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!
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
The burned out husk of the once clinic stood stark against the verdant backdrop of Haulani, even in the fading night. Charred and weathered by the unforgiving climate it looked worse now than when last she had seen it, and it said something as it had been wreathed in flames that time. No attempts to rebuild it had been made, as far as she could see, and Maea had yet to decide if it made everything better or worse.
A cold wind blew in from the Arclight ocean and whipped the unbound salt-white hair about her face where she stood. With her hands tucked away into deep pockets of a coat long since past its prime, the young woman had the look of a mourner at a wake, or perhaps a one time visitor to an almost-stranger's grave about her where she stood staring at the charred ruins. Lost to her own mind, she noticed little of what went on around her.
She had been standing there for hours, now. Before long, dawn would break over the horizon and force her to leave. Yet for a while longer she would remain. Had to remain.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Some things never change, and for Harper that means something far sadder these days. He’d thought that perhaps his past, the life he’d lived in his home world, would become a distant memory incapable of hurting or influencing him anymore. That Phoebe’s warmth and solidity would tether him to this world instead of the previous one.
But now she is gone, leaving him with an infant child and a gaping hole that cannot be filled, and Harper is no better than a ghost.
He goes where he is told. Performs his duties in Maeve’s name, exemplary council member as always. And he tends to his son. There is nothing more, nothing less. He struggles - Gods, how he struggles - but he lets nobody see it. Nobody remains who cares to look deeper, so it is laughably easy to do so.
Tonight is a night of wandering aimlessly. His son is bundled against his chest, barely any skin visible given the chill of the night. Only the soothing rock of Harper’s gait seems to get him to sleep these nights. Growing pains, he suspects. A hurt he can’t take away. It kills him. There seems to be no limit to the ways he can fail this small, budding life.
As they walk, Harper remains alert as his years of training forcefully ground into him. Even the exhaustion at the back of his mind cannot supersede it. So Maea’s pale figure in the twilight is both unmistakable and immediately spotted. Harper pauses for a moment, debating. Then the steady beat of his footsteps returns, and he draws even to Maea’s side. Not quite touching, but close. Staring at the clinic beside her. How many others know of this sin of hers now? Harper had never told another soul. “Thinking about the past?” Or was she contemplating amends for the future? His voice is a soft, hoarse rumble. Ill-used. Tired. But warm, always warm, as Harper will never learn not to be.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
She only registered the warmth of his presence as a side-note at the back of her mind. That was perhaps the saddest part of what she had become, and the one thing Maea might always struggle with. What she wouldn't do, to truly feel the bite of cold or the melting comfort of a touch again.
At least some of the numbness was fading. That icy indifference that had ruled her last time they met had begun to evaporate, slowly but surely, and while she was distant and thoughtful even now it was but lingering dregs that swirled in her gaze as she slowly turned to look at Harper.
"Yes," she admitted. "I've begun to realize how much I truly lost, here. Doing what I did. I thought coming back might help me figure out what to do with what's left, but... so far, I don't have any answers."
She studied him even as she spoke, taking in the hollows beneath his eyes, the weariness. Mercury eyes dropped to the bundle in his arms; surprise flickered there for an instant, soon followed by understanding. Her brows pinched downward in a slight frown. "Yours?" she asked, with a nudge of a chin towards the babe - though she already guessed at the answer.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
He can tell, as she turns to him, that the ice surrounding her has begun to thaw. It still holds her trapped, limbs frozen in painful contortions echoing the last dying pose of a woman already lost to time now. But perhaps once she is free, they can begin to move again. In different angles and movements, maybe, but with the same soulful intent behind their motions. It cheers him, a little, to see more presence behind her eyes as they connect with his own blues, bruised around the edges as they are.
“You could rebuild it,” he offers for lack of anything better. “Sometimes the act of creation can be healing, especially when it is something destroyed by your hands. I know Nate’s brother is a nurse, and I’ve been teaching first aid at the little school for adults I teach at. I’m sure someone would enjoy it if it was offered.” Perhaps not Nate himself, but that forgiveness was a battle unto itself. Perhaps this could be one with a guaranteed success instead.
He hadn’t expected her to overlook his son, or to refrain from asking, so it’s a rather anticipated question. One scarred hand comes up to gently cradle the back of the boy’s head in the sling against his chest, staring down at the tiny sliver of nose and closed eyes visible. “…yeah. Phoebe she’s - I don’t know where she is now. Maybe Frey took her somewhere again, like when she was in her cocoon before becoming a demigod. I don’t know,” and though he tries for it to come out blasé, simple, there is a deep and wretched hurt and grief that lives in those words, “so it’s just me and him now.” For better or worse.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
Her head tilted aside a fraction, pensive as attention was returned to the charred husk of a building. "I never thought of it," she murmured. "Perhaps... Though I don't know the first thing about healing. Someone else would have to manage it." But it might be a better form of atonement than running. It wouldn't help Nate, probably, and of course never quite make up for what pain and suffering she had caused... but at least the chapter might be closed in her own book, at least? She would ponder it. "What's his name, Nate's brother?"
As it turned out, Maea had been right. While never one to coo over children, her expression softened as she regarded what part of the baby that was visible. Reminded of Remi's child, of her brother's kids when they were little, of so many things - it took the edge off the fury and reduced it to a simmering thing as Harper told her of Phoebe's disappearance. In the depths of those voluminous pockets, fingers clenched into fists.
"She's worse than me when it comes to disappearing acts," she murmured, without an ounce of forgiveness. Demigod or not - some things were just inexcusable. Maea leaned in a fraction, until her shoulder brushed against Harper's. A small touch, easily stepped away from should it be unwelcome - but it was more sympathy than she had offered anyone in a long time.
Anyone aside from Amun, that is.
"Do you need anything?" Company, distractions, an extra set of hands - it was an open offer. A quick glance at the steely light in the east suggested she didn't have much time left to linger; at least not outside.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Her consideration of the idea at all is enough to bring a small, encouraging smile to his face. Wanting so much better for her. He could never cross over to her side, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still too human, too soft, to not still care for her. “You could offer it up once it’s repaired, as a council member I can find some leads to find someone who would utilize it well.” That way she could wash her hands of it once it was done without needing to find a suitable owner on her own. “His name is Bartholomew. Bit of a coarse guy, but nice.” And very adamantly pro-Ascended, given his twin, and as such a safe person for her to meet. So long as she didn’t reveal her hand in the fire.
Her anger is partially missed, only glimpsed at the end as it simmers and tempers, as he looks up from his child’s face. The loyal husband inside demands he defend Phoebe, but the newly born father is firmly rooted on the side Maea presents. Jaded, angry, hurt by the abandonment. Not just of him this time, but their child. A child who would grow up without knowing their mother’s face or voice. Abandonment of just him he could forgive, but their son…
“I know,” he says softly instead, a middle ground answer that doesn’t sour his tongue too badly to think ill of the woman he loves. Harper leans into Maea’s shoulder in turn, soaking up the companionship desperately. How long since he has been touched with intention? Something more than a brush of hands or bump of shoulders in the market? He feels seen for the first time in a season - perhaps more - like Maea has reached through his gossamer edges and tethered him back to reality. Making him tangible once more. “A friend would be nice,” he admits, never one to shy away from vulnerability or asking for what he needs. Glancing at the sky and then down at his son, he leans into Maea a fraction more. “He doesn’t sleep unless we’re walking sometimes, but clearly it’s worked. Come back with me?” They could shelter inside easily enough, and she would be welcome to stay until the sun went down again.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
A slight incline of her neck accepts the name and the offer, a quiet promise to remember. "I forgot you're on the council. I'll think about it, and let you know what I decide, yeah?" Though the slight smile she offered him suggested she was already halfway there. And maybe it wouldn't solve anything, but wasn't she on a quest to fill her days anyway? It didn't matter whether they were spent here on in the Grounds.
There was that offer to keep in touch, too. Turning a chance meeting into something more connective, lasting; though she had denied it last time, and many times since, Harper was a friend. One of the few she still had who remembered a kinder, softer girl yet did not balk at what she had become. Sometimes she resented that, but here, right now? The quiet touch, shoulder to shoulder, was as much an anchor for her.
"You have one," came her gentle response. Her arm came away from its confinement to sling around Harper's back instead, in a gesture of camaraderie that did not come easy to her. Nor was it a natural response to simply follow him home, yet she did so anyway. "Lead the way." Another glance at the child, then her gaze turned to the road ahead as she allowed Harper to guide them to wherever. "Does he have a name yet?" she asked about his son.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Smiles rise in tandem, and his curls - becoming overgrown now, too busy with his son to care much for the stubble on his cheeks or the length of his hair - bounce with the slight nod of acceptance. “Whenever you’re ready.” If ever. He would be here regardless of what she decided or when.
He leans into her embrace with a certainty in her strength that would seem laughable given their size and weight differences. But he knows she was strong long before she Ascended, knows she won’t falter beneath his burdens or his body.
There is little time to linger there in her hold, so he soaks it up as long as he can before they are forced to part and he must lead the way onward. “His name is Jude,” he offers quietly, loathe to wake the babe after all the effort he’d gone to to ensure sleep came at all. They’re not far from his home at least, and he’s grateful for that. The house is new - they’d been split between Stormbreak and Torchline, him and Phoebe, and this home had been his alone to return to when not visiting her in Stormbreak until she had decided to move back for the birth. As such it is more Harper’s than the two of them combined. Filled with baby items, only just barely coordinated in terms of cleanliness. Nothing special to look at. “I know it’s not much, but you can make yourself comfortable while I get him down.” And he begins doing so, clearly well-practiced at loosening the sling and settling the babe in the bassinet which stands directly next to the bed - always within reach. Once Jude is safely transferred (and thankfully still asleep) Harper turns back to Maea.
“I don’t want you to be stuck in here all day. Can you be in the sun if you’re shifted?” As much as his body craves sleep of its own, Harper knows it won’t happen. The sun is rising, and therefore he must be up and about to fulfill his duties. “You can stay as long as you’d like of course, but I know it’s not the most stimulating of places.” And the wry twist of his smile is self-deprecating, perhaps ashamed.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
A soft hum of acknowledgement was all she offered, content to respect the need for silence as they crossed the city in search for shelter. It was a quick walk, and she was grateful for it. Even as they slipped inside she could feel the rise in temperature dull the responsiveness of her body like a weight settled across the shoulders. Being outside for long would be downright dangerous; the reason why she had holed up in the Fingers, last time she made this region a temporary home.
The house they entered was simple yet filled all the basic needs. She passed the time taking in the details - the absence of a woman's fussy touch - while Harper saw to his son, and considered herself entertained with seeing something that wasn't already familiar. Maea's mouth quirked aside in a smile as she turned towards her friend - the word tasted novel and pleasant even in her own mind - and shook her head slightly at the expression on his face.
"I'm staying with my brother, currently, in his pottery studio. Meant for one, but since neither of us sleep, it works. Compared to that, this is a palace."
Turning towards him as he finished up, she blinked at the offer. Surprise widened her eyes, and a dark flush crept over her cheeks. A glance out a window revealed the sun to be well on the way towards rising now; not good for her in normal circumstances. But shifted... "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've never tried. Are - are you sure you want to offer that? Bites come with... side effects. As you probably already know." And he was married, wasn't he? Runaway wife or no.
And she tried - really tried - to shove the memory of a dying Fae from her mind, because she did not want to dwell on the way death and ecstasy had mingled. Not in this place. Not if it meant Nephele's face might swap for his, even for an instant.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
He falters over the word brother for a moment, before he remembers that it’s rather commonplace in Caido for those titles to be shared in absence of blood. It’s a camaraderie he respects, but hasn’t otherwise experienced since leaving his home world. “Welcome to the palace then, your highness,” he remarks gallantly, bowing with a small grin. It’s far less dramatic than his normal boyish charm, shoulders slumped and a small wince to his face when he straightens.
It’s followed by a soft, understanding look at her fluster. “I know it does, but I can control myself. And frankly I don’t see you that way, it would be a purely physical reaction.” One he was trained to ignore as a killer, and then had ignored further out of fear of ever being close to someone again - until his last two loves. “If one moment of awkwardness means you have the freedom to come and go safely, that’s a price I’m willing to pay. But it’s only an offer - you’re welcome to stay here until nightfall too.” But until she decides, he lingers on his feet.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
Maea returned the smile with a rather good attempt at a grin of ease and lightness, even if it was turned off kilter and crooked from worry as she saw how tired he was. There was an impulse to immediately try and forego this talk of shifts and feelings in favor of simply tucking Harper to bed. But she made herself listen; he had asked for a friend, not a babysitter.
Heaving a deep sigh as he explained his stance, she looked him up and down, quietly assessing. Maybe it should have hurt to be so summarily dismissed as a potential love interest. Maybe, yet all she felt about it was a distant relief.
"I think I can endure one moment of awkward," she returned, and flashed him a sharp toothed smile that couldn't entirely hide how her fingers trembled when she extended a hand with a courteous bow. "With your permission then, my lord?" She sauntered closer, with a kind of predatory confidence that was entirely fake. Waiting for his permission before doing anything at all.
She didn't have a deathwish anymore, after all.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
05-24-2022, 08:07 PM (This post was last modified: 05-24-2022, 08:08 PM by Harper.)
you have survived every moment of your life
even the ones you swore you wouldn't
It’s a good thing she is not offended, because he is far too tired to control his tongue more carefully. It’s true he could never see her as a romantic partner - but he does still see her as someone to care for, a friend, perhaps a confidant given all they’ve shared already.
A weakness, maybe. To be determined by all the future holds.
But he is weak enough already, and there is time later to worry about such things. He is trained to spot the tremble of her hands, and even her feigned confidence cannot distract him. Smiling gently, he reaches for the one she extends, holding it with a gentlemanly softness he trusts her sensors will communicate to her. “Permission granted, my lady,” he chuckles, pulling her hand close - and perhaps pulling her summarily out of her bow - and dropping a kiss to her knuckles in a turning of the tables she might have intended with her dramatic gesture. Then offering their tangled fingers closer to her face - wrist upturned and offered sincerely for her to take from.
Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
She was indeed pulled forward, because Harper was far stronger than Maea had expected. Stumbling a few steps, she pulled up a fraction before crashing into him completely and tried very hard to look like it had been the intention all along.
She needn't have, of course. Harper somehow managed to turn something awkward and frightening into a moment, something a little funny and rather sweet. Never mind that the girl flushed ever so slightly when his lips touched her hand - never mind too that her own mouth quivered as she bowed her neck over the oh so elegantly offered wrist.
It was a struggle from there. To make herself open the mouth and find the veins, to gather enough strength in the jaw to actually sink sharp fangs down through layers of skin until blood welled up. The sensation that rose in response was a murky vortex of mingled ecstacy and dread. Something innocent and lovely turned rancid and tainted by fear and trauma. Maea tensed against the surging tide, and endured it only the time it took for her to rummage through the outer reaches of Harper's abilities - then she abruptly let go and turned away.
Thin shoulders shook as she braced against the back of a chair, desperately trying to compose herself.
Maea
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
It’s clear she is struggling, and he’s grateful she cannot feel him through the bond just yet, because he pities her so much that his chest aches with each slow breath. This is not the life he wanted for her. For any of them. To see her struggle so plainly with something that should be intrinsic to her new race. It only makes it clearer how much she regrets the decision she made, and he knows he can’t help her navigate that but he wants to all the same.
The bite itself stings only the briefest moment; the pleasure thereafter is far harder to bear. It brings red flags up in his mind’s eye immediately, training kicking in so hard he has to steady his own arm with the other, hand wrapping at the elbow so he doesn’t jerk it out of her teeth. He hates it, just as he was unnerved by Phoebe’s magical allure and ability to create pleasure from nothing. It is too similar to mind-altering substances he’d been trained to recognize and fight against. Jaw clenched, they both seem to struggle with the act, and when it’s over he clenches his fist to force himself to lower his arm at a reasonable rate. Smiling is easy, against all odds. A defense mechanism of joy. And he reaches to comfort her with a hand to the shoulder, as they stand there in the slowly brightening house, her freedom assured because of his offer - but neither of them happy about how it was achieved.
