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!
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
The letter had been sent and preparations had been made. It was easy to make the rounds, starting in Halo before returning to Torchline to make her way to Stormbreak, the Greatwood, and finally the Grounds. Her last stop before she made the trek home. This trip was a bit more in depth, requiring preparation that the others did not, but it was going to be completely worth it. Maeve already knew.
She shivers as the cool air nips at the bare skin of her shoulders and collarbones, completely exposed in her rather impractical dress, but the Nightshade doesn't care. She told Amun to come dressed in his best and she was going to do the same. Sure, a ballgown wasn't fit for travel. It wasn't really fit for anything, but there was something about wandering the streets of stony ruins dressed in the garment that made her feel otherworldly.
Situating herself at a highpoint, wanting a clear view of the stars, the Nightshade sets the scene. A blanket, wine, candles (safely locked away in lanterns), and herself all sit arranged beautifully as she waits for her guest.
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
Amun wasn't dressed in a ballgown, and his clothes were marginally more practical than that. Still, he wore a pair of tight black pants, shiny black boots, and a royal blue shirt with silver thread embroidered in the shape of a swan. In his hands he held a bouquet of roses interspersed with some small white blooms. They were held together by a delicate set of iron wires that resembled a snake and placed in a vase decorated with a smattering of constellations.
As he approached the meeting spot, he easily spotted Maeve in her perch. Whistling a few notes to a romantic tune, he swept into a bow and called out to her. "Belladonna!" Straightening up, he grinned. "I brought these for you." Holding up the flowers he inclined his head to her.
"Be careful, my beautiful poison ivy. The roses still have their thorns and the while blooms are as deadly as you are." He winked, but he was entirely serious: the second set of flowers were water hemlock.
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
She should have guessed that Amun did nothing in halves. A bright smile finds its way to painted lips as she stands, dipping into a low curtsy of her own as he bows, ”You’re too kind.” The Nightshade insists, taking the flowers from him gingerly, inspecting the blooms. Normally she hated roses, but she’s willing to make an exception as she notices the white petals of the other flower. Her brows raise, jade eyes flicking up to his as a smirk moves to replace the smile. ”They’re absolutely beautiful. Especially the hemlock. I love them.”
The tips of her fingers dance a hair’s breadth away from the poisonous blooms, tracing the outline of one delicately before she moves to set the vase down carefully on the blanket with the rest of their picnic. ”How did you know I was a fan of snakes too?” She asks, taking his hand and tugging him towards the blanket, lowering herself so that she might sit for a moment.
Maeve reaches for the two glasses, knowing that Amun didn’t really need to drink, nor would he feel the effects of the wine, but that wasn’t the point. It was a night of indulgences as far as she was concerned.
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
Amun met Maeve's smirk with a grin. "Kindness has nothing to do with it. I'm simply giving you your proper due," he insisted right back at her. Letting her inspect the floral arrangement, he nodded at her gratitude. "You're very welcome. I figured a gardener of your skill would have a proper appreciation for them." His grin deepened.
Accepting her hand, he let himself be drawn to the blanket. Waiting until she was settled, he sank down himself, shifting into a cross-legged position. "A lucky guess. I suppose it wasn't such a stretch to go from poisonous plants to venomous animals. And I personally have always felt that serpents didn't get nearly enough credit or appreciation." As she picked up the glasses, he took the wine. "May I?" If she agreed, he'd uncork the bottle and pour it for them.
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
"My proper due?" The queen asked with an arched brow, curious as to what made him say that. She nodded, glancing back at the flowers once more, "Absolutely. You should see my garden at the Court. It's full of various plants like this. Datura, foxglove, nightshade, and even moonflowers." The later of which seemed to glow under the full moon. There weren't many she invited into that portion of the garden, but she would let Amun in if he was interested.
Tucking her legs beneath her, Maeve hummed as she released his hand, "I actually have a snake tattoo on my ribs. They've always been my favorites." Vipers and hanging snakes alike. She adored finding the little serpents in the trees, often leaving little treats for them when she did, allowing them to stay as long as they pleased. "By all means." Maeve murmured, holding the glasses steady for him so he might pour them both a drink.
"I know this doesn't really do much for you, but I did promise a good time." And it wasn't exactly a date, but if they were playing pretend that might as well do the damn thing and commit.
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
"Of course." Amun grinned at Maeve. "What you deserve as a Queen, a woman, and just a person. Nothing but the best." Inclining his head, he gestured at the vase and bouquet. "I'm just glad I was able to get it together in time."
Cocking his head to one side, he arched an eyebrow as she described her garden. "That sounds beautiful. Not to be too forward, but I would love to see it some time." His grin slid into something more closer resembling a smile. Running a hand across the blanket, he relaxed a bit. "You put together a beautiful spread. Thank you." He gestured at both her and everything she'd brought.
"Is that so? When did you get it?" Pouring them both a generous glass of the wine, he wiped the droplet that tried to slide down the glass with a cloth he pulled from his pocket. Setting the bottle down, he picked up his cup. Holding it up for a toast he nodded. "You did. I'll drink to that. To a good time, and many good times ahead."
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
The Nightshade huffed a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at him even if she appreciated what he was saying. ”You flatter me, Amun.” Still, Maeve allowed herself to soak up the attention, unable to recall the last time she’d been doted on in such a way. Call her selfish, but she was going to savor it while she could. ”I’m not surprised you were able to.” The queen complimented easily.
”It isn’t forward at all. I’d love for you to see it. Not many have.” Ans while that might have been her own doing, Maeve wasn’t opposed to sharing the space with someone who was just as appreciative of it as she was. Her own smile was just as genuine, a soft flush rising high on the apples of her cheeks, standing out beautifully against her alabaster skin. ”I’m glad you like it.”
Her head cocked to the side, considering for a moment, ”Probably about five years ago now. I got it right before I started taking clients at the Halenani.” Maeve finally settled on, drawing her cup back and passing him his own after he set down the bottle. Delicately clinking her glass against his, Maeve took a sip of wine, sighing as it spread across her tongue.
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
Nodding at her compliment, Amun smiled at the accusation of flattery. Cocking his head to one side, he arched an eyebrow at her. "Why shouldn't I flatter you, poison ivy? It sounds like you don't quick think you deserve it."
Grinning at the prospect of seeing the garden, he inclined his head to her. "I'm looking forward to it." Humming as she explained the origin of her tattoo, he took a sip of his wine. "Was there any symbolism to it or meaning beyond that specific timing?" He shifted so he could prop himself up on one elbow and tuck his legs behind him.
"Now, as much as I'd like to believe you are simply here for the pleasure of my company, your note mentioned stargazing. I understand the dancing, but was there a reason for the celestial sightseeing?" He tilted his head back so he could look at the sky above. Unfortunately it was a bit overcast at the moment but some stars were visible.
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
It wasn't that she didn't deserve it, but more that she'd become used to the utter lack of it. At least, any genuine form of flattery. If it could be such a thing. The Nightshade hummed, dipping her head slightly as a flush colored her cheeks. "Most of the flattery I receive these days is simply because someone wants something from me." Her bare shoulders lifted into a slight shrug.
"Just find me the next time you're in Torchline. I spend much of my time at the Court so it shouldn't be too hard to track me down." The Queen murmured, chasing the words with another sip of wine. As for the tattoo, that was another easy question. "They're constantly growing. They aren't afraid to lose a part of themselves to do it, either. Graceful and sometimes unassuming, but no less dangerous for it. It just seemed fitting."
She grew quiet, a slight unease clinging to her slender frame, lips pursing as she glanced down at him. They hadn't discussed the gods the last time they were together and Maeve wasn't sure of his stance. He was a follower of the Voice and that typically came with certain opinions of the heralds. Maeve drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it for a few heartbeats before finally speaking, "I'm meant to find a constellation that I resonate with for a quest."
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
"Well those people are fools, then." Amun grinned at Maeve. "I promise, the only thing I want from you is your company." Hesitating, he let out a bark of laughter. "That and maybe some information," he admitted. "But hopefully nothing too intrusive." Shrugging, he swirled the wine in his glass around a few times.
Nodding at her offer, he smiled. However, it faltered for a moment. "At the risk of sounding like one of the fools I was just criticizing...what is the sentiment in Torchline towards the Ascended? Don't answer if you'd rather not discuss such weighty matters this evening. I was just curious" He looked away from her and took a sip from his wine.
When she explained the symbolism behind her tattoo, he hummed a low note. Gaze drawn back, he gave her a quick once over. "That's beautiful. Do you have any other tattoos?"
Eying her lips as she bit them and arching an eyebrow as the moment stretched out, he let out a sigh when she replied "Mmm." He inclined his head to her. "I take it from your rather terse response and the fact that it involves stars that it's for Safrin and by admitting that you're worried about a vociferous response from me?" Chuckling, he shook his head. "Don't worry. Despite what you might have heard, I am perfectly capable of setting aside my religious opinions for the sake of a pleasant evening." He raised his glass and tilted it towards her just a smidge.
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
He doesn't mean it in a bad way. She knows this. Yet his words settle like lead in the pit of her stomach, the wine no longer spreading as sweetly across her tongue, making her nose wrinkle slightly. "Information, huh? I suppose you wouldn't be the first." The Nightshade murmurs, a smile twitching on her lips, but it isn't as warm as the last few have been.
And there it was. Maeve sighs, lowering her glass to rest against her thigh, "Torchline is sworn to Safrin, but the Ascended aren't barred from the region. I don't have plans to fight unless we must." Her eyes flick up to him, trying her best to gauge his response, unsure of how he'd take that. "Adam and Pet were some of the last Ascended that I knew living there, but even they left for the Grounds..." Not that she blamed them. Hell, she'd even encouraged it. Not wanting them hurt if they stayed.
"I do. I have one that goes from my ankle up to my right shoulder." So saying, she shifts her hair from where it's covering up the delicate line work. The same flowers she's named for winding across her skin.
Maeve winces, "Sorry, it's just a sensitive topic these days." The Queen shakes her head, shoulders sagging even as she brings the wine back to her lips. "I hate talking about it. It feels like as soon as people find out who you follow they look at you differently."
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
Nodding as Maeve explained the situation in Torchline, Amun smiled at her. "Thank you." Taking a sip from his wine, he eyed the small hint of the tattoo she revealed. Tracing the path she described up her body, he cocked his head to one side. "How long did that take?"
As she apologized, he grinned and shook his head. "No need to apologize. It's not your fault the world is going mad all around us." Chuckling, he shrugged one shoulder. "Now that I have made the situation sufficiently awkward, why don't I promise to steer clear of such sensitive topics for the rest of the night." He shot her a wink.
Why would you make out of words A cage for your own bird?
For what it's worth, Amun doesn't make her feel worse about things. The Nightshade feels relief wash over her, following it with a sip of wine, letting her nerves slowly unwind once more. "You're welcome..." She murmurs, setting her glass back down again. "It probably took more sixteen hours total. It's a rather large piece." The Nightshade hikes up the skirt of her dress, sticking out a leg so he can see where it travels up from her ankle towards her knee before disappearing beneath her skirt.
"No, I suppose it's not. Just hate that this is how things are." With another shake of her head, Maeve finishes what's in her glass before giving him a small smile. "How about that dancing?"
When it sings so sweet The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?
Sweeping his gaze over the tattoo that Maeve revealed, Amun let his eyes tracked along the path the inked blooms must take up her body before meeting her gaze. "Beautiful." Then he arched an eyebrow at her. "That's a long time. Did you do it all in one sitting?" He whistled at the thought of that.
Shrugging a shoulder, he swirled the wine in his glass as he stared into it. "But it is." Clearing his throat, he took a sip of his drink. "I thought you'd never ask." Smiling, he set his cup down. Standing up, he swept into a bow. "Might I have the pleasure of this next dance?" Straightening up, he held out his hand to her.
