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 Peregrine was a fine little boat and she worked harder than skyships ten times her size, tacking and racing the wind like her namesake. But she needed a little loving care and maintenance to keep her running, and so it was that Tal had thrown the ground-anchor over the side in the peaceful fields of Meadowreach on a late Longheat day and set about some of that very necessary but very time consuming work.
The cream-colored sails were spread out flat across a stretch of sweet-smelling grasses and fading flowers while the courier carefully shuffled around them in his bare feet, examining the stitching and pinning snips of bright red ribbon to areas in need of mending. There were already half a dozen places marked, and he paused to wipe sweat from his brow and take a long drink from a jug of water he carried with him.
Boreal had splooted herself out on a low, flat rock nearby, blissfully soaking up the sun as only a lizard could, her eyes closed and the tip of her tongue sticking out in a reptilian blep of pure contentment.
The skyboat itself, though currently without sails at the moment, could be seen for a fair distance around, especially from the tops of the nearby hills.
It isn’t that far of a trek for the young man to make — Meadowreach a convenient space for him to settle into, always content to lounge around within the confines of the flowers, not unlike a cat wanting to sunbathe. Only this time on his approach, he appears not unlike a ghost — loathes hanging loosely on a thin frame, adorned with tight fitting clothes beneath it fitting of his workplace.
Not that he’s shy or anything. He’s exactly the opposite as he spots the boat and promptly drifts over curiously, flashing a grin and a wave of greeting to the stranger (because he certainly hasn’t seen Tal inside the House of Midnight before).
He doesn’t notice the dragon as he vocalizes his greeting. “You have a very nice boat.” He trills, whistling lightly as he peeks up at the hull of the ship.
If Boreal had noticed the stranger's approach, she hadn't bothered to alert her companion. If the man hadn't waved just when Tal had glanced over in that direction he could have snuck right up on the courier and given him a startle. It was just as well that he was more considerate than that, because his approach from a distance gave Tal a chance to make himself presentable for company: he ran his fingers through his shaggy, windblown hair and cracked his neck after so long spent looking down, then watched the approach of the fluttery-clothed person with cautious wariness.
Though the courtesan couldn't have known it, compliments to that boat were one of the surest ways in to the grumpy courier's good graces, and his resting scowl-face lightened considerably when that was the first thing out of the handsome guy's mouth. "Yeah, she's a beaut, isn't she?" Tal agreed proudly, his chest puffing out a little. "She's called 'th'Peregrine.' An' I'm Tal. Talyson Seawright, courier," he added, for once remembering his manners without Boreal's prodding. Probably because he was better at introducing his ship than himself. "What about you?"
If he notices the way Talyson’s frown sits on his face before Thorn speaks, he pays it little mind. Instead, captivated as he is by the boat, the courtesan straightens out a little, casting his seafoam gaze toward the courier at his introduction. “She is.” Thorn hums, though the tone comes out similarly to a catlike purr.
Stepping closer to the courier he extends his hand for a shake, bending flexibly for a brief moment to flash his grin brighter. “Hawthorn Mercer. Everyone calls me Thorn, though.” The arm extended shows tattoos that swirl around his wrist like shackles, a mixture of vines that wrap with thorns spread throughout them.
“Think I’ve heard of you before.” His head tilts, that playful smile returning as he meets Talyson’s gaze.
Part of Tal couldn't help but notice how handsome the other man was, though it wasn't a part he listened to much anymore. Still, Thorn practically oozed sensuality, from his sultry voice to his graceful movements. Even his clothes were attractively elegant, showing off his well-formed body while leaving enough to the imagination to tantalize the possibilities of what lay beneath the soft fabric.
But most importantly, he appreciated a well-made skyboat, which was worth more than any pretty face in Tal's biased opinion. The courier reached out to take the offered hand in a firm shake, glancing down in time to catch sight of the distinctive tattoo. "Uh. Good stuff... I hope?" He wanted to ask about the ink, but the threat of notoriety had him retrieving his hand to rub at the back of his neck in sudden anxiety, wondering just what the man had heard... and from whom. "Don't s'pose you're from King's End?"
The tattoo is a matching one from his other hand, hidden briefly behind his back, but one that makes an appearance a few seconds later after the firm shake — one that has him grinning. “Word travels fast in the House of Midnight.” He hums, withdrawing to focus back on the hull of the peregrine, his opposite hand lifting to block the sun so he can get a better look, pretending to ignore the way Tal rubs his neck in a moment of anxiety.
“’Course I have.” He purrs. “The Flood and his new sweetheart have only said good things.” He assures him, tilting his head slightly and looking sidelong toward Tal with amusement and playfulness, still catlike in his movements. “I haven’t seen you at the House before, though..?”
02-29-2024, 05:43 AM (This post was last modified: 02-29-2024, 07:07 PM by Talyson.)
"Th'House o'...? Oh!" He might have made the occasional delivery to the brothel, but he'd never had reason to go inside the doors. His imagination tried to run wild for a moment before he firmly reined it in, relieved when Thorn's regard turned back to the ship. It gave the courier a chance to catch his breath and his metaphorical balance, and he breathed a sigh of relief that was intended to be surreptitious.
It... really wasn't. Not with Thorn watching out of the corner of his eyes. But Tal perked up and let his hand drop back to his side as he was reassured about any potential rumors. He almost grinned at the mention of Hotaru, and his hands found their way into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels and joined the other man in admiring the Peregrine. "Yeah? Yeah, o' course, haha..." The purred query that followed brought a wry grin to his face as he gave an indelicate snort. "Nah, no one ever notices th'delivery boys," he said, though there was no bitterness in his tone, only a matter-of-fact acceptance of the way of the world. "Never really had much time or reason t'go inside." A shrug lifted his shoulders, speaking volumes as his grin turned more crooked. "Too many places t'be, an' not enough time. 'Sides, I got a partner now," he added, equal parts proud and a little shy.
Realizing how much of the talking he was doing, he cleared his throat self-consciously and wracked his brains for socially-acceptable small talk that combined with genuine curiosity. "So, uh... how long've y'worked there?"
Thorn knows he’ll catch on eventually to what he means, and in the meantime it simply means he can appreciate the skyboat and watch for his reaction when it hits (subtly of course). And as Tal continues, a velveteen laugh leaves him, the courtesan shifting where he settles his weight slightly, an arm folding across his chest while the other plants itself on his hip. “Well, I’m often quite deep inside, so, perhaps if you haven’t stepped within it’s why.” He points out with another amused and silky smooth hum from his lips.
His seafoam gaze returns to Tal at the mention of the partner, though, his lips twisted in that same playful smile as he nods, brow lifting slightly. “The House has good food and a good bar, even if the bartender can be a little sharp around the edges.” He starts to stretch out a little, starting with a shrug to point out that Tal didn’t have to go there to indulge if he wanted a good snack and a beer or something.
The stretch continues briefly, giving Tal the slight view of those very same thorned ivy marks that adorn his wrists are also on his midriff, dipping and curling downward to be hidden away by his clothing. “Mm, since it opened, basically. I originally worked in Torchline.” Which seems to fit that sunkissed bronze he has going on beneath the loose layers, even if Thorn was a Halo child to begin with.
Tal could be a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but once he'd put two and two - or rather, The House of Midnight and Hawthorn - together, the innuendo was a lot harder to miss. Thorn's subtle inflection startled a snort of laughter from the courier, and he grinned in spite of himself, even as he felt the heat crawling up the back of his neck and threatening the tips of his ears.
He felt the weight of that hot, green gaze on him and swallowed hard, eyes staying locked on the Peregrine for a little bit longer before he trusted himself to glance back over to the man - courtesan? - who stood beside him. "Yeah? I've been lookin' for a good bar here," he admitted, genuinely curious. "Is that, uh... normal? For brothels, I mean?" Though not exactly innocent, there was a naivete to the courier in certain ways; a lack of personal experience outside of the work he had thrown himself into, body and soul.
Not so naive that he missed the way Thorn stretched, or the lovely lines of his body as he arched and his clothing shifted to reveal more of the namesake tattoos. Tal stole at least two glances down at that bared midriff before dragging his eyes back to the Peregrine with a complicated wrinkle to his nose. "Huh. Wouldn't have thought King's End had much t'offer compared t'Torchline," he mused, before adding with belated loyalty to his new home: "Uh, I mean, yet. We're gettin' there!" Some of his embarrassment dropped away in a grimace as he looked out over Meadowreach and to the mountains to the southwest. "...Though I guess it was a good thing y'weren't there for Starfall. I've been there a few times this season on delivery runs an', uh... they got proper fucked." He shook his head to chase away the sense of uneasiness thoughts of Starfall and the void brought. "But if y'got any friends back there y'want t'send letters or boxes to, just lemme know!"
There’s a quiet satisfaction Thorn receives from spying the heat that spreads along the courier’s neck. His playfulness easily having an effect that honestly helps the courtesan thrive. At Talyson’s question, though, his head tilts a little bit one way before the other, as if considering whether or not it was normal, before he shakes his head. “They typically tend to have a few options for bars. Nothing like this one though. Suppose it comes with the territory when the owner’s made the VlamVloed and the Kraai.” Both bar expansions the Flood had done in the past, now no longer owned by him but the touch lingers.
A sharp grin shoots Tal’s way at his comment of King’s End, though. “Mm, I’d been meaning to make a change for a while. There’s only so many ways to fuck a sailor before it becomes boring. And I had done my fair share of it.” His tone nearly whines toward the end, full swing dramatics as an arm lifts to run his hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. As for the ruin, he had heard through the grapevine and visitors about it, and it seems to only minutely sober the courtesan.
“I heard. That and Halo. Looks like I dodged two bullets there in picking my happy medium.” He shrugs lightly, before that saccharine smile returns. “I’ll keep it in mind. Alas, I only had contacts in Torchline who now come here if they want to see my darling face.” He winks to the Messenger, before he shifts a little in the grass with how the suns moved, aiming to step into the light a bit more rather than let the peregrine cast a shadow over him.
"Huh. Never been in the Valam... uh... flode? b'efore," Tal admitted, wracking his brain to try and place it. "Kraai's pretty decent, though. I'll have t'come by an' have a drink here, then. See if it lives up to the rep." He flashed Thorn the briefest flicker of a grin, careful to keep his eyes on the other man's face with a self-conscious courtesy that he hadn't quite realized was probably unnecessary.
The cheerfully coarse language didn't seem to faze the courier, who might have fallen into the same category as some of those sailors who had been Thorn's bread and butter. Whether a ship sailed on the sea or the clouds, her crew and captain were still 'sailors.' But in spite of the heat that was setting up permanent camp in his ears, Tal couldn't help his fascination with Thorn's exotic vocation. "But isn't it mostly sailors here, too?" He was thinking of the Boondocks and Castaway Exchange, but maybe that's because where he spent most of his time in King's End. "I'd've guessed Halo would've had th'fewest. More trappers'n hunters there." And a warm, willing bedpartner went a long way towards making those long, cold Halo nights more tolerable!
He blinked at the wink, managing something that was like a smile as he struggled with the idea of not wanting to keep in touch with anyone back where, he wrongly assumed, was 'home.' He followed Thorn out of the shade however, and after moment's hesitation he shuffled back to his sails to continue his inspection while they talked.
“The Flood keeps a good rotation on the drinks.” Thorn offers with a very casual and languid shrug. It was leagues above the things that Halo had to offer before the Kraai came around, and something that Thorn quite often relished in when he wasn’t working. During work, however, mixed cocktails with little to no alcohol were typically his go to.
With some exceptions of other vices, that is.
As for the sailors here, it sparks a huff of a laugh, another slight stretch of a shake of his head. “There are some, of course. But people travel from all over to the brothel with shifting rooms, blessed by Frey and their demigod.” He nearly purrs toward the end with his own little delight over the fact. “So while yes, I still get sailors, it isn’t all day every day nor is it the same boring room again and again.” He’s content to stand in the sun while he speaks, like a cat soaking up its warmth as he watches the flush hit Tal’s ears.
Shaking his head to Tal’s assumption, the courtesan shifts to sit in the grasses and flowers, legs crossed beneath him as he watches (he’s little use for manual labor in the grand scheme, but he does love to watch). “Mm, I wouldn’t know. I grew up in Halo, wanted to explore the world and the stories people had. Turns out you get a lot of unique perspectives when you’re beneath ‘em.” He purposefully doesn’t look at Tal now, instead stretching again with his arms lifted above his head, falling back a little into the grasses and flowers, exposing more of that midriff and hidden tattoos.
"Huh. Wonder if that's where he got his nickname from?" A flood of alcohol was, admittedly, a very enticing thought to the courier, and one he knew he needed to keep better control of. But it wasn't easy, and he enjoyed the flavor of the booze as much as the effects...
He blinked his focus back onto the man he'd somehow ended up on a conversation in - just how that had happened so smoothly he wasn't quite sure, but he was kind of... enjoying it, actually? Huh. - and his eyes widened in understanding as a soft: "ooooh, right." mumbled out when Thorn reminded him of the House's peculiar abilities. It wasn't something he'd ever put much thought into, and he nodded in vigorous agreement with the line about boring rooms. "Drives me nuts, bein' stuck in one place too long," he admitted confidentially. "Huh, I wonder if y'could..." He trailed off, the heat fading a little as his expression screwed up into fierce thought.
The sails gave him something to focus on that wasn't quite so distractingly attractive, though he did sneak the occasional glance towards Thorn where the courtesan lounged in the grass like a jewel on a pile of emerald velvet. Or maybe a pampered feline, one of the sleek, slinky ones with the sharp faces and intelligent eyes. As he stuck another ribbon to mark a section that needed mending the mention of Halo surprised him enough that he pricked his thumb with the pin he was using and hissed. He quickly stuck his finger in his mouth to suck the blood away before turning back to Thorn with pale eyes that were suddenly bright with far more interest. "Wait, you're from th'Halo Mercers?" Finding the unexpected connection had the unfortunate side effect of pulling his attention away from Thorn's tantalizing abs and ink as the courier grinned with far more animation than he'd shown yet. "No kiddin'! My sisters run Seawright's Sundries, in Snowcloak! D'you know it?"
“I’ve never asked.” Thorn hums thoughtfully, unsure whether or not it was in fact from the smattering of bars around or something else. He does know the demigod fucks around with water a lot. But, ah, anyway. He lounges content and stretched out, soaking up the sun along his bronzed skin, sighing contently while Tal works and thinks, prepared to answer the question that would come next when it totally flies the opposite direction.
It’s enough to capture his seafoam gaze, Thorn shifting to prop himself up on his elbows and peer up at Talyson with a tilt to his head, wind blowing along the grasses around him and through his hair, tugging at his clothes. “Yeah, those Mercers.” Though his tone doesn’t seem to suggest he’s too happy with being recognized from his cold hearted family.
A familiar name crops up after, though, has him calculating and filtering back through his memories, only to snort at first before he barks a little laugh. “Yeah, actually. Think one time I went there to get a map from the store and was it.. your sister, Deirdre? Just gave it to me. Guess I looked a little heartbroken when I had nothing to bargain for it. Wasn’t blessed with my dad’s muscle.” Falling back and rubbing at his face he chuckles a little more. “I had to have been.. what? Thirteen?”
