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!
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
The journey to the desert was a long one, but through the multitudes of skyports, helpful, passing merchants, caravans, and walking, the young Caretaker eventually made it to her destination. Along the way, the sights and sounds of the flora, the fauna, had given her ample time to observe, to cast notes into her journals for future use in the Celestine, and presided as distractions from the monumental weight of loss, sitting right in between her ribs.
It was dusk by the time she made it to the pools, stifling down the urge to retch at the distinct odor; pattern and walk distinct so that she might not disturb any lurking landsharks below. Perhaps she’d be able to coax them elsewhere, if worst came to worst, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The starlit well stood out from the sand and dunes, from the rippling pools cast in eerie moonlight and piercing hues. Clutching at her bag, she opened the satchel, revealing several jars of water that had made the sojourn with her, and beginning to loosen the lid of the first.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Amun was shrouded head to toe in black. Holding an umbrella in one hand, the other clutched the strap of a bag. Adjusting it slightly, he narrowed his eyes as the horizon. It was hazy with heat.
Slipping in the sand a bit as he tried to summit a dune, he sighed. After the long trek through King’s End, he come upon the desert. It didn’t exactly agree with him, of course, but Zhanshi had immediately dove into the ground, wriggling and rolling and tunneling around. The potter had shook his head at the landshark’s antics before setting off to find the well that would water the seasonal deity or whatever.
It had been hard going, but in the end the Ascended spotted a glow that looked promising. However, there was also a figure already there. He released the strap of the bag to shade his eyes but he couldn’t make them out at this distance. Undeterred, his companion shot ahead, his passage marked by a disturbance in the sand above. Cursing, Amun broke into a trot. Slipping and stumbling, he tried to keep up as best he could given the uneven footing.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
The telltale movements and sound coming from the sand gave her an abrupt pause – stilling slightly. Placing the stopper back along the jar, she breathed, eyes watching, spotting, pondering her next course of action. She had no means to cease and stop a landshark in its predacious stages – save for compelling notions and her usual tactic of conversing – gentle Attuned graces, compassion, the patience and practice of someone who’d faced ursurs and dragons for a living.
Steeling herself, spine instantly ramrod straight, an unyielding, unbending sort of modicum directed her nuances and brief movements, certain not to make a sound and entice more of them. Hello she offered first to the impending creature; not noticing the other figure coming in amongst the shadows of dusk and the bright, glimmering horizon.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Lena's thought would go unheeded as Zhanshi tunneled straight towards the Caretaker. However, if she was observant, she might see the disturbance in the sands wasn't large enough for a full sized predator. And even if she missed that, when the little landshark launched from the ground and made a circle around her head, she'd see it was just a baby. And a familiar looking one at that.
Still trailing behind, Amun froze as his companion reported back through the bond who, exactly, was waiting for the potter up ahead. Groaning, he started moving again, trying to close the distance between himself, her, and Zhanshi. The Ascended kept his eyes trained on her and turned one of his palms in her direction as he jogged towards the well.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
She recognized Zhanshi instantly – customary, in her line of work. But instead of affection, an open palm, a steady hand bearing a treat, she stiffened. Breaths inward, outward, lungs inflating with hot, dry air, visions of other moments beginning to cloud her mind. Rubble. Dust. Ruin. Maybe she could choke on them again.
Her fingers shook over the rim of the jar, a steady rhythm of apprehension coiled down the notches of her spine. Gaze followed soon after, starting at the vessel, and then running over sand, until her head had to turn over her shoulder, and gods, she would not show fear – nor malice, nor menace, nor any of the other emotions registering through her.
Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she wanted to howl and bare her teeth and scream and rage at something.
“Amun,” she managed to say instead, digits curling over the edges of the glassware like a lifeline.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Zhanshi stared at Lena for a moment when the Caretaker failed to react. Wriggling about in the air, the landshark flew towards the jug. He tried to clamp down and begin gnawing at the lid of the jug she held.
When Amun heard her voice, he froze. "Lena," he responded in the exact same tone. Motionless for a long moment, finally his eyes trailed to his companion. "Zhanshi, stop that," the potter instructed the landshark.
Inevitably, the Ascended's gaze came back to meet hers squarely. Shifting his weight from side to side, he pulled on the strap of his bag with one hand. "I just came here to provide water." Keeping his other side palm out and by his side, he inclined his head to the well beside her.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Not now,, she softly, quietly pleaded with the landshark, while it strived to tear at the jug, attempting to get her attention. But she couldn’t fathom it at the moment, hands tightening along its rim, gnawing on places her heart had never gone. Into anger. Into rage. Into mourning and grief and a longing for her loved ones that she couldn’t have again.
And she didn’t really care that he was just here to provide water. Her eyes, much like flint, narrowed, and the traces of her innate kindness were traded for a neutrality that probably didn’t suit her. “My sister is dead.” A bold statement, tearing at her soul, fighting off an onslaught of something behind her gaze. “And many others.” Innocent lives, buried under rock and rubble and towers crumbling down. “Did that solve anything?” His actions? The retribution and vehemence? Had it been worth it?
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Zhanshi looked up at the Caretaker. However, it was only for a moment before the landshark wriggled around and started nibbling at the lid of the jar again. The whole time Amun kept his eyes trained on Lena. When she started speaking again, though, he took a deep breath.
Letting it out as a sigh, he met her gaze. "Do you remember the man I told you about? The one I was seeing? Kindest soul I ever met, wouldn't hurt a fly. He had two sisters." Pausing, he shook his head at her. "He was murdered by the Order. And many others." Spreading his hand, he bit his lip. "Did their deaths solve anything?"
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Perhaps Amun’s argument might have worked if Lena had been involved in those circumstances. Instead, his twisting and turning of logic irked and irritated her to the very core – an emotion she had difficulty in navigating, so rare the notions. Placing both her hands along Zhanshi, she strived to placate the animal in scratches and pets, and perhaps to distract her fleeting sentiments as they rattled around her mind. “From what you’ve told me, honoring such a gentle soul by killing scores of others doesn’t sound like something he would’ve wanted.”
She eventually lifted the lid, away from the landshark’s mouth, and began to tip the jar towards the well, but didn’t stray her eyes off the Ascended. Calm and composed, while on the inside there was a building, raucous fury. “Your deflection doesn’t excuse you from your actions.” Her teeth clenched, wondering, vaguely, if her sister’s death was so essentially meaningless to this oaf too – easily snapped and spurned, quantified by his rage. “And I cannot imagine it furthered your cause.” Except to render it in vitriol and vehemence; and at worst, detrimental to their own objectives and goals. "I have never been involved with the Order. Nor did many of those people in that hospital." So perhaps the question would be answered for him: it solved nothing at all.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Zhanshi rubbed against Lena's palms. However, the landshark didn't stay long, instead returning to Amun's feet. As she spoke, he narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps. But he's not here to ask anymore, is he?" Sighing, he grimaced.
She went on and he forced his features to smooth out. Walking towards the other side of the well, he slung his bag off his shoulder. Pausing, he stared across the well at her. "There is no excusing them. But...but this is war. Parents losing children, children losing parents, siblings forced to bury one another. Senseless, meaningless, loss. And for what? Because the gods said so?" Pulling a ceramic jug out, he took the lid off and began pouring water into it.
"My cause is the survival of the Ascended. The Order is opposed to our existence." As she brought up the hospital, he froze. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Finally, he resumed his efforts to supply hydration to the seasonal deity. "I did not know about the hospital. All I knew was that it was the Order's headquarters."
As she continued flinging accusations, he pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry for the loss of innocent life. But what about those outside the hospital? Including your sister. Were they involved in the Order?" He met her gaze squarely.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
“And you helped to continue that cycle of violence.” She shook her head, pouring her own water into the well, not wanting to be here much longer. “Surely there were other things you could’ve done.” Instead, there would be future thresholds to think about, beyond the impending doom. Victims traumatized as the building came crashing down around them. Children who’d lost their parents in the assault, yearning for vengeance just the same. News spread throughout each kingdom about the siege. Defenses and offenses rendered so the Ascended couldn’t touch their people. Short-sighted actions leading to long-term consequences; another notation piled along parchments of their crimes.
And while she might have fathomed the entire association with the Order, they hadn’t been the only people within. If the only excuse he could hold was ignorance…her teeth grated together, and she emptied the remains of the jar, watching the last few droplets cascade downwards. Then she backed away, the last statement causing her eyes to narrow. “You don’t deserve to know anything about my sister.”
Placing the cover on top of the vessel, she moved it to her bag, turning around, intending to go the way she’d first arrived, before night truly fell. “Good luck.” In anything and everything; by the sounds of it, he, and many others, were going to need it.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"Yes." Amun inclined his head at Lena's assessment. Eying her, he continued pouring his jug into the well. The water trickled out, shimmering in the heat of the desert.
As she refused to tell him anything about her sister, the potter sighed. Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together, though his gaze never strayed from the Caretaker. As she turned to leave, though, he cleared his throat. "That feeling of rage and impotence churning within you right now? That feeling that nothing will ever be right again and you don't know how to pick up the pieces of your shattered world? That you have to do something but don't know what?" Pausing, he grimaced. "That's how I have felt every time one of my kin was murdered by the followers of the old gods over the years."
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
“You don’t know how I feel,” and he was in no position to say how she’d act. How she’d want to unfurl. How she’d want to alter and change. And it certainly wouldn’t be the way he’d done – committing to atrocities, damnation, and death. “But I will not react the way you have.” A refusal to violence and vehemence, that kindness, that benevolence, that some of those extensions were better weapons than his attempt at obliterating lives. Chin raised, head held high, she tucked her jar back into her satchel.
There was no point in continuing the conversation. She’d made her peace, and he’d only further cemented her thoughts on the matter. Water poured, deity hopefully sated, she’d make her way back to Stormbreak, and begin to reassemble the pieces.
{FIN}
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
