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!
May you be always heartbreaking Taking a little more than you give
The last few hours have felt like a whirlwind. A soldier had come to the Court of Stars, out of breath and urgent, demanding Harper follow her. He'd done so without question, and ended up at the largest clinic Haulani could offer. The worst had played out in his head in those seconds before he'd made it through the door -
Was it Jude? Sohalia? Were they laying in a bed past that threshold, wounded or worse?
Even now he doesn't remember getting to the bed, just knows he'd knocked past various people to achieve it.
His son had been there, yes - but at the side of the bed, eyes bloodshot and face pale as they'd lifted to meet his own. Harper had stepped forward with the intent to take him into his arms until the moment he'd looked upon the woman in the bed.
Maeve.
Everything after that is lost. Talking to the healer, the hour-long intensive magical session they'd had to undertake to heal Maeve, sending Jude home to wait for Sohalia, entrusting his son to her care - it is a rough blur in his head. Now he waits at Maeve's bedside for her to awaken. The healer had assured him her rest was a natural one, and sorely needed, but it is the hardest thing he has ever had to wait through. Both hands hold one of hers within, head bowed over it as he tries to rest without slipping into sleep after so long watching over her.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
I’ll see you all on the other side After I am a different man with different eyes
All she remembers is Jude's soft voice, telling her that she can rest, to close her eyes and sleep while they were still on the skyboat. And she does just that. Her eyes drift shut, breathing shallow as she slips under, unable to keep herself in the waking world a moment longer.
There are snippets that she catches. Her name, hands, the trees swaying above her and the scent of the ocean. Waves crashing on the shoreline and the cawing of Hels despite the late hour. She's not carried by Jude to the clinic. The clinic. The clinic that Harper oversees often and doesn't stray far from.
Then her mind circles that fact. That person.
Harper, Harper, Harper.
It's the only word she manages. The only thing she can say as she goes in and out of consciousness.
She's not sure how long she sleeps, but when she finally comes to she feels as if she's been bowled over by a dragon. Her eyes are heavy, body still, but not in the same way that it had been in in the weeks prior. There is a weight around her hand, a steady pressure that tugs her attention and she lets out a breath as the slightly disheveled mop of hair that could only be Harper's bowed over her hand. Maeve lets out a sudden exhale as if her chest is suddenly compressed, tears springing to her jade eyes, "Harper.." She whispers, voice hoarse from disuse over the last few days, cutting through the silence of the room.
May you be always heartbreaking Taking a little more than you give
The murmur of his name has gotten his hopes up far too many times while Maeve has been in and out of consciousness. He knows she is healed and merely needs physical rest, but the waiting feels like torture. Every time he chides himself for his selfishness but it doesn't stop the vain desire for her to wake up already. He has been without her nearly a year, and now that she is here in body but not in spirit the minutes feel like hours.
Of course he is half-asleep when the utterance of his name comes again, because no man can stay awake indefinitely. Yet, just like with every other time, Harper stirs himself forcefully at the sound of his name. This time, her eyes are actually open when he checks on her, and the Stalwart jolts forward out of his chair immediately to crouch beside her bed, both hands enveloping hers tightening as a painful sort of smile overtakes his face.
"Hey Mae-bell," he whispers, voice too strained with emotion for anything louder. Lifting her hand he presses a kiss to her fingers because he doesn't want to crowd her too much so soon. "How are you feeling? I have some water here." It's equally torturous to remove just one hand from her, but he takes the paper cup and sets it to her lips to help her drink it. When she has finished and he has set the cup aside he gently touches her cheek with his free hand, eyes soft, unsure of what else to say.
I’ll see you all on the other side After I am a different man with different eyes
The term of endearment he saves for her falls from his lips and Maeve can't help it as tears slip down her cheeks simply seeing him before her again. It's been so long. His face is line with the strain and strife of all he's been through. Of what she's put him through and her heart constricts in her chest. Another fissure running through it as she matches his smile, dried lips slightly cracking with the movement, "Hey.." She whispers back, sniffling as his lips brush over her knuckles in a tender gesture, making her stomach twist.
"I- I'm okay. Tired... A bite sore." Given that she could actually talk without her jaw locking up, Maeve knew that she had already been tended to thoroughly by the healers here in Torchline. Her free hand reaches down to her torso, finding it wrapped in clean bandages, the smell of pus and blood no longer filling her nose. He pulls her attention away from her injuries to the water pressing against her lips instead and she takes a few slow sips.
He falls quiet, simply looking at her, fingers tracing over her still gaunt cheek. The Nightshade leans into his touch, letting out a shuddering breath, struggling to find the words, not knowing where to even start. "I'm sorry, ma lumière. I asked for you when they found me, but they didn't understand." He can feel it along the bond, her sincerity and guilt, the attuned ring still there despite the fact that it's now loose on her finger not hiding a single emotion from him.
May you be always heartbreaking Taking a little more than you give
Despite the maelstrom in his chest, he gently thumbs away her tears. She has so little strength right now that it would be a waste for her to do it herself, and it helps remind him that she’s real.
He can feel her side of the bond clear as a bell, but his remains closed off and dark. Impenetrable. There is so much he is feeling, and not all of it good. He doesn’t want that to spread and poison her when she is only just now reawakening and not nearly strong enough to contend with the crippling feelings in his veins. “I know, Jude told me. It’s okay - what matters is we found you, and you’re home.” Soft, murmured words meant to comfort and calm so that she doesn’t work herself up unnecessarily and risk exhausting herself anew. And again the words leave him, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. There is so much he wants to say, he’s sure of it, but he can’t find those sentiments and questions now. Scared to overwhelm her, scared she’ll fall back asleep within moments and leave him unanswered. Scared to say them at all, because of how badly some of them hurt.
I’ll see you all on the other side After I am a different man with different eyes
His touch is incredibly soft, barely a whisper across her skin, brushing across the tracks of tears staining her cheeks. Maeve wants to reach up and take his hand, but she can't bring herself to do it. Her arm laying limp at her side as she meets his gaze with glassy eyes.
Nothing comes from him. No familiar spark along the bond that used to be so open. There is no warmth to meet her and she tries not to let it twist like a dagger deeper in her heart, but the twinge is there all the same. She draws a shuddering breath at his words, nodding weakly, "I know, but I- I left you alone, Harper. I did the same thing as Phoebe." And she hates herself for even mentioning her. Except in this one way, Maeve is no better than her. No better than her at all.
Silence falls over them and she can see the questions swimming in his eyes, the way his lips press into a thin line, refusing to release them. Maeve swallows thickly, "Harper... Please talk to me..."
May you be always heartbreaking Taking a little more than you give
What is he meant to say to that?
Yes, she had left him. Disappeared like a question mark at the end of a trail of letters after having given up her crown - a whirlwind of events that had already made him deeply concerned for her state of mind. He cannot blame her for her sickness, but part of him resents her for having left without him in the first place. Were they not supposed to be partners? Fiancees, yes, but something stronger than a ring on a finger or a position on a council. She did leave. To find Edmund first, and then again when he came home only to disappear a second time - but why did she feel the need to do it alone when Harper had always seen Edmund as one of his own?
He doesn't want to ask because he knows she'll tell him otherwise; but what was to be believed, her words or her actions?
"I don't know what to say," he settles on instead, voice low and tortured. "I don't know how to navigate this Maeve. How to advocate for myself without seeming like a monster, how to forgive you for something you couldn't control when I don't want to." Despite the bite of his words, his hands never so much as clench as they retreat from her cheek and hand to sit flat on his thighs. Controlled. Perhaps too controlled. "You hated Phoebe for what she did even with her explanation. You told me it was okay not to go back to her, that it was fair for me to have moved on." Lifting his eyes slowly, unreadable, Harper looks into her pale face and doesn't know how to feel anything at all without losing control. "How is this different?" Because he hadn't moved on? With nobody to have taken Maeve's spot, did that make it different? Make it more expected of him to take her back with open arms?
He was just so tired of forgiving people for abandoning him.
I’ll see you all on the other side After I am a different man with different eyes
