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!
Whilst he might currently be a picture of hobo-chic, completely harmless snuggled in his blanket and with his curls drying around his shoulders, as Mateo sinks down at his place at the table, there's something decidedly off in his expression that makes him look like his father, and not the starlight express one. "Mm, I see," he murmurs, breaking up some of his bread to dunk it into his soup.
"Do you want to get used to it, though?" he asks. "Because that is the only thing that matters, you know. We all have things that we wish we could change about ourselves, and doing things that make us uncomfortable is necessary sometimes for growth. But if you are happy as you are..." Well. Then Flora is in trouble, in Mateo's (little black) book.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Trying to read his friend's tone, something he's notoriously bad at even when it comes to Mateo, Everest frowns at the silence that stretches between the two of them before mirroring Mateo's actions and dunking his bread into his soup.
"I don't know how to answer that." Everest admits after a long moment of staring blankly down into his soup. "People like democracy because we think that whatever appeals to the most amount of people is what's best." He begins, and though this seems totally off-topic, worry not. A point is coming. "And what most people are like, is not at all what I'm like, so in that regard it seems like there is grounds to say that what I am like is wrong and what they are like is right and so that's what I should strive toward." Picking up his spoon, he rescues the piece of bread that he'd put in lest it become any more soggy.
"Another way to put it is that life might be easier for me if I were like other people. I wouldn't have failed my exam, and I wouldn't develop hives when people stand too close to me in a queue."
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
Congratulations are in order, at least - Everest's talk of democracy absolutely cracks through Mateo's serious expression, the botanist letting his shoulders slump as if he's going to melt into his seat. Settling in good-naturedly for the explanation, he busies himself with his lunch while he gives Ever the floor. And whilst he'd usually concede that his friend makes a good point, democracy is a societal plague - Ever's quirks don't hurt anyone.
"Do not judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree," he says absently. "I read that in a book once. It means that you should not base a person's worth on somebody else's standards. And even if your life was easier, would it be happier?" he wonders. If Ever could mask well enough to swan through social situations without issue, would he still be dying inside regardless?
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Blinking hard at first, you'd think steam would start pouring from the aviator's ears given how hard he appeared to be trying to understand his friend's advice. But, as Ever had done with democracy, so too did the botanist find a way of making fish and trees make sense.
Sort of.
"Well but fish on the whole aren't meant to climb trees, whereas people...well, people seem meant to be a certain way." A certain way that I'm not, going unsaid lest he labour that point too much. Rub a finger between one of his eyes before looking down at his fingers that he'd meticulously made sure were free of dirt from their previous adventures, Ever tilts his head to the side before looking up at Mateo and possibly asking him the most unfair question one person can ask of another.
"How do you know when you're happy? Or..how do you know when you're happy enough to let things go, or not happy enough so that you have to put up boundaries?"
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"People are meant to be a lot of ways," Mateo argues, and this time it's an easy one to make. Finishing a spoonful of soup, he waves his (clean) spoon towards his friend. "Otherwise we would all be aviators, or we would all be botanists. We would all worship the same god, or all be good at swimming, and nobody would be afraid of heights or dislike being touched."
Feeling somewhat victorious, Mateo shifts to sit comfortably cross-legged on his chair to finish his lunch, only for Ever to philosophically slap the bread out of his mouth. Clearing his throat for a second and reaching out for a sip of tea (to buy himself some time), the most he can offer at first is an airy shrug. "To be honest," he says slowly, "I find it easier to tell when I am not happy. That is when I know things need to change. Like today when I was out at the Grotto."
It's different when it's fleeting discomfort; a bad day or an uncomfortable encounter that one can shrug off. The kind of unhappiness that sits on your chest when you first wake up - that's the stuff change is made of.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Thoughtfully Everest peers across the table, briefly distracted by the glint of light on Mateo's spoon, before his gaze refocuses on the botanist. 'Those are very good points.' He agrees readily, with a nod, before his mind gets the better of him and he finds his nose crinkling with counterarguments. "But what about when we tell people that they shouldn't be mean? Or shouldn't murder, or shouldn't lie? Is the way I am not like that?" It wasn't that he was just different; wasn't he a way he shouldn't be.
Not wanting to let his food get cold, Everest takes the opportunity to eat several mouthfuls of soup while Mateo considers. "So when you are happy, that means you aren't happy, and vice-versa?" It might sound like a nonsense question, and realizing this, the aviator gives his head a frustrated little shake. "I mean, is it one or the other? You're always happy, or you're not? Because then I think I am usually unhappy." Moments of happiness for the aviator were like shooting stars; rare, beautiful, and brilliantly bright occurrences that you might hope to see but would never expect. Moments like making snow parents with Mateo. Otherwise, the aviator's life was a series of tasks to complete and rules to follow. Mostly it was confusing and hard, often it was uncomfortable, and rarely it was okay.
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"I do not think we can equate the way you are to taking another person's life," Mateo says with a slight tilt of his head. "For a start, the way you are primarily only affects you." It's hardly the same as being mean or murder, the botanist thinks. As for the always/never nature of happiness, he begins by softly shaking his head. "No, I think it is more like a sliding scale. Am I more happy than unhappy, day to day," he says, starting to quite enjoy this back and forth.
That is, of course, until Ever's confession that his sliding scale more often than not falls towards unhappiness. Putting down his spoon and resisting the urge to reach out and take his friend's hand, Mateo frowns softly to the aviator. "I am very sorry to hear that," he murmurs. "...What would make you happy? Let us pretend that societal norms did not exist for a second. What would happy look like, for you?"
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Placing his spoon into his soup and folding his hands into his lap, Ever stares rather intensely at Mateo though in truth the aviator doesn't really see his friend. Instead, he sees arguments taking shape, with various lemmas and the like struck out when they failed to be sound - as with Mateo's observation that the way Ever was affected only himself. By and large that was true, and perhaps was an important detail in all of this that he'd failed to consider.
"A sliding scale makes more sense, though..." Frowning and reaching for his spoon, Ever sighs. "It's harder to parse. A bit like when a pile becomes a mountain. Have you heard that one?" Glancing over his bowl, Ever waits a moment before taking another bite.
"You don't need to be sorry." The aviator replies immediately, and now it's his turn to consider reaching out and taking Mateo's hand, suddenly feeling as though he must have upset his friend. Instead, he considers the question asked of him. Leaning back in his chair, Ever introspects the way he's heard that others could do; looking inside of himself, he tried very hard to try and find The Answer, before deciding that he'd settle for Any Answer.
"Well, my first inclination is to say that it would be you and I on La Verbena. We would have plenty of supplies and we would be flying somewhere that the weather was predictable and good. We would have lots of books and clean clothes." Paradise, surely. "Only..I'm not sure if that would make me happy because I've never experienced all those things together."
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"I have not," Mateo says of the pile and the mountain conundrum, though granted he's much more interested in what Ever has to say about himself. And honestly, when the aviator does speak it's a surprise to hear that something that would make him genuinely happy would involve the two of them, Mateo finding himself smiling without realising it. "That sounds like it would make you feel good," he says, even if the other man isn't sure about it.
"Maybe if the weather is steady in Leafchange, we can take the ship out to a place like that, and try it out." Maybe Ever needed to just live in a boat rather than pilot all different kinds of them, he thinks. But honestly, he's not all that sure, and it's with a sudden flood of exhaustion that he finishes his tea and soup. "Do you think we could nap now? It has been a long few days."
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
'Oh, just that if you add a pebble to a pile, it's still a pile. However, after millions and millions, it's a mountain. Only along the way it's hard to say when the pile becomes a mountain, and I think it's probably like that with happiness. At the extremes it might be clear, but in the middle?' Tilting his head skeptically to the side, he gives it a little shake.
"Is feeling good the same as feeling happy?" He wonders, and gods if this world had a Socrates, he'd be proud of this socratic line of questioning. "Maybe we could bring Le Verbena to the Refuge. Are magical items allowed inside?" Part of Everest's mind thought not, but it was the only place in all of Caido where all least there was environmental consistency.
As for napping? The word makes him yawn, which is really the only clear and decisive evidence to prove that Everest is not actually a robot cleverly disguised as a human. "We?" Raising his eyebrows to confirm that Mateo really does mean we this time, unlike before with the shower, Everest nods. Reaching to clear the table, once the dishes are soaking in water in the sink, Ever shifts into a much more nap-compatible body before trotting along into the bedroom. As a dog he really doesn't mind being touched at all, and so it's pressed right up against Mateo that Everest falls deeply and almost immediately asleep.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
"Oh, I see... In that case yes, I do think they are quite similar." Mateo smiles, glad to have been able to draw parallels with Ever on the matter, if for no other reason than because it means his friend has definitely understood where he was trying to come from. And where the aviator philosophises, Mateo sciences, the botanist shrugging and rising to his feet. "I believe the same hormones are produced. So yes, in the most basic way?" He smiles.
Ever beats him to it when it comes to the dishes and clearing the table, and so Mateo merely offers a nod - yes, we - and is already on his way to his bedroom when the large canine trots past. Smiling somewhat sadly to himself (are you happy like this, Ever?), he clambers into bed and sinks down into the blankets with a sigh of exhausted contentment. "Goodnight," he mumbles into the aviator's thick ruff of fur, his fingers scritching gently behind a soft ear as he drifts into sleep.
~FIN
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
