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!
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
It's like 2pm and I've not surfaced outta bed yet. I figure it's fine - there's no work to do today in the shop (or is there? fuck if I know) and Everest'll probably appreciate the quiet morning if he's home. All this is to say my mouth feels like someone took a shit in it and I think I climbed into bed the wrong way round. My ten little piggies have had a great snooze on my pillows at least. Smells like dog breath down here though. Is that me? I bet it's me.
"Mmm... Buon giorno," I grunt, dragging the blankets away from my face. There's no one in bed with me (today) but it's always polite to say good morning, I find, just in case. I roll over, and what do you know, it's the end of the bed and whump, I fall, sheets and all, onto the ground. "Mph... I'm good, I'm good."
Standing up is a wobbly affair, and I kick over a glass of water - oops - and step on a Lego on the way into the apartment space that is a kitchen-diner-lounge-whatever else. "Mio Dio, what'd I do last night...?"
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
10-12-2021, 03:14 PM (This post was last modified: 10-12-2021, 03:25 PM by Everest.)
Everest
The rustling one room over seems to have about as much effect on the man seated at his kitchen table as it does the cup of coffee left forgotten on the counter. This isn't quite so however; Ever's fingers smoothly change his breakfast order from QUANTITY: 1 to QUANTITY 2 without hesitation, before submitting the order.
Neatly placed on the table around him are intricate sketches of body parts—hearts, clavicles, femurs, vocal cords—rendered with anatomical precision and a strangely gothic and slightly off-putting artistic flare. The ornate pen Ever uses to sketch with hovers above the page as Mateo comes wombling out of his room looking like he was about to enter a toga contest (and win). Reaching into his back pocket Ever pulls out a small moleskin notebook and flips to the last entry. It has yesterday's date at the top, followed by a number of notations that include timestamps, addresses, and chemical symbols and approximate measurements. "You started at the Palliser and when asked by the bartender if you'd take her out after her shift, you replied in the affirmative." Ever replies, his tone emotionless as if he were detailing Mateo's evening to a hospital, or as testimony in court. "However you were distracted by the band who had just finished their set, and when they said they were going to cap their night off at the Unicorn, you demanded they come with you to the Vin Room instead." Pausing, the man at the table glances up to see how much of this is registering.
Tapping his finger against his notepad, it's at this point in the evening that the measurements and substances stop being of alcohol, and instead become complex letters and numbers, like C20H25N3O, and (3-(2-dimethylaminoethyl)-1H-indol-4-yl) dihydrogen phosphate
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Ooooh, look. A... a one of them. I love those." I plop down into the seat opposite my wide-awake roommate, mid-yawn, eyeing the beautiful, quiet horror of an upside down... well, I think it's a heart. Might be a kidney. I dunno. I don't even question it any more when the moleskin comes out, rubbing at a blue eye made sticky by sleep and waiting to hear the damage. Everest is the strong, silent type (A personality), so when he speaks, I know it's probably a good idea to listen.
"What? I don't even like the Vin Room," I mumble, blinking hard and dropping my hand, already reaching out with the other to drink the cold and untouched coffee. The honest answer is that I remember the Palliser and the band, but then everything goes pill-shaped. "I'll send the bartender some carnations. She seems the type to like carnations." I yawn, my mouth closing around the rim of the mug. "You working tonight?"
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
As Mateo looks upside down at a spleen with flowers wrapped around it not unlike a butcher might do with string, Ever frowns slightly but doesn't comment.
"I think it was the who in the Vin Room." Ever supplies helpfully (?). "The one with the colourful pants and the—" He gestures to his face, indicating a wild untamed beard and eyebrows. What the drug dealer's name was, the paramedic didn't know.
"I thought you said carnations were for the uninspired and boring." Mateo had also said something about how carnations were the flower-equivalent of someone ordering a LonDon FoG and thinking that made them seem interesting. Pausing, Ever has to consider his answer to Mateo's question. Tonight was a relative term of course, but in the context of what Mateo was asking, the answer was probably yes. "Yes."
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
I blink at the wild facial gesture, but combined with the colourful pants, it all clicks. "Ah, Andres. Il mio amico criminale!" I must have gotten something good from Andres at the Vin Room, because it's usually too pricey for my tastes. Or it would be if I ever paid to get in. (Paid with money, anyway). "Did I save any? Or did I... never mind." I shift in my seat. There are probably drugs somewhere. I don't want to know where until I get dressed.
Bored of this charade, I flamboyantly switch to third person.
"Carnations are for the uninspired and boring," Mateo murmurs around another gulp of coffee, setting the mug down where it will naturally leave a ring stain because it's just next to the coaster, not actually on it. "'Kay. You want to go to dinner before? I got a coupon." He collects them meticulously, and usually they're expired. For some reason, people at restaurants never seem to care.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
10-12-2021, 04:57 PM (This post was last modified: 10-12-2021, 04:59 PM by Everest.)
Everest
It isn't fair to say that Ever is fluent in conversational Italian, because that would imply that what sings from Mateo's lips is conversational. What's more accurate is that Ever is fluent in transactional-narcotics and pleas for food and water in Italian. This is all just to say that his friend's colourful description of Andres receives a small nod of agreement from the paramedic.
If Ever knew if and where there were more drugs (based on last night's transactions, current drug prices, and the amount injected), he isn't saying. Mateo can go for that scavenger hunt on his own. As the doorbell rings, Ever neatly gets up from his chair, carefully not to bump the table, and heads toward the door. Offering a polite thank you! to the delivery man, he returns with a bag smelling of Mexican rice and fresh bread. Holding a container out to Mateo containing rice, sosig, egg, and fresh guacamole, Ever first goes to the fridge to collect a jar of raspberry jam, before sitting back down at the table.
"Sure." He replies, sounding a touch toneless, which was really just par for the course when it came to the paramedic. "There is also a Halloween party at work. I've been told that I have to go. And dress up." Pausing, and looking woefully unhappy about this, he adds: "Will you go with me?"
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
The doorbell goes and Mateo finishes his coffee and disappears back into his room to go fishing for drugs get himself dressed. It doesn't take long, suggesting that his search is not particularly fruitful (fuck), but he returns having shrugged out of his toga at least, wearing a bright shawl, a pair of soft grey yoga pants and bunny slippers. "OoOoOo," he trills as he's handed the container, already cracking it open so he can shovel forkfuls of egg and sosig and rice into his mouth.
"Waaaaaaaaait," he demands, despite not having waited himself, and he hurries to the windowsill where some yellow roses have been cut and arranged. Plucking one out, he sets it into the empty coffee mug and sits himself back down. Reaching out, Mateo adds a generous dollop of jam to his Mexican rice, before continuing his meal.
"Oh I love Halloween parties!" He nods to his friend, sitting cross legged in his dining chair and holding his container under his chin so he doesn't spill anything on his shawl. "We should do a couples costume. That'll really spin the rumour mill about you."
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Though Ever doesn't comment, Mateo's outfit is the sort that normally inspires coos of lust from the men and women his friend brings home. The paramedic doesn't really understand the reactions—Mateo looks both comfortable in his attire and likely chose it for purely pragmatic reasons—and yet had the pair been joined by a third this morning, this was normally the point shenanigans would begin and Mateo and co would either disappear into his room, or Ever would excuse himself to his.
Ever does wait, patient and obedient. "Can I eat now?" He wonders, glancing from the rose to Mateo and back to the rose again.
Able to eat with the container on the table without fear of spilling, Ever pauses with a well-proportioned bite of food on the way to his mouth. "I am content for them to think we're dating." He says with a one-sided shrug. "It stops them from trying to set me up on dates." Well. That wasn't precisely true. Those who did think he was involved with Mateo were also inclined to think Mateo was a terrible partner (as evidenced by the number of times he was brought into the ER to have his stomach pumped, and how his social media feeds rarely featured him kissing the same person more than once (none of whom were Ever, except that one time)), and so regularly did try to set him up on dates.
"I was just going to go as a paramedic, since I already have the clothes for it."
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Of course you can, snookums," Mateo sings, and one might be excused for thinking the pet name comes as a result of Ever's next comment about dating, but one would be wrong. The dating remark is just an added extra, and Mateo gasps at his friend hard enough that he almost breathes in a bite of rice. "Well I'm not - you haven't even asked me on a date yet," he informs him, mixing in the last of the jam and egg and finishing his lunch (breakfast?) in record time, moving onto the bread.
"Oh, c'mon Ever. That's such a cop out. What if I go as a paramedic, and I use your clothes. I've always thought I'd look good in those tight navy blue pants." He'd shimmy his butt, but he's seated right now (and also he's still not sure about those drugs). "You could take one of those patient gowns from work right? Just make sure you don't wear underwear - makes it seem legit."
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Not unlike a dog, Ever has received a number of nicknames over the duration of this strange friendship. In the beginning, he'd questioned some of them ("I'm neither old nor a woman, and you aren't russian" he'd argued when called "babushka"), but now he just took them in stride. "Well, none of them know that, do they?" Ever cleverly points out. 'For all they know, we go on dates every day, and I ask you out for all of them."
Opening his mouth to dissect the aptness of cop-out (it seemed such a strange turn of phrase, but at least it was in English), Ever puts his fork down and frowns. "I don't think they would be tight on you." He notes. Mateo had the wiry build of a drug addict with Redbull in his veins instead of blood, whereas Ever had built up the muscles needed to raise gurneys off the ground and deadlift patients who were incapacitated. "I think I would get cold." Ever argues, as if being a bit chilly wearing just a glorified tablecloth made of paper was his only problem with this idea.
"What if we go as characters from that show you like? With the old man, and the numbers, and the...death?"
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"No one would believe that Ever," Mateo says wisely, his voice muffled around bread and jam. "If anything, I'm the one that does all the asking. I invited you to dinner just a few minutes ago, in fact." He shrugs, as if offended that he's apparently now they are dating and he's done all the work about it. The situation grows even more dire when he learns that the tight navy paramedic pants won't look so tight on his immaculate arse, his hand flying dramatically against his chest.
"What if we borrowed a stretcher and I could push you around in it? You'd be able to lay down under the blankets then," he says. But then Ever is mentioning something even better and Mateo is nodding enthusiastically. "Oooooh okay! But I want to be one of the VIPs. The Russian one, with the antler mask," he decides.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
"Why is that?" Ever wants to know. In his mind, he's perfectly capable of asking Mateo on dates. Or anyone else. Probably. 'Well...yes, but..' Frowning, Ever considers the yellow rose. "I just asked you to the party, didn't I?"
Not wanting to touch the subject of Mateo and his pants any more than he has to, he does his best not to immediately write-off his friend's next suggestion (hard as that is). "That...uhm.." If Ever is flushing, his well-trimmed beard likely hides most of it. "That isn't the one who...had..the cop, and..." There were lots of things about the show that made Ever frown, but certainly the forced fellatio scene had been one. And if that was the one Mateo was thinking of, and if it was a couple's costume, Ever very much didn't like where things were headed.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Because you don't ask people on dates," Mateo says simply, finishing his bread and jam and dusting off his hands before getting more comfy cross-legged on his dining chair. "Mm, yes, you did. But did you ask me to the party because you wanted to, or because you didn't want to ask anyone else or go alone?" His smile is sweet but his eyes tell a different story, and he itches at the designer stubble on his chin that absolutely has gotten out of control.
The other man's stuttered response about their prospective Halloween costumes has Mateo scrunching his nose and pulling a face. "Ew no," he says. "No, that's the panther guy who was with the cop. The antler guy didn't pull that sort of shit. You know how I feel about consent."
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
"I also don't go rock climbing, but it doesn't mean I can't." Ever replies reasonably. "Did you ask me to dinner tonight because you wanted to, or because you did not want to make pretend conversation with someone else?" He counters, as if one thing has anything to do with the other. "Fine. I will correct anyone who thinks we are dating then." Pushing his rice around the container so that it made a protective wall against his remaining egg, Ever raises his eyebrows as the conversation continues inside his head.
"Mmm, okay." The paramedic agrees with a relieved nod. "So who does that make me, then?" Ever wonders, now unsure if they've ditched the couple's costume idea given that hypothetically Ever hadn't asked Mateo out on enough dates.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
