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!
How were there always so many letters? Maeve sighs, dipping her quill into the well of purple ink, penning out yet another response to one of the many inquiries on her desk. She signs it with a flourish, blowing on the page for the ink to dry before carefully folding it, drizzling the dark purple wax in a dollop before pressing her seal into it. Unable to stand the thought of writing another letter, the Nightshade instead stands, rolling her wrist a few times as it pops in a release of tension. Moving instead towards the cart set up in the corner, she sets her mind on making a pot of tea, hanging the kettle over the fire that's burning in the hearth.
A knock sounds at the door moment and she straightens, brows drawing together in confusion as she approaches the door, opening it slowly. Only when she sees Harper on the other side, looking exhausted with a baby strapped to his chest, does she let out a breath. "Harper, love, come in. Is everything alright?"
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
Harper never anticipated being a father. He’d always dreamed of starting a family, but only in the vague sort of daydreams that any family-minded man had. In his home world he knew his life was too dangerous, too involved, to ever see that through. But then he’d ended up in Caido. Had met Phoebe. And things had finally seemed like they could be different.
Except at the end of the day, they weren’t. He got his wish - and he lost something else.
He doesn’t know where Phoebe is. If she’s lost to sickness and wandering as he once had been. If she is cocooned once more in Frey’s arms, like the last time he lost her. All he knows is she is gone, leaving him behind with a child he is learning to care for alone.
That’s not to say Harper is a bad father. No; he is entirely devoted to Jude, to learning everything he can about infant care and combining it with his own modern day knowledge of medicine and child rearing. He refuses to forsake his council duties or his teaching position, and so Jude comes with him to everything in the sling that keeps the babe tethered to Harper’s chest.
Except Harper can’t remember the last time he slept, now.
Jude is a sensitive, colicky baby. Harper internalizes it terribly, convinced if Phoebe were around that things would be easier. That it’s a reflection of his parenting somehow. When Jude cries, Harper cries with him, terrible quiet things that shake his shoulders that strain beneath the weight of raising a baby alone for the first time. Jude won’t sleep through the night without the rocking sensation of Harper walking, and so his nights are spent wandering the neighborhood.
He can’t do it anymore.
He shows up at the Court, curls too long and stubble days old. His own needs forsaken in favor of Jude’s. And when Maeve answers the door, tears prick his eyes and burn color to his cheeks, ashamed but knowing even then that Maeve is family before she is his Queen. She will help him. He knows it. So he steps slightly forward into the half-opened door, and he bows his head towards her smaller frame and tries not to cry. “I need help, Mae-bell,” he chokes, voice thick. “I can’t do it alone. I can’t -” and the dam splinters and breaks, and the tears come quiet as they always do now, trained into silence long before but a habit kept anew to prevent his grief from worsening Jude’s cries these days. He leans towards Maeve and knows she will catch him.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
The Nightshade barely has a moment to react. The door opens and he’s there with Jude strapped to his chest the way he always is, but if he doesn’t look worse for wear. His hair to long, clothes more than a few days old, stubble on his cheeks, and bruises painted beneath his eyes. Maeve’s lips part as she goes to speak, noticing the tale tell glassy sheen that signal tears in his eyes when he’s stumbling forward into her. Her arms come around him instantly, holding him close to her chest as she shushes him gently, ”Hey… Harp, love, it’s okay. You’re okay.” The tone of her voice is dulcet against his temple, meant to soothe him as much as the fussy baby between them, knowing that any disturbance would set the child to crying.
Petal soft lips find the top of his head, easily folding his taller frame against her own, not off put in the slightest as she ushers him into her office. The door closes, hiding them away from world and anyone who might dare to judge the pair. ”Come on…” Leading him towards the couch, Maeve urges him to sit, crouching down in front of him and taking the time to carefully unwrap the sling from around his neck. Jude doesn’t even get a chance to start whimpering as Maeve takes him into her arms, rocking him gently as a pitiful whine sounds from the babe, but is quickly shushed by the Nightshade.
She’s seen enough babies to know what colic looks like and a quiet sigh pushes past her lips. ”Edmund was colicky too. Gods, I was so scared the whole time. I was sure I was doing something wrong.” Maeve murmurs, huffing a quiet laugh as Jude settles in her arms, a little fist wrapped around her finger. She sits next to him then, turning herself slightly to look him over, brows pinching together. ”I didn’t have anyone to tell me that it just happens. That I wasn’t doing it to him. I was sure it was my fault, but it turns out he just had a sensitive tummy. I found that a little fennel oil mixed with the formula and rubbing their tummy after they eat did wonders.”
Her words aren’t condescending, simply spoken and shared in confidence, a small smile on her lips as she lays Jude in her lap to carefully rub his belly through the onesie he’s wearing. Instantly he begins to grow quiet, still holding onto her finger as his legs kick out, testing his freedom of movement.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
He folds into her like a wilting flower, Jude protected between their chests even as he lets his shoulders bough beneath the weight of all he has been carrying. The tears are silent, choking any further words down into his stomach where they roll restless and acidic, shame bitter and caustic between. Jude is only a few months old and already he is failing. But he trusts Maeve implicitly, enough to follow her like a lost lamb as she leads him to the couch and gently unwraps the sling that he wears like a second skin.
Without Jude’s weight and warmth he feels untethered, lost, but Maeve’s soft voice calls out into the void and pulls him back down before he can drift too far. He’s grateful beyond measure when she rises to sit beside him instead, moving himself closer so their thighs press together and he can bury his face in her shoulder, arms limp between his knees. His breaths shudder pitifully against her skin, the wetness on his cheeks transferring to her blouse.
She makes it sound so easy. So simple. A fix he couldn’t have known without asking, but which feels like a bandaid trying to cover a crater. “I don’t know how to do this without her,” Harper croaks into Maeve’s shoulder. “I don’t understand. Why did she have to leave? Not me but…but him.” Because Harper has borne greater injustices and wounds from those he loves. He would have accepted the agony of her leaving him. But Jude? He can’t make it make sense, and the constant fear that she’s in danger, or gone forever, is a waking nightmare he can’t shake. “Everyone says I’m doing fine, but I don’t think I am. I don’t know how to be everything he needs.” Not just a father, but a mother too now.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
The tears that stain the shoulder of her dress are of little consequence. There was little that Harper could do to dissuade her in this moment. Even as he slumps against her, words choked and full of pain so familiar that Maeve feels her own heart breaking again. Except Phoebe wasn’t like Locke. It wasn’t the same. No where near the same. ”I don’t know, Harper. There has to be a reason. I know Phoebe. She wanted nothing more than to have a child with someone who loved her.” It she left, there had to have been a reason. She feels it in her gut. Nothing else made sense.
”It’s okay not to know,” Maeve reassures him readily, turning slightly to press another kiss against his forehead, leaning lightly against him. ”You don’t have to be everything. I won’t let you do this alone. You didn’t abandon me and I won’t abandon you.” Jude has already grown quiet in her lap, starting to doze off under her attentions, eyelids drooping with each second that passes.
Only when he snuffles quietly, finally asleep, does Maeve draw him into her arms again. She still has Edmund’s old bassinet in here, not having the mind to move it out of the space and into storage. Standing, the Nightshade places him in the bassinet, setting it to rock gently before she returns to the kettle. It’s no trouble to make him a cup of tea, pressing it into his hands as she joins him once more, ”Come stay with me, Harp. Take over my spare bedroom. Edmund is in his own space now and we can set the nursery back up for Jude. You don’t have to be alone.”
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
The worst part is that he knows that. Knows Phoebe would move heaven and earth to be with them. So then what had to have happened for her absence to be so keen and seemingly permanent? He can’t put voice to the fears, instead rubbing tightly pursed lips against the smooth, wetted fabric of her dress in silent shake of his head. Her own find his forehead, patching the broken bits with the small moments of physicality and comfort. The quiet alone is a relief on his aching head and heart. Sleep, at last, for his son. He could cry all over again with the tsunami of emotions that arise seemingly without reason at the realization that Jude has fallen asleep under Maeve’s soothing fingers.
He withdraws just enough to let her by when she stands, eyes gritty and sore with sleep deprivation and tears alike. But while the sentiment she spoke was expected, the offer is not. He takes the teacup automatically, movements mechanical, as his eyes widen and look up into hers. Denial is the first knee jerk reaction. “No - Maeve, I can’t. You already have so much to do, we both do, you can’t have a newborn keeping you up at night. We can’t both be compromised.” His voice croaks from overuse, hours of singing and cajoling and crying alongside his son, and so he soothes it moments later with a long drink of the slightly too-hot tea. Unable to even summon a flinch as it burns his tongue.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Maeve arches a dark brow, scoffing out a sound of disbelief, "Harper Quinn. Are you really telling me what I can and cannot do?" The Nightshade shakes her head, "You must be more sleep deprived than I thought." Taking a slow sip of her tea, careful not to burn herself like Harper had certainly done to his own tongue, she waits a moment to let his mind clear with the warmth of the beverage. "I was queen when I had Edmund and I did it all then. I will do it now."
It was such a small inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. Even calling it an inconvenience at all was inaccurate. It was an honor to be able to return the favor to someone she adored as much as him. Harper had been a constant in her life. Ever since she set foot in the Halenani he had looked over her and kept her safe. They might not share blood, but they were family.
Reaching out to gently cup his cheek, finger brushing across the stubble that covered his skin, expression softening as she regards him with nothing but love in her jade gaze. "Harp, please... It kills me to see you like this. You would do the same for me in a heartbeat. Hell, you practically did. I'd been so scared, but I got through it because of you." She leans towards him, resting their foreheads together lightly, a smile curling on her lips as she holds him there. "Stay with me."
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
His smile is sheepish even beneath the heavy bags below his eyes. As if he could ever presume to order Maeve about, as a man or a councilman. “Maybe I am, forgive me my Lady,” he croaks over his burned tongue, grateful for the chance to find amusement in something again. For now he merely clutches the tea in his tired hands, letting the warmth soothe the aches of the heavily scarred joints that throb from too many extended days of use. And when she reaches for him, something behind her eyes that he can’t place, Harper leans into her touch trustingly and closes his eyes.
It makes the delivery of her words more profound, more difficult to argue with, but he doesn’t regret it. With his eyes closed everything else is closer, sharper. The scent of her perfume, the tea in their hands, the faint scent of milk staining his own shirt. This sitting room alone has a smell so familiar to him he could pick it out blind. And the reason why is exactly as she says - because he had practically lived her when Edmund was a squalling baby. Phoebe had been in Stormbreak, and all Harper had of his own was an empty house and her fading scent on the sheets. So he’d stayed. Occupied Edmund when Maeve needed a nap, bathed and changed and fed him as needed. It had seemed simple to him then. Now, with the shoe on the other foot, he supposes it just seem simple to Maeve. But it seems infinitely large to Harper. Had it felt like that, to her, when he’d done it?
Resting their foreheads together, Harper huffs a tired laugh. “Telling you no has never worked for me in the past,” he teases fondly. Falling quiet for a moment as he thinks, lifting one hand to cover hers where it cradles his cheek. “Okay,” he whispers, vulnerable in a way he’d only ever been with her and Phoebe. “Okay, we’ll stay.” Opening his eyes slowly, finding them still gritty - her promises couldn’t fix everything immediately after all - Harper shifts back just enough to part their foreheads, leaving room to place a lingering kiss on her brow. “Thank you Mae-bell,” he murmurs against her skin.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
05-25-2022, 11:42 PM (This post was last modified: 05-25-2022, 11:42 PM by Maeve.)
Maeve
"You're forgiven." The Nightshade murmurs easily, expression softening as she takes in his wain smile, knowing how thinly stretched he is. He leans into her touch, though. He doesn't fight her as she draws him into her arms, cradling him against her chest much like she does her own son, lips brushing lightly across his temple. There is a rightness to the motion that she can't name, but that's how it's always been with them. How it always would be.
It had felt like that. Much like Harper, Maeve wanted nothing more than to have a family. A baby all of her own. True flesh and blood that wanted her. When it had become clear that she was struggling to do something that she should have inherently known? Well, the Nightshade had nearly broke. Just like he was breaking now. It had hurt, in a way, being told that she needed someone else. That she couldn't do it alone, but Maeve wouldn't change how things went. Not at all.
She laughs, shaking her head slightly, "Not one bit. You should know better by now." Maeve replies in jest, lips curling as he presses their foreheads together, a calloused hand covering her own lightly. The kiss to her brow has her lashes fluttering, a sigh slipping past her lips as a part of her melts like sugar across the tongue, thumb brushing over his cheek. "I always love when you call me that..."
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
06-03-2022, 04:24 PM (This post was last modified: 06-03-2022, 04:25 PM by Harper.)
HARPER
For all things have fallen apart, leaving him with only the ground beneath his feet and the baby in his arms, there are some things that resolutely remain the same. Maeve is one of them. One of the last few lifelines he can reach for, and that reaches back for him. So many of those he loved in Caido have been lost, leaving him unmoored. He is a creature of physicality and emotional closeness after all. Without it, he can feel himself shriveling, retreating back into the person he has been running from at full speed for countless years.
But here there is hope, and Harper is grateful that Safrin brought them together to be there for one another. Smiling against her skin, Harper pulls back to lay their foreheads together again, the bridges of their noses aligned. “I know,” he huffs a laugh softly, breath washing warm across her cheeks. “I’m glad Safrin brought me to you,” he confesses softly, sure it’s their shared Goddess more than any other vague notions of fate. “I know we keep losing people, keep getting left behind. But you’ll always have me Maeve. And I’ll always have you.” And it’s a vow said with unwavering certainty. No room for doubt or fear. Only a perfect, solid love.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Maeve might have been inclined to agree. If it wasn't for the fact that Harper had been in her life before she found her faith in Safrin. Just as much as Maeve had been a constant in his life, he'd been a constant in hers. She still remembers the first time they met after she started working at the Halenani. "If there's anyone you can trust around here, Maeve, it's Harper." It was her first night on the floor as a working girl and she'd been nervous. Scared even. Unsure if the treatment she received here would be just as bad as the last brothel she was employed at, but Harper had remained close for the evening. Nothing had happened to her and no one dared to lay a hand on her that wasn't wanted.
Of course there were all the little moments in between. The late nights, long talks, tears, heartaches, and triumphs. It's true that Safrin had brought them together once she appointed her queen, but Harper had always been there. Always.
She's not even sure when she set down the tea. When her hands suddenly became empty enough to slide down his arm to take the tea from his own hands, placing it on the nearby table without having to draw back from him. His breath washes over her, the sweetness of the tea lingering, warming her cheeks to an enticing shade of pink. It's a subtle shift, nose brushing alongside his, fingers curling at the nape of his neck as they push into the slightly too long locks, lashes fluttering closed at his words. "Always. Nothing will ever change that, Harper." Comes her murmured reply, promise woven into each word as she shares each of his breaths.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
It's true, she has always had him at her back. Even when their roles were reversed she had his loyalty, his care and attention. Another sheep in the flock to which he tended, trusted to the deepest extent by all the working men and women in the Halenani. For all Torchline changes, they two remain. Hands clasped and overseeing the ripples that spread outward from their feet in the waters that have held them safe all these years. Home. And even when all others leave, they have each other to lean upon. Just as they do now.
Harper barely stirs as the tea is taken from his hands, and his own summarily fall to land one against the curve of her waist and the other the top of her thigh. Gentle pressure, exuding warmth from his scarred palms down through her clothes to be felt in a solid, but respectfully motionless manner. Her hand at his nape has him sighing softly, breath washing tea-sweetened and warm against her lips as the tension in his shoulders dissipates into nothing, leaving him sore but finally, blissfully, at rest in her embrace.
"Love you, Mae-bell," he murmurs, eyes heavy but mind awake despite the physical exhaustion deeply rooted in his body. Harper's fingers squeeze gently at her waist and thigh. "Can I stay with you tonight?" It's spoken tentatively, aware of outside connotations even if he is deeply certain that Maeve herself would understand the true reasoning. "It's been so long, I...I don't want to be alone."
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Feelings fade and people change, but even despite those changes, they never faltered. At the end of every day, every week, every season, and every year; they remained the same. It didn’t matter the distance. It didn’t matter what they were doing or who they were seeing. There are some bonds that can’t be broken. Forever forming, shifting, and reshaping to fit what they needed. Right now they needed this. Needed each other like a person needs air.
Tension melts out of his shoulders and a satisfied hum slips past wine stained lips, fingers slipping through the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him in place even as his hands fall to her waist and thigh. They curl there, but don’t move other than that. He doesn’t draw her closer. He doesn’t do anything except breathe. His son continues to sleep soundly in the bassinet, getting the first proper rest he’s likely had in days too and if he’s anything like Edmund, Maeve knows he’ll sleep through the night tonight.
”Je t'aime aussi, Harper.” The Nightshade breathes, the words so familiar to him that he won’t need her to translate to know that it’s the proper response to his own. Fingers flex, warm and strong through her clothing, heat radiating from his touch and sinking into her bones. Barely nodding at his question, Maeve finds it in herself to respond, only just realizing how desperately she needs this too after he’s aired his request. ”Please. I don’t want to be alone either.” He wasn’t the only one left alone again. Whose lover disappeared without a trace or word. Who likely wasn’t coming back.
Her lips brush his as she speaks, barely a hairs breath between them, each passing moment drawing them closer together. ”Stay with me, Harper. Don’t leave. I- I need you.”
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
Relationships like these are the ones Harper never fails to appreciate the most. The candid, vulnerable, shiftable pieces that ensure that no matter where in life they find themselves, their relationship can change to fill the new spaces created. Her softly whispered words may be in a foreign tongue, but they are far from foreign to his ears. And he doesn't know exactly why it is that her own desperation rises in quiet, yearning answer to his own. Doesn't know all that occurred - in detail, at least - with Locke and Aurelia. They are each other's confidants, but some things - especially matters of the heart - are harder to share aloud.
The soft brush of her lips against his is relatively platonic, all things considered, but the physical expression of closeness has him pressing just a hair closer. Into something that cannot be called anything but a kiss, but which is too sweet and chaste to be much else. "I'm here. I promise. We have each other." Tonight, tomorrow, however long they both need each other. Opening his eyes is a Herculean task, but he manages a wan smile. "Bedtime?"
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
