judgment make people see you as biased." Sighing, he shook his head. "Still, I respect your decision and won't press any further."
Taking the other man's hand, the Ascended gave it a firm shake. Releasing Darkeye, Amun began to gather up the supplies and materials they hadn't used in the construction process. "Well then we'll call you a freelancer for now. Unofficially of course." He gave Darkeye a nod.
Darkeye shook his head again and tried not to laugh. "We have already noticed that we disagree on many things, Amun," he said. "Are these products offered outside the Grounds? Many things will change Amun because of your attack and if you think that is not the case, you should think again. They will hunt you for what you have done, not for being ascended. Would you willingly surrender for the good of the Ascended?" Darkeye now looked with curiosity into the face of Amum.
"I always mark all my work with my signs. I take a lot of pride in all my work. I'm not afraid it will be known that I work for you. The important people know where I live. It can be official but not in the guild that sends a wrong signal." Darkeye smiled
Amun nodded at Darkeye's first question. "Yes, our goods are offered outside the Hollowed Ground. We arrange regular deliveries to the other regions." As for the rest? Sighing, the potter tilted his head to one side. "People have been hunting me since I first arrived in this world. And if it really was in the Ascended's best interest, yes, I would give myself up. But not to a death sentence." He narrowed his eyes at the other man.
Shrugging, he glanced over at the blast furnace. "People aren't going to care as much about Guild membership as you think they will, but I understand your concerns." He let out a huff of air.
"Then you've earned at least some of my respect. You're not completely lost. I'll be tearing off to halo soon and trying to talk to the leaders there. After that, it's off to Stormbreak. When I get back, maybe we'll talk again." Darkeye stopped smiling and became very serious. He tried to look into Amun's soul but turned away.
Darkeye just let the comment stand and turned to leave. His gaze returned."A frank comment from me to you Amun. I like you a lot, but I think you still need to develop further. You need to grow up otherwise you will die faster than you think." Darkeye starts to move where the door is.
As Darkeye declared that Amun wasn't entirely a lost cause, he raised his eyebrows. Snorting, he shook his head. "Thanks, I guess. And good luck with the leaders." He inclined his head to the other man.
"I'll take that under advisement," the potter responded to Darkeye's warning. As the other man prepared to leave, the Ascended gave Darkeye a wave. Making sure the other man hadn't left anything behind, Amun gave one last look at the blast furnace. Then he resumed picking up the materials and supplies they'd left strewn about. Making tidy piles, he'd return them to the storage rooms and clean up anything left out. All the while, he'd make sure nothing went wrong with the new installation.
