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!
The Dusklight was a new experience for the freshly minted Ancient. In the past she had visited bars often enough, and even spent some time behind the counter for various reasons. But brothels... they made her uneasy. The whole concept of allowing strangers to become intimately involved with her body touched on some deeply rooted fears of hers, and on a normal day she did not even go near such establishments. So why was she here? Because there was a bar, and she did not want to go to the Vlam Vloed. Too many memories. Too much lingering bitterness that soured the taste of anything she put in her mouth, with a few exceptions. Besides, this was where Danta had brought her after saving her from a life as a statue, and she felt... grateful. Enough to at least poke her nose in when she couldn't stand her own company anymore.
Finding herself a quiet corner, Maea ordered herself a mug of mulled wine and some bites to go along with it. Kicking the shoes off she pulled her feet up on the plush seat, arranged her skirt to cover the legs and leaned back, forcing herself to relax with deep breaths. Music filled the silence and muddled the murmured conversation of couples and groupings of people around her into a low drone, pleasant enough for one who had become unaccustomed to large crowds. Here she could be together and apart at the same time, one among... Gods, how long she had gone without wanting any such thing.
Yet it was different now. Being back in a body that could feel in the ways that mattered made every difference in the world, and it seemed a crime to not at least try to live a little. While it lasted.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
The brothels and bars of the world are familiar to him after over a season of visiting little else. Harper does not often venture into the Grounds anymore, the region simultaneously too different and too full of memories and ghosts. Unfortunately, King's End has become more of a hot commodity recently, and Harper prefers the increased anonymity of the Dusklight to the House of Midnight.
The dancing and the drinks are the same regardless of where you land. When you seek to forget your own face, and never aim to remember the ones you come into contact with, things start to blend together. Harper likes it better that way; a watercolor collage of experiences and sensations.
Stark white, however, tends to stand out.
Harper is used to seeing ghosts. There are more in his life than people these days, and drinking tends to bring them out more vividly - but he can't fool himself this time. When he looks twice, it's Maea, without a doubt.
Normally this is where he would close his tab and slip out unnoticed, unwilling to intrude on Maea's personal time or wrangle with his own feelings about her presence. Normally he's not tipsy. Unless you only count recent months. Still, he finds his feet taking him to her, abandoning his dance partner without a word and only vaguely recognizing their miffed response. All that matters is finding his way to her side, where he slides in next to her with too much grace for a man as many bottles deep as he is. He leaves ample room - isn't sure if he's worried about his welcome, or if she should be - but his eyes scarcely blink as he takes in the new horns and the flush of life in her skin. "Maea," he murmurs, like speaking her name will break the spell, and only taking a shuddering breath when it doesn't. Her ring still sits on his finger, and he feels like he has found something he has been missing, but he doesn't know what. "I...wow. I thought..." you were dead. Luckily, he's not drunk enough to let that one slip. Shaking his head slightly in a useless attempt to clear his head, Harper laughs quietly. "Sorry to intrude, I should say. I didn't think I'd find you here of all places." Most everyone Harper knows isn't the type for these establishments; precisely why it's the only place he visits now.
There were enough loners even in this establishment that she hadn't been bothered before. People who didn't have quite as prickly an aura, or as noli-me-tangere of a glare whenever someone came too close to her booth. So when a shadow was cast over her and someone sidled into her space, Maea was too startled to speak at first. The shock doubled when she realized that the voice that murmured her name was familiar. That she knew him, beyond a doubt.
"Harper!" Shifting around so she could look at him, wide eyes scanned the man up and down as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "No, that's... don't worry. Stay, if you want. I didn't think I would see you here, either." Last time they spoke he had been so set on making it work with Phoebe. Or had that been earlier? Flashes of conversation in Feverlands and Torchline blurred and melted into one another, details getting lost in the sheer overwhelm of suddenly having him this close, out of the blue. He came with the scent of liquor and someone else's perfume, radiating heat even across the polite space left between them.
"Are you - How have you been?" Self conscious about what to do with her hands, Maea wrapped them around the mug and raised it to her lips. Taking mini sips, peering over the edge at her almost-friend-mostly-acquaintance, surprised at the giddiness that bubbled up inside at this unexpected turn.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
The effusive, joyful surprise in her tone warms his heart, even waterlogged and misshapen as it is these days. In contrast to her own memories, he recalls clearly when last they spoke; Jude in his arms, Phoebe in the wind, her hiding away from the sun in his house and biting him for the safety of the shifts in his veins. He had asked for a friend - she had said he had one.
Those are in short supply these days. Just one, if Hadama can forgive him for abandoning Torchline and the crown alongside it. Harper wouldn’t know. He has been too cowardly to return, to even write. So Maea’s invitation at her side cracks every rib bone, crushes his lungs, until he could drown in his own viscera and go gladly for all the comfort it brings him.
Fueled enough by liquor for too much honesty, Harper laughs and shakes his head, curls longer now and lending a youthful touch to his features from lack of care and stringent routine. His hands are without a mug, so he leans back and settles them on his thighs instead. “Not great, really. Currently making a circuit of each bar and brothel in Caido, though!” Repeating the loop endlessly so he doesn’t linger in one place too long but is never without sex or alcohol for too long. Leaning forward he props one elbow on the table to cradle his chin, and aims a warm smile that is for once lacking any overtures or implications. “But you’re the star of the show here, Maea, let’s be honest. Don’t let me bring the mood down. How have you been?” The haze of alcohol in his brain makes it easier to move on from his own insinuated troubles; it’s why he hates to sober up these days.
Glancing up, something catches your eye. Not the moon, or at least, not that moon. Faintly, just off to the side where the moon hangs bright and clear, seems to be another moon. Or at least, a very large star.
Pale brows furrow in gentle concern and she cocks her head aside to take a closer look at him. The dim light lend a touch of lavender to the gray of her eyes, and where she has little sympathy for herself it comes effortlessly at Harper's confession. 'Not great' and 'touring brothels' were concepts she could understand, at least by proxy, because she had been close enough with others who used the same remedy for their hurts.
"Is it helping?" she asked him softly, not really judging his choice of self-realization. Her own had been arguably worse, a deep self-neglect that brought her close to the edge more than once.
A lopsided smile flashed by as he tried to shift the conversation to her. Pushing a dish of cheese and fruit over so he could snack if he wanted, thin shoulders rose and fell in a non-committal shrug as she obliged him.
"I've been... out of it, truth be told," she admitted. "I spent the war hiding and running from everyone I know, and the years since as a stone statue out in the woods. It's not even been a week since I was brought back... I'm a bit disoriented still. This body is... different."
Reaching up to tap at one of the smooth ox-like horns, her slight grimace was only half serious. Better by far than being Ascended, and yet... "I miss my magic, I think that's what's gnawing at me the most. Like, losing something that's part of me, and I don't know if I can ever get it back." It was the first time she had voiced the thought out loud, and she was startled by how true it was.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Frankly, nobody has asked him that yet. They either dance around the subject or lend advice, but aside from Sunjata telling him to focus on himself for once, nobody has cared to know whether it’s actually helping. Even inebriated, it makes him paused, flushed cheeks and bright eyes focused on Maea as if seeing her anew.
“It has in some ways,” he finally responds, because he knows he can’t run from his feelings forever. That eventually he will feel the need to fight and struggle against the tides of the world once more, to try and find purpose instead of the haze of forgetfulness. Given how he recalls the worst days of her self-neglect, he thinks maybe she understands perfectly how something destructive can still be a crutch.
Making a little smoochy noise of gratitude at her as she slides the plate over, he plucks a strawberry and pops it into his mouth as he offers her the bottle in his hand, entirely aware she may decline it as he listens attentively (glassy eyes aside). “I didn’t know it was so recent for you,” he admits, a little stunned. How long had she been stone then? How many years has it already been since the war? Glancing down as her hand descends from tapping her horn, he boldly reaches out to touch the back of it, his own fingers calloused and dark with years of tan. “You can feel now, can’t you?” He marvels at how wonderful that must be, only to wince slightly when she opens up so readily about her magic. Harper can’t relate directly, but he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose his shifts.
“Which ones do you miss the most?” A plan begins to form in his mind, intent on fixing this, because all he has been doing recently is ruining things. “Maybe we can find a way for you to experience it the same way, or brainstorm gifts you can ask Dygra for?” He hesitates, his knowledge of Dygra limited, but he knows how much it meant to her back then…“The Old Gods accept her. I don’t know if they would be biased against you, but perhaps you could even pray to Ludo again…?” It’s spoken in a far quieter tone, hesitant to poke and prod at wounds that may still ache
He was drunk. She should have realized it right away, but for some reason Maea had never associated Harper with the kind of person who lost control of himself. Perhaps that was part of what made the drink and the sex so alluring, and why the remedy was only partially effective. After some internal debate, she decided she didn't mind. If this state allowed him to be free for a moment, then who was she to deny him? Nothing he could say or do would frighten her, anyway. It was Harper, if he wanted to harm her she would have been dead a long time ago.
The offered bottle was accepted without comment. A careful sniff and a cautious sip told her straight away that she should stick to her wine; coughing as the liquor burned its way down her throat, she handed the flask back to him.
"Yeah, I can," she wheezed, out of breath - and stilled as his finger touched the back of her hand. Just that small point of connection, and yet it sent flares of sensation zipping through her skin. "Um... feel. Taste. Smell... it's all back." Clearing her voice, Maea tried to focus. Magic... what did she miss? "I think... water," she mused, eying Harper's hand as if she wasn't sure what to make of it. "It was versatile, but also creative. So many possibilities."
Frankly, the notion of asking the new goddess for anything was daunting. Maea hadn't met her yet, kept drawing parallels between her and the Voice, kept wondering if she would be judged again, overlooked again, tolerated only when she was no longer 'tainted'. And Ludo...
"I would do anything to mend the bond with Ludo," Maea murmured. Shifting her weight, she leaned herself aside, just enough for an arm to brush against Harper's. Whether to seek or offer assurance she wasn't sure. "But I'm... scared. What if the only way for me to atone for my mistakes is to return to the halls of the dead?" She had never feared death before. Never had much to live for, really. But the thought of breaking the few promises she cared to uphold... it made her hesitate.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Part of the reason he avoids the few people who make a point to see him is because he knows it must make them uncomfortable to see him this way, especially when he never indulged even to the point of being tipsy in the past. His current state prevents him from being shrewd enough to appreciate Maea’s faith in him, but he’s able to tell when the liquor disagrees with her, plucking it back from her hands with a deep warm chuckle.
Free of inhibitions or second thoughts, Harper gently turns her hand over as she continues to talk, tracing the lines in her palm with a calloused finger. When he runs out, he pauses and lays his palm against hers; not quite holding hands, but something similarly companionable. “What do you miss most about it, aside from the feeling? I still have your ring. We could go walking, or swimming?” As he offers it, he knows it won’t compare, that the loss might be felt internally where his hands can’t reach to piece together the broken bits. It doesn’t mean he won’t try.
“My oldest son, Edmund, became Ancient after the war. I haven’t met her myself, but I know more than most.” Enough to trust sending her to Dygra at all. His thumb curls around the side of her hand, squeezing gently, hazy eyes understanding and filled with dark shadows. “I’ll come with you, if you want. To either of their shrines.” His smile is lopsided and sad, but Harper has never been able to stop smiling, even in his darkest moments. “I’m just as lost as you are. My faith in Safrin is broken. I don’t know where to turn now.” They can be two peas in a sad little pod, visiting whichever god she chose.
It was a measure of the trust she had for him that he was allowed to keep her hand. The brush of Harper's calloused palm against her scarred, puckered skin grated against her consciousness, reminded her of all the worst things those hands of hers had done - sins he knew of. She had told him about them, and yet there he was all the same. Reaching out. Offering to help. Forgiveness wasn't something she'd ever asked for, nor would she, but this acceptance... it weakened her resolve to steer clear of people.
Drawing a deep breath, she closed her fingers lightly around his. "It's difficult to explain," she said, drawing out her words as she sought some comparison that would make sense. "It was like... a connection. Like having a piece of light nestled next to the heart. If I let my mind drift, I could feel all the water in the land around me. Without it, I am cut off and disconnected. I only feel myself." And she didn't much care for what she felt when reaching inward. Something dark was lurking in the shadows of her being, hungry and restless, waiting for her to let her guard down so it could come out. No, swimming wouldn't really cut it... but the offer was gift enough. And she was startled to hear that he still kept the ring she had given him.
Craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of it, Maea then peered up at her friend. She'd forgotten he had children. Found that it fit him, somehow, even if it was the farthest thing from what she'd ever desired herself. The understanding in his gaze as their eyes connected rendered her speechless for some time, moments spent plucking with the tankard and finally fishing up a slice of cheese to nibble on.
"... I don't know either," she admitted. "I would accept your offers in a heartbeat, except I don't know what to do with anything I asked for. Even if my magic returned, I honestly don't know if it would solve anything. People... The people I know seem to have so many things they dream of. Skills, family, work, passions that they lose themselves in and work hard for. I don't have any of that. I don't even care for my own homeland, or the faceless mass that is 'the people'. Doing something for others, the thought just makes me annoyed. And then guilty."
Frowning at the cheese, she set it back on the plate half eaten. Her grip on Harper's hand tightened, a flare of temper rising - or at least frustration - and then it was gone again.
"I'm sorry Safrin let you down. Is that... why you are here? Like this?" Touring the bars. Losing himself in others. Maybe she ought to send a prayer of thanks to the Lady of stars, if she was reason why Maea had been able to meet Harper again, even for just a moment.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
He had kept her secret eternally. Even now nobody knows who truly burned down the clinic that night. Her scars don't scare him. Even standing against the Voice before the war, even the thought of her biting him had not scared him. He fears even less these days, with how far removed he is from the world, but the only thing that has come close is wondering when she will lose the fight against her own crushing self-worth.
"I don't think that's hard to understand. It’s how I feel about my shifts." Inky black feathers sprout down his arm and over his knuckles. which he uses to gently trace her palm with instead. Whether it is a byproduct of an entire season of only knowing flirtation or some attempt to provide her even more sensations to make up for the time she'd been without them, well - he doesn't think about it honestly. The color difference against her skin is mesmerizing enough to entertain him without examining his own behavior.
Catching her looking, Harper retrieves his left hand to show where the ring sits on his forefinger, the only one he wears anymore despite the fading line at the base of his knuckle where years of wearing his wedding ring in Torchline had left a mark. One that he wants to disappear, but the downpour in the Grounds hasn't been helpful in that endeavor. As her frustration mounts and she squeezes his hand, Harper intertwines their fingers shamelessly and squeezes back as he looks intensely into her eyes.
"Who cares what everyone else's reasoning is? If it makes you feel better, if it makes you want to live for once. then do it. Ask for it." His ferocity is clearly a personal echo, but Harper has also seen Maea on the edge so many times that if anything could pull her back, he would jump for it. "Ask for a wand that makes endless bubbles, or shoes that play music when you dance, or a ring that makes you breathe underwater instead so you can sit in it for hours." Silly, meaningless, useless to everyone else. Serious, meaningful, necessary for broken people like them. "All those people out there? The general masses? They don't deserve your fealty, and they don’t need it. Your first loyalty should be to yourself; gods know you deserve it, Maea." And Harper has only just started figuring that out for himself these days. Selfishness is only seen that way by outsiders with no clue what you're going through, and they can keep their thoughts to themselves it they won't lift a finger to help.
He slumps backward, taken aback by his own ferocity and equally gutted by the wording of her question. Finally averting his eyes for the first time Harper frowns out at the crowd, gaze distant. "Partly. Phoebe disappeared time and time again. I moved on tried to love again - only for the same to happen with someone I saw as my best friend. And I was asked to forgive and understand over and over and over." His face twists with grief and anger, because he had done so endlessly, and where had it gotten him? "I ruled Torchline briefly. But I was miserable. I only ever moved there for love, and I had lost love for everything on her sands, including myself." Harper hasn't spoken it so plainly to anyone so far, and he withdraws slightly into himself, guilt chasing on his heels as time ticks by and sobriety creeps in. He takes a swig from the flask to preemptively chase it away once more. “All I regret is that I left my sons, though they’re old enough now to make their own way. And now I’m here - winning the title for biggest disappointment,” he jokes darkly, winking at her and pulling his hand away from hers as if punishing himself.
The feathers were beautiful. If they reminded her of someone else for a moment, Maea chased the memory away with a deep gulp of the wine. Still steaming, it flushed her throat without burning it and left an aftertaste of spices once thought exotic and rare. Tired of flinching, she braved the distance and touched a clawed finger to the shimmering darkness, for the simple pleasure of its softness.
Maybe it was the same as her magic. Maybe it didn't have to be. Maybe all that mattered was that her aching need for something more than just herself was not batted away, dismissed as too much, too greedy.
As Harper caught her gaze and held it, she felt the force of his words like a flood washing through her mind. Painful, in the ways he told her things she had stopped believing in. Did she really deserve anything? Was it really not too much, to ask for silly trinkets of no value to anyone but herself? The lump in her throat grew, tears prickling her eyes without quite falling, and by the time he slumped back into the seat Maea was left breathless and overwhelmed, shaken by his faith in her.
Quietly, she listened as he went on, laying bare his own burdens. Shifting so that she sat turned towards him, she gave him space and returned his hand when he seemed to need it, only plucking aimlessly at the edge of her own sleeve.
"Love is a poison," she mumbled, knowing the fool it made of people firsthand. "It's sweet, but I don't think it's reason enough to do anything. Not anymore." Desert mirage, poisoned dagger, double edged sword; "Leastways, I don't think it's good for anyone who doesn't love themselves first. It's too easy to get swept away."
Holding out a hand, she mutely asked for his bottle. Should he care to offer it again, she would take it and the hand he held it in as well, unwilling to let go right away.
"What... what would you do, if you could do anything in the whole world? No limits, no conditions." Leaning forward, intent on what his answer might be, her eyes kept changing hue in the flickering lamplight.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Harper has no qualms with her touch, whether it lands on his skin or his feathers. He scarcely notices it, the physical creature that he is. For so long he was touch-starved to the point of shaking apart with it, but after a season of finding comfort in any warm body he could find, the hypersensitivity has faded at last. It doesn't linger - something Harper despises - but he suspects it's due to a lack of emotional investment on both sides.
In fact, this is the first time he has experienced any level of resurgence of emotional connection or history with someone. He worries he may have scared her off with his vehemence. For a moment he holds his breath until the air burns in his lungs, second-guessing himself. When she responds without otherwise spurning him, he tries to exhale it subtly, slowly; reluctant to reveal how much her reaction meant to him in that moment.
"Unfortunately I still believe in it," he mutters, staring down at his flask, seeing a face that never made it to Caido. "I just think people are poison. Not all - but some. And everything those poisoned people touch is bound to rot, no matter how sweet the love." Like a rotten apple sitting sly at the bottom of a barrel, ready to destroy the entire bushel. To anyone else, it would be a disparaging comment against his exes, but Harper thinks the poison is something he carries in himself - and it's why he doesn't think self-love has any hope of fixing it. He has minimal ill-will toward himself. Clearly the issue is something deeper.
Handing over the bottle when he might otherwise not have were he sober, Harper lets his hand drop to the table when she takes it, considering her question for a long moment. "Go home," he admits softly, envisioning skyscrapers and brilliant lit up skylines first, then - "To my world, sure, but specifically to where I was born. A traveling circus." He isn't sure if she's ever seen one, and if she has, if the few measly kinds Harper has ever seen in Caido could possibly translate the brilliance and gaudiness of what he'd once known. "And I would fly on the trapeze, or around the ring on our animals, enchanting kids and entertaining tired souls..." His blue eyes go distant and dark with yearning. "I would make people laugh and smile. Be someone other than myself in that spotlight. Or maybe just be me the way I truly am." Not a facade of showmanship but a revelation of heart.
Pulling himself from the vision is painful, but he manages a small smile for the woman across from him. "What about you?"
She had meant to reclaim Harper's hand more than the bottle. When that failed, Maea sighed and took a swig of the burning liquid instead. Prepared this time, it seared its way down her throat and set fire to her blood, leaving behind an aftertaste of wood barrels and smoke, and something salty sweet that did not belong in the Grounds. Torchline, maybe, or Stormbreak... places she had no connection to, once the faint aroma disippated on her tongue.
"I would go back in time," she replied, voice made husky by alcohol and bitterness, "and nail my feet to Halo's Citadel so I never go hunting for Ghost Whales. I would dedicate myself to the region I actually loved, attend the Academy and forget all about rotten people and their rotten promises." Another, longer pull from the flask and Maea offered it back to Harper.
"I'm sorry you can't go home. I know what that's like - a little bit. But is there something that's keeping you from doing the circus thing here? Well not here here," she corrected, waving a hand to the establishment at large - they were doing a good job of entertaining themselves - "but maybe... With a mask and a stage name, you could become anyone. Until you feel like being yourself."
Slumping back against the richly dyed upholstery, Maea's gaze lingered on her guest. Returned his smile just because it was him - she could smile for a friend - and if her jaw ached with some emotion and if her eyes shone too damp for that smile to be anything but painful and raw... at least she didn't have to hide it.
"I know what I might ask Dygra for," she added, when a thought struck her. "Removing any trace of the Voice and her workings from my body - taking them out and letting me start over. Properly. Like the time between my dying and waking up in this body never even happened." Maybe it wouldn't make any difference. But what if it did? At the very least she would have made some kind of decision and followed through with it.
It would be the first time since the hospital fire. All she'd done since was drift aimlessly, no goal or end in sight.
I'm bleeding out for you
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
