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!
Letting her pebble blues flit over to where a wiry if not otherwise perfect blend of Ronin and Remi Taliesin does, in fact, seem to be chatting it up with another pretty young woman, Isla can't help the way her expression softens and a smile warms her pale cheeks. "He's doing well for himself, then?" she assumes - hopes, really. "And you aren't wrong - that is why he's named after me. It's a long story, though." And definitely one for another day, her tone suggests.
Dragging her gaze away from Mateo to snag another drink from one of those serving them, Isla will be thoroughly glad of this in just a second, because the tea Flora has to spill about Sunjata is piping hot, apparently. "He what," she manages, though honestly at this point she's not sure about what part. Is it? Is that Torchline for you? she wants to ask, but settles on a breathless laugh and a long, long drink.
"And you invited them all," she says, and whether Flora is deserving of it or not, Isla suddenly finds her a touch intimidating.
"Yeah, I think so." Flora confirms, her eyes also settling upon Mateo, before cocking her head back in Isla's direction with a slightly disappointed slant to her lips. "Welll...Auntie Phoebe and I are going for manicures tomorrow if you want to come?" And tell me about it then she doesn't say, but instead thinks really really hard.
Not noticing at all the subtle change in Isla, Flora just shrugs offhandedly. "I mean, none of that is my fault." She protests casually. "Hotaru is my mom and Remi is my dad, so of course they're here. Phoebe is my aunt...I mean, sort of, and Sunjata has owned the most bars out of anyone so he seemed a good person to ask for help about this. And I couldn't not invite him after that, you know?" That they'd all fucked each other in varying combinations was just the icing on the cake, in Flora's opinion, because who didn't love a bit of sexual tension with their alcohol ?
"Good," Isla says, and if there was any tension in her with regard to Mateo, at least, Flora's confirmation manages to melt it away. The offer of manicures is such a surprise that she's honestly not sure she's heard the Doubletake right first of all, and the polite confusion shows on her face. "You know, it has been years since I got one," she admits; doctors do not have much of a call for manicures, wartime doctors even less.
Relaxing further, she nods to the young woman. "No, of course it isn't your fault. I suppose sometimes people forget that they need to come face to face with their own decisions, right?" Hello pot, it's kettle. What a lovely ebony hue.
Rolling her shoulders as if actively trying to put her swimming thoughts to bed like good little fishies, Isla focuses properly on the Doubletake again. "So what comes next for you, now that business is booming in this place again?"
"Perfect timing then!" Flora trills, taking Isla's reluctance as acceptance. "Last time we had pedicures where they had these fish that ate the dead skin from your feet." She adds with a bubbly shrug. "And since Auntie Phoebe used to run the brothel here, maybe you can swap business tips." Look how perfectly it was all working out!
"Gods exactly." Nodding as if Isla had just said the most magical of words, Flora tosses an exaggerated look around the party as if she might somehow transmit this truth to anyone out there who might have thoughts and feelings about her guest list.
"Ohh..I have some things in the works." It's vaguely said despite Flora's growing inebriation. That she liked Isla was no reason to just...welcome the Remedy into the Thieves Guild or even mention it. Besides, this was a party and she didn't really want to talk shop. "What about you? Just..brotheling out in King's End forever?"
The forced acceptance is something Isla needs, and she finds herself smiling back into her drink as she suddenly has plans for the next day; unexpected ones to say the least. "I'm not sure I'd want fish nibbling at my fingers," she says, as if the manicure might end up following the same pattern as the pedicure, "and I suppose we could, yes. Granted, I take care of things on more of a pastoral level. I'm a doctor." It has only just occurred to her that Flora might think she's an active participant in the brothel.
Some things in the works is enough of a tell for Isla not to probe more into it, and she gently clinks her glass against Flora's bottle of gin instead, as if to wish her the best in her endeavours. As for her own plans, Isla shugs openly. "I don't know," she confesses. "I'm still getting accustomed to being an Ancient, truthfully. I was an Ascended for years, and being able to taste and feel still surprises me."
"Ew, agreed." She'd endured the fish last time despite how weird it was and how much it tickled, mostly because Flora could just look away from the basin. But if it was her hands? Blech. No thanks. Frowning, her nose crinkling up such that the lines across the bridge of her nose nearly reaches her eyebrows, Flora tilted her head. "Pasto-oh! For a minute I thought you meant you were like..some religious leader or something." This is said with no small amount of relief on Flora's part. "That's cool though. Mateo's friend's mom is a doctor. Like, a real one. Not a magic one." Real doctors seemed to be in short supply these days, not that it was terribly surprising of course. But even someone like Flora could appreciate the elbow-grease that went into actually learning a skill rather than just magic-ing it into reality.
The clink of Isla's glass has Flora's attention focused on her gin once more, and without even a thought she lifts it to her lips. "Oh yeah, I noticed." Nosing toward the glisten of Isla's horns amidst her curls as evidence of this, Flora sets the bottle back down and pushes it toward Isla in case the new-ancient needed a refill. "Do you like it? Being an Ancient?"
"Mm? Oh no, that's quite alright. I've seen a couple of cults in my time, and besides, science is more of a religion than any of them." Even now, in a world where literal gods and magic exists, Isla hasn't stopped believing that. "Oh, she is? That's interesting - I don't think I met many true doctors. Nate was the last one I knew," she confesses; all the more reason for her to keep her profession honed, she supposes.
Accepting the generous offer of a refill - something she'll regret when the botanicals remind of of the smell of a certain alchemist she's recently encountered - Isla tilts her head and considers Flora's question. "Very much," she says quietly, after a few moments. "It's like... being alive again. I've only been one for a couple of seasons. I stayed Ascended for over a year after the war ended, believe it or not. I lost someone really close to me during it, and I just couldn't face having all those changes on top of the grief."
It's funny, though, because the grief still comes and goes like the tide.
Vague disquiet flutters across Flora's face to hear that science was at all cult-like, before something a touch mischievous realigns her smile. This was information she would definitely be passing onto a certain friend, who she was sure would be horrified by the implications. "Mmhm. Phoebe was too, before..." Flora rolls her wrist in a gesture that's far more Remi than she'd like to admit. Before she was a demigod. "Or well, a midwife, but same thing." Was it? Flora didn't care.
The turning tide of the conversation has the laughter dulling in the Doubletake's aqua eyes as she nods with weighty understanding. "Yeah..my twin died during the war. Just down the road, actually." Glancing to the side as if she might see through the wall and the buildings that stood in between where she now sat with Isla and where Enzo had taken his last breath, Flora considers for a moment before looking back. "Everyone told me just to move on and cheer up and like..get myself out of it? But I didn't want to. It felt like too much work, and like betrayal? and just..no." Clearly she had worked out of it, but in her own time.
"Sorry you lost someone, though." And even though it went without saying, Flora still felt the need to say it: "Fucking stupid war."
06-02-2023, 06:41 PM (This post was last modified: 06-02-2023, 06:41 PM by Isla.)
ISLA
"Oh?" Isla is sure that she knew that about the Nightingale, but gods if the march of time and two deaths don't make a girl's memory a little hazy. Not to mention the whole war scenario. "I bet we'll have a good conversation tomorrow, then." Smiling, it surprises Isla that she's suddenly very much looking forward to it.
But, like Flora, the temperature of the conversation takes a solemn nosedive, but considering the subject matter, it only feels right. "Your twin," she whispers, not having realised Remi had gained two children as a result of his tryst with Hotaru. And had lost one. "Gods, I'm so sorry to hear that," she adds, and not just because it's polite. Theirs is a pain felt exquisitely in its similarity, such that the Remedy adds her own, "Stupid fucking war," in echo of Flora's sentiment.
"I didn't have anyone telling me how to grieve, luckily," she says, though her wry smile betrays her. I didn't have anyone at all, that's why.
"Totally. Just..not too early." Flora isn't planning on letting the night go quite yet, and given that she's into Remi's gin nearly 1/4 of the way herself, she doesn't plan on waking up until the sun is at least midway over Torchline.
"Yeah...He was..." Wistfully, because how else could she be? Flora smiles and nods. 'Enzo." It's the only word she'll ever say with the flair of the Travelling Tongue, and gods if his name doesn't roll painfully easily over her lips. "My dad called down Mort so that we could all say goodbye to him properly." Flora adds, and though this is infinitely more than most people get, gods if it hadn't been nearly enough. When your dad was a demigod you expected more than just the world handed to you: you expected to skirt death, or at least defy it. The realization that Remi couldn't provide that had been a blow Flora had never quite recovered from. "I promised to live a life worthy of the both of us, so...I guess that's what I'm trying to do."
"Absolutely not too early," Isla agrees, because all of these drinks are going down far too easily, and she's still far too much of a lightweight for them not to have an effect on her. "I'll come here at about noon, and if no one is around you'll find me sunbathing on the sand outside," she decides. Even sober she thinks she'd have approved of that plan, and so it becomes cemented in her mind then and there.
Enzo drops from Flora's lips with all the weight of a spell, and Isla finds a painful sort of smile spreading across her face to hear that Remi had called down Mort himself to say goodbye, because of course he had. "I'm glad you were able to have that last moment with him," she says. "I'm trying to do something similar, I guess. Just trying to be more like Cal was. It's difficult, though. I think I'm more like that straight arrow Merfolk you talked about. Cal was funny, silly, laid back. He made being alive easy."
Shrugging, Isla shuts the lid on that box quickly, raising her glass to Flora instead. "To Enzo," she toasts.
"Just so long as you don't sleep out there." Flora agrees with a toothy grin. "I've got an extra room at mine if you-" She glances out toward where Sunjata and Hotaru were still, before looking back to Isla. "-need a place to sleep." Since her buSineSs ParTnEr still looked busy.
And so Isla and Flora had done the classic thing, of having laughed, gossiped, unintentionally said the wrong sorts of things, and had finally landed on nearly crying. Such was the norm for white girls and alcohol, you see.
"To Cal." Flora echoes, raising the bottle of Remi's gin. "And...to doing things in your own way." Because it sounded very much that while they were going about it differently, that both the Remedy and the Doubletake were aiming to do just that.
