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!
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Ophelia has not had the pleasure of meeting their resident healer, but with arms laden with strange ingredients and hope in their heart they enter the infirmary to change that. “Is Isla in?” their dreamlike voice is akin to the aroma of tea, seeping insistently around the room to the various inhabitants. The uncertain glances and shaken heads don’t dissuade them. What is a few hours of waiting when you need neither sleep nor food?
The ghost begins to set up the items on an empty table, humming nonsensically as they group each item into a little bundle. Happy to be included, to be trusted with such a momentous task. Wherever Isla is, she can meet Ophelia at her convenience; of the two, she is the one with the far more important daily tasks.
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
Isla has been called out to an accident at one of the farms, because although she's an Ascended and so are the majority of the Hollowed Grounds' residents, there are still people of flesh and blood here and they get into all sorts of trouble given the opportunity. By the time she returns from splinting a broken leg and convincing the farmer that he really ought to admit himself to the infirmary (nope, is his firm response), about an hour has passed for Ophelia.
Mildly hassled as she walks in, but nonetheless cheerful, as Isla is directed to her guest she seems to light up from inside. "Oh! Hello," she chirps, holding out her hand to shake. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. Are these all the ingredients for the Voice?"
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
An hour is a measly thing to Ophelia now, especially with so much to explore in the infirmary. They keep a respectful distance of course, but every instrument and sickly child is investigated with the same curious, unblinking stare.
Isla’s arrival summons them back to the metal table, and they smile beatifically as they pleasantly accept the preferred hand, shaking perhaps a time too many in their eagerness. “It’s nice to finally meet you, sister,” they croon, having yet to be deterred from their familial mindset by any other Ascended. “Yes they are. We’re to mix it, but my version of that is to put it all into a bucket and give it a good stir. I assumed you’d have a better idea.” Unashamed as they are of their farming roots, they’re still aware it’s likely not the best solution.
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
"And a pleasure to meet you as well. You can call me Isla," the medic says with no small amount of enthusiasm, clasping Ophelia's hand before turning her attention to the metal table and the ingredients spread upon it. Grinning at their idea, Isla nods her approval and shrugs her shoulders. "Well," she says, "When you're mixing glow stones, sap and herbs, a bucket is a pretty good idea actually."
Even so, she excuses herself for a moment and returns with a pestle and mortar, and a large wooden bowl. "Here," she says, offering Ophelia the former. "We can use this to grind up the herbs, and then mix it with the sap and the stones in the bowl. What do you think?"
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Isla. A beautiful name, if clearly foreign, and Ophelia endeavors to remember the way it’s pronounced. “Ophelia,” they introduce in turn, taken in by the enthusiasm and geniality the woman displays. Brightening shamelessly at the approval in the older Ascended’s voice.
The ghost tracks the healer with their eyes as she departs, and takes the mortar and pestle with pale hands. Familiar shapes, if higher quality than Phi is used to. “Sounds wonderful,” they sigh happily, turning to the table to set the items down to begin filling the bowl with the herbs. As they begin grinding them down, they turn a curious side-eye towards Isla to watch her own progress. “How long have you lived in the Grounds?” Though circumstantially tied together by persecution and creation, Phi doesn’t want that to be the only basis for companionship between themself and their siblings.
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
"Ophelia," Isla repeats, quickly committing the name to memory. And as her new mixologist partner starts to grind up the Efas herb with the mortar and pestle, Isla gets to work with transferring the sap into the wooden bowl. It's steady going, given how sticky and unmoving the stuff is, and she considers trying to slowly heat it through to make it a little more pliable.
"Me? Oh, I think perhaps about... five years now? But it is complicated. I wasn't alive for all that time," she explains, furrowing her brow to try and think of a better way to phrase it. "I came back during the Festival of Lights - the one in Halo, that the Voice blessed. How about you?"
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
The motions are easy to fall into, which allows Ophelia to watch the comically slow transfer of sap from vessel to vessel, a small amused tick to the corner of their pale mouth. It’s a lucky thing that their muscles never tire even when commanded to hold bowls aloft for long periods.
The explanation is complex, but Ophelia knows enough about the Festival of Lights to smooth over any inconsistencies. “I was born here,” they breeze, eyes falling to the bowl where the herbs are slowly breaking down. “Twenty-five years now. Though I was only allowed to visit the market twice a month. Even the Grounds is still unfamiliar to me.” With the levity they employ it would almost seem like a pleasant upbringing on the surface. “Have you traveled far then? Sam took me to see the ocean in Torchline, but I haven’t gone back since.” Both content to stay put and not one to suffer the pull of adventurous desires.
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
It is slow going, and eventually Isla moves to go and get a small spoon to help matters along, listening carefully to Ophelia as they speak and the duo work together. "You weren't allowed?" she echoes, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head for a second, before shaking her head. "Sorry - you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Once the sap is suitably transferred, Isla sets the bowl down and nods for Ophelia to tip in the herbs when they are ready. "I have travelled a bit, yes," Isla admits with a smile. "Never very extensively in any one place. I did like the ocean in Torchline, though. You should go there again if you can, look around a bit more. It's still friendly to Ascended as far as I know."
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Ophelia keeps grinding until it becomes something more akin to a paste, content to work at it until told to stop. It means they can’t wave away the backpedaling, so instead they work to express forgiveness with their expression. “I don’t mind. My parents were god-fearing zealots. We were rarely allowed to leave the farm, and did all of our schooling independently. They were incredibly paranoid, and cruel. But they are dead now, and I have a new family,” they reassure, oddly cheerful and unbothered.
At the gesture, Ophelia sets down the pestle and tips the ground herbs into the mixture, ensuring as much is transferred as possible with a few swipes of their fingers in the bowl to coax out any clinging remnants. “I was curious if we could tie stones to our feet to walk on the ocean floor since we do not need to breathe, I’d like to go back to try it out.” The details of the experiment are vague, nebulous future things to contend with, but Ophelia doesn’t mind that. Planning is not something they care much about.
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry," Isla says, the apology in her expression as well as in her words. Holding the bowl to allow Ophelia to transfer the herbs into it, she waits until as much is in there as possible before (painstakingly) stirring them together. This is easier than the first part, at least, and she does glance up with a warm smile for her new acquaintance. "That's true, yes. You do," she agrees.
As for Torchline and the stones? "You know, I have often thought the same. But then we do not need to breathe, and I believe it is the breath in our lungs that causes us to bob up to the surface. Perhaps we don't need anything to tie us down." Speaking of which, though, Isla holds out the bucket one last time. "Could you put the glowstones in, please?"
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Isla is a sweet person, and Ophelia is not surprised by her sincerity, but the medic will find no matching remorse in the younger Ascended. “I am sorry for their actions, but I am the last of their line - and I will live long enough for their memory to be muddled and washed away. That is justice enough for me.” And when Ophelia dies, they will never have to reunite with their birth family, soul cradled safe in The Voice’s hands. Cruelty did not deserve remembrance or forgiveness, no matter the pretty package of faith and fealty it came in.
Ophelia’s excitement overtakes the precious dark topic like a storm, pale irises nearly aglow with glee at the prospect. “I will have to test that at the Oasis immediately,” they mutter to themself with a mad-scientist smile, fingers dancing in imitation of dancers across the metal table to grab the stones as directed. They sink into the sap with a thwump that inspires a little giggle, watching as they painstakingly slowly force their way to the bottom of the vessel. “Well, what now?”
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
Isla takes a moment to consider the weight of her new acquaintance's words, holding their gaze before offering a warm smile and a decisive nod. "Very well said," she murmurs, and turns her attention back to their task. Well, mostly - she's well able to hear the muttered words, and the inclination to experiment and test is one that Isla knows very well, and she can't help but feel a pang of affection for Ophelia in that moment.
Giving the mixture a stiff stir, Isla grumbles a bit but is well able to coat the stones, at least. "Now," she says, "I believe I need to report to Sunjata with these, and we will be placing them in different places around the Grounds. You are welcome to come with me if you like."
we're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
They preen at the compliment, easy to bond to one’s side with the weight of a collar in the shape of praise and affection. Isla has surely achieved that with ease and swiftness - they’re nearly done now, and within the hour. Truly, Ophelia hadn’t expected it to be so easy. This regional quest business is far less intimidating than they’d feared.
Nearly clicking their heels together with eagerness at the prospect of being invited along, the ghost grins toothily, fangs and all. “I’ve worked with him before, it would be nice to see him again. Lead the way!” Any infirmary work notwithstanding, the two Ascended depart the infirmary with the precious combination of everyone’s efforts held in their grasp.
- Fin!
trying vainly to forget the pain that came with heartbeats
