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!
He was not a man predisposed to nerves. Usually he was able to brush them off with a laugh and a shrug, move his mind easily to other matters with hardly a spot of effort. But sometimes, when it was something he truly cared about, he slipped into anxieties, wringing his hands over and over and pacing about the room.
Tilting paintings on the wall this way and that, adjusting music stands...there were only so many things he could do to neaten up the Artist's Guildhall. He was waiting for Rexanna to appear. He had asked her, after the establishing of his guild, to come the next evening for another posing session for a painting.
She did not know that while yes, they would be doing the painting, he really had asked her over for another matter. There had been a question on his mind for a little while, something he had been wanting to discuss with her. It was dangerous, something he rarely would ask. It set his teeth on edge, but he had to do it to get the damn phrase out of his mind.
With the door propped open, moonlight welcome in his house now that he was obligated to keep out the day's sun, he continued to potter about and wait for her arrival.
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
She knew what to expect when Bastien had asked her to come to the artists guildhall, and she came with appreciation and excitement to be a part of something. What she didn’t know was the anxious turmoil that ate at Bastien before she arrived. Rexanna, too, was full of anxiety but for a different reason. So much had happened, between the building of Bastien’s new adventure and the fight over the Spire Demon. Of Rory picking her out of the crowd and essentially spitting at her with anger when she had done nothing to warrant it. But Rexanna was great with masks, and she wore one after that. To hide the anger and frustration and hurt that these turn of events had caused.
But it was easier, with her friends that she surrounded herself with. With the Outlanders that had continued to do their thing despite the almost angry riot-like Naturals that continued to spew their frustrations. So when Bastien has asked, she had agreed, putting all those annoyances on the back of her mind to analyze later and grow angry over again and again. She wore that beautiful smile and breezed through the streets to the Artists Guildhalls door, not bothering to knock before she entered (it wouldn’t have done any good, considering the door had been left open anyway). She had come with a few more things she had found, part of the dress she had worn at the Masquerade and it’s beautiful gold intricate designs — something she thought Bastien would appreciate. She also brought a bottle of wine she had gotten from the Rathskeller, uncertain if Bastien would drink it or not but bringing it all the same.
As she entered, she found him prepping the items he needed for the painting and she smiled to him, that same bright smile. “I wasn’t sure what to bring, but I brought a few things just in case you needed some inspiration.” She said as she greeted him, setting her things down and moving to him to find a better place for the wine. “Is it just us today?” She asked, glancing around the room to find it was only set up for them. It wasn’t a weird thing to her. It reminded her of the first time they had officially met, and she found it a bit charming as her eyes landed back on Bastien.
Finally, thank God (or The Voice, he supposed), Rexanna arrived. He spun to greet her as soon as he heard the footsteps, walking close and beaming. "Ah, the dress from the masquerade! You looked so wonderful, cara. And wine! Such a treat." He knew he wouldn't be able to taste it, not really, but it was still a required part of the ~artistic experience~, as far as he was concerned.
"Yes, just us." Bastien gestured for her to come inside then shut the door, thinking it might be cold for Rexanna (he had no idea, really. It was odd to not even feel the slightest chill of the wind, the heat of fires).
It would have been easy to simple guide her to before his canvas and begin to paint, but Bastien had decided to say what he had to and he needed to do it before he lost his bravery. "Come, sit. Before we begin, I must speak with you." He lead them to a small cushioned couch, something rather obnoxiously luxurious in this place, clearly commissioned from some confused furniture maker.
Taking a moment to draw himself up as if taking a breath he couldn't pull into his lungs, he spoke with his hands held in his lap and his eyes looking her over with a vulnerability he did not often allow himself. "I must ask you two things, Rexanna. The first is the simplest: I was wondering how you would feel about being my model more regularly? Say, once a week? And...if I get anything for the paintings, you may have half the proceedings? Food, or clothes, or...whatever I am traded for them."
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
He spun to see her, walking over to her with that beaming and charming smile on his face that she found more and more fondness for the more she saw him – only his smile had changed slightly from the one before he was Ascended. His canines were sharper, and it gave him some kind of roguish charm that she appreciated. But he had noticed the dress from the masquerade and she nodded with a beaming grin of her own. “I aim to please.” She hummed to him with a wink and a quiet laugh.
Bastien began to gesture to her, as well as mentioning it was just them, and she nodded while she followed him inside for him to close the door. It was warm enough for her, not too hot to sweat and not too cold to freeze, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. But before she could move to the stage to begin, he mentioned he needed to speak to her, and her curiosity was immediately piqued. “Oh, of course.” She said a bit softly and a bit bewildered at the question. She didn’t think that he had anything to be afraid of talking to her about – at least hoped he wasn’t afraid. Rexanna followed him anyway, moving to the cushioned couch and sitting with a leg crossed over the other, a look of concern crossing her face.
As he gathered himself (she knew he had a flare for the dramatics, but this seemed… off), she grew worried even further. His dark eyes holding some kind of vulnerability made her heart begin to pound louder. And for a moment, she was concerned – afraid that perhaps he was about to tell her that she wasn’t welcome back. So she, too, inhaled deeply before his voice began to leave his lips. Her sapphire gaze focused on him as he began, noting the two things he needed to ask her, and she nodded encouragingly even though her heart thundered beneath her chest.
When the first question left his lips, she nodded and felt a bit relieved. Her concern broke into a smile and she nodded, leaning forward slightly toward him. “Of course! I’d love to. But you don’t have to do that unless you want to. I've been doing alright so far!” She said a bit quieter. She didn’t expect to receive anything from her time with the Artist’s Guildhall, and she had made it fine this far by bargaining and trading. It was different if he wanted to, but she wanted to ensure he knew he didn’t have to do anything for her. She was proud of that fact, of her independence and strength.
But the concern of the second question he held still rang in the back of her mind, her anxiety a bit higher than normal.
Rexanna looked nervous as he spoke (idiota, he chastised himself internally. You never told someone to be anxious before you said your piece) but thankfully smiled as she actually heard the suggestion. He had expected her to accept this one, really; he knew she had enjoyed their first time working together and suspected they were in some ways kindred spirits, that she liked being admired as much as he did. "Ah! Then it is decided. And of course I will give you proper payment. I would be a poor artist and leader if I did not."
There was a temptation to end the conversation here on the high note, but he had trapped himself by saying there were two questions at the beginning. This had been intentional, so he couldn't run away from it, but now he found himself rather annoyed at the him who had introduced this a few minutes ago.
"As for the second matter, Signora..." His eyes slid down to the healing bruises on her neck, then back up to her eyes (what eyes they were!). "Perhaps I am alone in this, but I feel that we have a connection. And I have not often been one who wishes to put names on things, or insist on..ah...commitments. But here is a lonely place, I find myself wanting different things..." He was rambling.
Bastien shook his head, tried to bring himself back to his point. "What I am trying to ask, cara, is if you would...like to be my courted partner. I have heard some here refer to it as...girlfriend? Though you are to me a woman and a fine one at that, not a girl, but...ah. Perhaps it communicates what I mean." With his question asked he anxiously rubbed his fingers over the soft lining of the couch, waited for an answer.
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
She nodded to him as he spoke, the smile resting on her face in an easy way despite more anxiety that raced within her at what his second question might be. He began to speak of the second matter, and her eyes focused on him intently as she listened to each and every word — that anxious pit forming within her. But she said nothing until he was finished, speaking words of feelings and never being one to do it like this before, and a part of her sunk with the idea. Her only other relationship had ended with terrible things; but she found it hard to see any of those resemblances with Bastien. And perhaps… perhaps it would be nice to have someone to share it with. He then asked her to be his courted partner, a girlfriend by a name more comfortable for him, and a smile broke across her face but she wasn’t sure what had caused it.
“I….” She pauses, breathing deep and lacing her fingers together in her lap as she thought about what to say. She did want this, but her past had made her wary of growing close like that to anyone again. Her sapphire gaze lifted to look at Bastien and smile again. “Yes, I would like that very much! But there are some things you should know.” She said after a moment, trying to gather what she had told him before and what would be new and be able to explain what she had concerns about. Her relationship hadn’t gone well, and she was nervous — but she found it slightly comforting in the fact that it seemed new for Bastien too.
“I told you that I was married in my other world, to a Prince from the neighboring country. But…” She paused, her eyes having an almost far away look. “When they found out I wasn’t the Kings full blooded heir, I was targeted as a traitor. The scars on my hips I know you’ve seen were from the dungeons, but I was branded too with the letter C. Frey took the mark away before I met you.” She sighed a bit heavily. “Thats the only experience I have when it comes to relationships aside from casual get togethers, and I just wanted you to know it will be… new for me and perhaps a bit frightening if it goes fast.” She laughed a bit awkwardly, but at least a smile was on her lips. “But I would love to give it a try, with you.”
Rexanna seemed a little shocked, hesitant; Bastien supposed that was to be expected. He knew as good as any he did not seem the kind to ask such a question and he was aware of Rexanna's history (or at least, some of it). He sat and waited, outwardly patient but inwardly staring at the corner of the room and urging the moment forward, praying for it to be over soon if it was to be a rejection.
But then she said yes.
His heart swelling with a sudden joy Bastien grinned at her, reached to cover her hands with one of his own. As she mentioned there was something he needed to know his smile dimmed a little but he could not take it entirely off of his face, too happy to keep his expression neutral.
Once again he listened to another fragment of Rexanna's story. It had been a tale delivered in pieces, each more distressing than the last; every time he learned more it made him more determined to do right by her. This time was not any different. As he heard about the brand, his smile completely faded and he slowly shook his head, clearly appalled.
"Cara...I promise you I shall do everything in my power to make our time together a transformation of what you knew. I am...so sorry, to hear you have experienced so much. But this will not be like that." Bastien was not perfect, but he wasn't a monster like it sounded the people in Rexanna's past were.
"If...it makes you feel better though, my experience of this kind of thing is all in one night meetings and casual 'friendships'. So we are on the same page. It will be the pace we need it to be. All we need to do is enjoy each others company, hm?"
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
It wasn’t her intention to worry him in her pause, but she had noticed the chemistry. The way his eyes lingered just a bit longer on her own, the way their kisses had held something a bit deeper in each and every one. And of course, the intimacy of the bite she had showed to him, an intimacy she didn’t know was possible until then. But the smile on his face when she said yes made it worth it, made her own smile reflect on her face in a heart swelling amount of joy. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t realize that it scared her. It wasn’t like they had rushed into it, it wasn’t like when Alistair had confessed his own feelings and she had turned him down (she’d honestly only known the man a few weeks at that time and lately hadn’t seen him since). Bastien and her had some shared history.
Some shared tales of heroics, of secrets, of quiet moments hidden away in a broom closet of the Rathskeller when death dwelled outside the doors. And despite her fear of it all, it felt nice and calm and right. But she had to tell him of what her husband had done to her, and perhaps one day a bit more of a detailed, entire story of what happened to her. Perhaps she might even be able to tell Bastien of the child she had before that never took its first breath. She hadn’t told anyone that yet, finding it a bit too dark, too deep, to ashamed of it to bring it up. But now was not the time and she wasn’t sure if there would ever be a good time. And she let the thought fade from her mind as she finished her tale of her story, of chains and dark dungeons and a hot iron brand scalding and scarring her collarbone. Of the darkness and isolation, of years on the run and seeing her city, her castle, her birthright crumble.
But here was to new beginnings.
Bastien had taken her hand and held it lovingly, and she squeezed his hand gently in response to his calming words, the accented voice, and his soft smile. He was right, it wouldn’t be like before. She wasn’t a naive child like she was before. She had the power over her person and not the deafening words of a country behind her trying to make it work, trying to survive. Her eyes flickered from their hands to his eyes as he continued to speak, talking of his own experience and how it had been similar to her own after she had ran, and she nodded with a soft smile playing on her lips. But then she stood, and moved to where he sat, bending over to plant a kiss on his temple while her hand still remained in his. “Let’s give this a go, then. Figure it out together?” She said with that same smile tugging on her lips. And for once, despite the world around them pointing fingers at each other, she felt happy for herself. And what a rare feeling it was.
Bastien did not have so much as Rexanna to muse on in the moments after their beginning. He had had in a lot of ways, a simpler life. Perhaps not an easier one, but one where the struggles had been the things you would expect; things based on his geography and the colour of his skin, who he had chosen to sleep with, the things he had chosen to paint.
But he did not mind the quiet, the chance to study her face and commit it to memory for the countless things he would draw of her. He had been attracted to people before, obviously, had been rather fond of them, but with Rexanna there was something new in his heart. Something that desperate didn't want her to leave, wanted to know every thought and feeling she had, wanted to take away the pain in her past and replace it with nothing but joy.
She leaned forward to kiss his temple and he smiled. "I will enjoy no puzzle more." Bastien leaned up then, moved up the couch to kiss her properly, a soft hand on her jaw. It was slow, careful, the kiss of somebody who was trying to impart a feeling rather than lust.
Still, he had asked her here to model, he had meant it. Pulling away he glanced to the golden dress. "Would you like to pose, my dear? I would love to have a painting to commemorate the evening. You would look lovely in the dress."
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
If she was being honest, Bastien was the last person she ever expected to confess some kind of change in character. But he was evolving, changing and shifting just as she was, and it was something she found she was more and more attached to as the days went on. As they grew and changed, crossing paths like stars, meeting sporadically at first only to collide yet again and again. She imagined it was bound to happen, at least if the thundering of her heart was any kind of indication. As she kissed his temple, she thought about that, about their unique shared interests that had perhaps blossomed into something different than either of them had expected.
And as she listened to the words he spoke, calling it a puzzle, she smiled slightly into his lips as they met. But there was something else in that kiss, that perhaps she had tried to ignore before but could no longer. And despite the fact he wasn’t that warm person from before, she found that the Ascended status suited him. Perhaps it had indeed humbled him in some aspects. And she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Voice to be able to share such a gentle thing, a beautiful rose blossoming despite being hidden by shade and doubts, with him.
She could’ve melted into that kiss, could have forgotten about the painting for the time being and simply lost herself for a few moments, but he pulled away. Her cheeks blushing ever so slightly as she surveyed him again, watching as his eyes darted to the gilded dress. “I told you gold was my favorite color.” She offered with a roguish grin. “I would love nothing more.” She finally answered his question, slipping away to the painting room and grabbing the rest of the dress she had brought – deciding delicately that they were dating now and in all honesty Bastien had seen every bit of her, that she wasn’t self-conscious of changing out of some of the warmer clothes she had brought to slip into the gilded fabric.
As she did so, her back to him as she removed the blouse and with it, the pants she had worn. She reached for the pieces of the dress, at first sliding the skirt over her hips and hiding a few of the aforementioned scars, then with a roguish grin sent over her shoulder to Bastien she reached for the top and slipped it on, gesturing to him to help her lace it. She could have done it herself, and had before, but why not have an extra set of hands? “Do you think you could lace it up for me?” She questioned to him, hair pulled over the side of her shoulder as she looked over the bruised portion of her neck toward him with a grin.
Rexanna easily returned the kiss. Bastien did not mind that it did not last so long, knowing there would be many chances to do it again, ideally in many different ways and for extended periods of time in the future. Besides, he knew if he kissed her too long his hands may be tempted to roam, and that wasn't the kind of mood he was trying to create today.
Though...it became hard to keep those thoughts from his mind as she stood and changed, Bastien not hiding the way his eyes dragged down her body. He had seen it before, had known her intimately, but there was always a fresh pleasure when he could see it again. It was hard to be upset about losing the vision when it was replaced with the gold dress, though, the colour perfectly complimenting her.
"Of course." He stood, came to stand behind her. Before he laced up the dress he gave in just a little to the desires in his heart and ran a finger down from her neck, over her shoulders, trailing down her back...then raised his hands and laced up the dress. Not too tight; she would need to be comfortable to stay in position and besides, would it be such a loss if it slipped a little?
Once it was done he stepped away, went to his canvas. "It would be best for you sit, I think, cara. However you are comfortable."
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
“Of course.” He offered to her, coming up to stand behind her. But before his fingers reached for the laces, his fingers gently traced her neck and her shoulders, and she was certain he could see the goosebumps that rose along the pale surface of her skin. She almost thought she held her breath, eyes closed as she simply enjoyed the soft touch, a loving touch – one without other motives than to simply be. And she found a small smile grow on her face because of it.
He laced her up quickly and still a bit loosely, but she didn’t mind it. She nodded to him as he stepped away and moved to his canvas. Then she turned to look at him as he spoke, a gentle smile on her face as she glanced to the spot before him where she would model for him, where she could be his muse of all things. She happily obliged, moving to the place he had her pose before, and she sat, moving her legs slightly to the side so she could lean a bit yet still be comfortable and maintain the pose for however long Bastien would need.
She angled herself slightly forward, in a pose that she was certain he’d be able to get all of her – her torso, the curve of her hip, and the long slenderness of her legs. She put one arm up, to rest her head on her hand, and looked to Bastien and the canvas with a small amused smile on her lips. In her mind, the pose reminded her of what she imagined a goddess would be like, suddenly disturbed, but amused because of it.
“How’s this?” She questioned, remaining in the pose and waiting to see if he had any adjustments.
Rexanna seemed to be a natural at posing, easily going to the couch and laying down, adjusting herself in such a way that she looked like a nymph reclining in some old classic, sat by the waters edge on a rock. Still, Bastien was a practised eye and there could always be improvements; he walked forward to just slightly adjust the angle of her leg, move the fit of her dress over her arm.
"There. Ah, Rexanna. You look as if you have dropped, golden and radiant, from the rainclouds underneath Heaven." With a smile and one last kiss pressed to her forehead, he went to begin his sketching. He worked in a light golden-yellow ink, blocking out the shapes of her body and the couch. Usually he tried to see a scene in the abstract, just colours and light to recreate, but it was hard when the subject was so thrilling to look at.
He only put in vague suggestions of an expression at first, but he kept it...pensive, thoughtful. Not sad, not quite, but it was hard to plaster a smile on a woman who had just told him stories of such abuse.
As was usual, his mind began to wander as he painted. "What do you think of all this...tension, I suppose, occurring lately? About the Spire, and the Outlanders, Naturals? I must admit I have been distracted from much of it."
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
She was happy to oblige to the movements that Bastien came over to adjust. Her leg, angled just so slightly different and her dress adjusted over her arm. Her eyes lingered on him as he made the adjustments, and offered him a genuine, gentle smile as he spoke. She wanted to snort at the response, but something about his compliments now seemed… more true? Before she had imagined them as any person would, compliments to make even the most mundane seem vibrant. But now, to hear him utter it in a place where they could simply be together hit home a bit harder than normal.
Her eyes shuttered slightly as he pressed the kiss to her forehead, her eyelashes fluttering slightly before she opened her lids to watch him move back to the canvas and keep the position that he had adjusted. She wasn’t very familiar with modeling, spending most of her time trying to stay out of sight, but there was a portrait done of her when she was crowned and she tapped into that stillness every time she posed for Bastien.
But as he sketched, he began to speak of the issue at hand. And for a moment, there was a small look of concern that crossed her face. But it was gone as soon as he mentioned he’d been distracted by it. Inhaling a bit deeply, she regained her pose and thought about the entire ordeal. “Ah, well. I was at the gathering to watch those that descended upon the demon and…” She paused for a brief moment. “I was targeted? I think I might have been the one that started it in a way?” Her tone was uncertain, but she remembered as Rory glared at her, his eyes full of icy daggers as the words left his lips when she had done nothing wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Rory, he singled me out and spoke as though I were the one that caused it. And well, you know me, I couldn’t just let it go.” She said, glancing to him with a small twist of a lip in a smile that almost seemed a bit wolfish.
Seemed a bit darker than what Bastien had probably ever seen on her lips.
“I told him that we were all there for the same purpose, and it did no good to blame Outlanders versus Naturals. I told him over Longnight that I had abandoned their warnings and concerns and opened the door at the Rathskeller to let Jigano and Rory in. Rory, who was burned and bleeding and likely didn’t remember the ordeal.” She paused for a moment, eyes perhaps a bit distant. “He said I should have let him die. And well… Things went south after that. I went to Deimos after, to talk about it all.” She added, uncertain if Bastien even knew the brooding dark man that shared a similar history to Rexanna in different worlds, in different lives. “Deimos and I have a bit of a shared roundabout history.” She offered, wanting to shrug but remaining the pose. “I’m afraid I’m a bit stuck in the middle – no chance to avoid it even if I wanted to.”
