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!
Well, Tal had never asked either, so that left them both in the dark for now. Maybe next time he saw Sunjata he'd remember to bring it up, but at the moment he had a job to do.
And a lovely distraction to try to keep his eyes off of so he didn't miss any spots on the sails that might wear through and tear in a storm before his next maintenance day.
His best intentions fell apart in a drop of blood and a sudden excitement at realizing he wasn't the only ex-Halovian around. It was a stronger reaction than he could have expected, relief and a weird feeling of camaraderie bringing the grin to his face as he abandoned the sails again to give Thorn his full attention. He missed the other man's tone, too buoyed by their shared birthplace to pick up on the key social cues that got most people through the day.
"Yeah, that sounds like Dierdre," he admitted with a lopsided grin. "A glare like a glacier an' a heart soft as ningo-down. Huh. Small world." He shook his head ruefully, but his usual scowl had faded away like mist before sunshine and he turned back to the sail with a decidedly more cheerful lift to his shoulders. "So when'd y'kite out an' spread your wings? Did y'get out before th'War?"
Despite the earlier gruffness of his expression, Tal doesn’t push Thorn further on the Mercers — likely a good thing given that he has absolutely nothing good to say about the family he hailed from. As it stands now, though, he rubs at his face with that same clear amusement, before those hands splay out at his sides again, eyes closed but facing the sky as the sun continues to warm him and he assumes Tal gets back to work if his hearing is correct.
“Yeah.” He does remember she scared the shit out of him and he was shocked when she had just given it to him. But that was a long time ago. “I left at sixteen. So… Six years ago? Traveled around, ended up working in Torchline, war hit and then I stayed in the Refuge. Kinda what got me thinking about King’s End in the first place.” And now that he could just transfer from Torchline to here without needing to figure out a different job? Well, it hooked him in. “Wanted a mix of the heat of Torchline but the snow of Halo.” And he’d gotten it.
While Thorn spoke, Tal let the honeyed voice wash over him as he pulled a needle and thick thread from his bag and settled in to start repairing the stitching on the places he'd marked. The grass was warm under his butt and the other man had a musical lilt to his voice that made him easy to listen to, and it definitely helped the time pass faster beneath the sun.
"Not enough snow. But it's more comfortable'n Torchline," was Tal's opinion, offered with a brief huff of laughter. "I was always sweatin' through my shirts makin' deliveries there, 'til I got somethin' from Frey t'help keep me cool. Even Longheat's okay there now." And he'd been doing his share to help the rebuilding, guilted into it after his talk with Sunjata and the letter from the King.
He glanced back to see that image of decadent relaxation, warm skin against cool grass, and after a pause that went on a little too long he quickly turned back to the sails, feeling the heat of what was probably a sunburn warming his neck. Yeah. That was it. "So, uh... Thorn. Y'got a favorite drink at th'House?"
“Just enough snow for me.” Thorn hums contently, letting the sun continue to permeate warmth around him, twisting slightly to drag his long fingers through the flowers, plucking a dandelion from the grasses to start plucking the petals from while they talked. “Ironically, I haven’t gone to see Frey. Perhaps I should.” He’d always followed them, especially now, but the thought hadn’t occurred to him – After all, being an Abandoned made it seem like one of the last things to do when he could just honor the god himself in his actions.
It's a thought that lasts all of about four seconds, as yellow petals start to rain down and he uses his air magic to swirl the wind a little, creating a tiny little useless tornado above his chest where the petals swirl around within, focusing on it while he contemplates his drinks. “It’s called a mojito, technically, but the bartender likes to give a little spin of whichever fruit syrup he has on hand.” The tornado vanishes for a moment, in favor of now slipping his hands behind his head, eyes closing again skyward as he purrs, “It’s very refreshing.” Especially after the nights he has. His head tilts, hair parting to reveal the three silver hoops in his ear that trail up the outside of the shell of it. “You seem like a beer kinda guy.” One seafoam eye slits open, peering at the courier from his position in the grass, looking down the length of his body to try and ascertain if he’s correct.
02-29-2024, 10:31 PM (This post was last modified: 02-29-2024, 10:46 PM by Talyson.)
Well, not every Halovian was a fan of snow, after eating it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every day of every season of every year until the War. Tal figured he could understand that, and nodded amiably as they shifted to less chilly topics. "I mean... I guess they say it's best t'go only if y'have somethin' t'really ask of 'em," he mused, feeling his way through the theology like a blind man across an icy lake. One that was dotted with ice fishing holes. "Somethin' y'want, that y'can't get without divine intervenin'. D'y'want anythin' like th--oh!" A backward glance caught the swirl of petals and for a moment there was a flash of naked envy and yearning across the courier's face before he hurriedly ducked his head and went back to his mending, stitching furiously until the patch he was working on was repaired.
A shift to the next ribbon helped him settle as did his change in conversation topics, and if Tal had been a dog his ears would have perked up in interest as Thorn described the mojito. "Mohita, huh? I'll have t'give it a try," he decided with a grin over his shoulder. He caught sight of the courtesan as he purred his approval of the drink, and his gaze lingered with a different sort of admiration a little too long. Seafoam green eyes opened and caught his and Tal realized that he was staring a little too late. With a flush that darkened his wind-browned cheeks he quickly turned back around to pluck at the sail canvas and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh. Yeah. Beer is... it's good. Ale. Lager. Vodka. Whiskey's nice. Gin if I'm feelin' fancy. Rum if I wanna make a fool o' myself." He grimaced faintly at a memory of one such occasion and ducked his head a little further down between his shoulders.
“Mm, nothing that comes to mind. I’m not exactly the fighting type.” He was perfect at fucking around, not so great at finding out. So he’s content to continue to praise the deity he’s chosen in the ways he knows how and hopes that despite his status as an Abandoned, it makes all the difference. And perhaps, it might make a bit more understanding for Talyson just why he hasn’t gone – with air, healing, and telekinesis at his fingertips, it certainly kept the bedroom alive.
The mojito, though, resonates with Thorn as he continues to lazily lounge about in the grasses, the magic dispersed and pale yellow petals littering his flowing and tight fitting clothes, allowing Tal the view before the courier seems to notice he’s watching him, and he sits up back on his hands, the curve of a playful smirk starting to bloom on the side of his face. “Everyone’s got a good rum story.” Gods knew he did, so he can only imagine what everyone else’s were.
But he wants to go back to those chaste looks, because Thorn is nothing if not infinitely more interested in being looked at, even if Tal seemed to be busying himself with the sails. “Would it help if I didn’t pay attention so you could get a full look?” He asks, tilting his head toward the sky as if for emphasis as his musical tones return, playful and flirty and purring, despite the fact Tal had said he had a partner. To Thorn, there was little harm in just looking. “I don’t mind. I like to be looked at.”
"Doesn't need t'be anythin' for fightin'. I mean, y'find trouble if y'go lookin' for it, but there's lots o' things that are just... useful." He lifted his arm and wriggled it so the fur-lined cuff caught the light. His needle glinted, too before he went back to work. "Got this from Nature Frey t'protect me from th'cold an'heat, so I can make deliveries t'any region, any time o'year," he said proudly. "An' my Goggles help me see in any weather an' even th'dark!" Through rain, and snow, and, well... dark of night. "So I dunno if there's somethin' that would help in, uh... in your line o' work."In the bedroom, he'd almost said, but for once managed to catch himself before letting slip something that might be misconstrued as an insult. He didn't want to imply that Thorn needed any help there!
...Except he kind of had anyways. Oops.
A little further along in the conversation, Tal just shrugged at the assurance that he wasn't the only one who regretted his rum-filled adventures. It wasn't something he was going to share with some guy he'd just met, no matter how hot he was.
But he was pretty hot, and Tal had definitely noticed. The courier flinched as Thorn's purring voice slid across the distance between them to tickle his ears, the offer one that had the back of his neck burning so hot he was afraid it might start to glow. "Uh... n-no, it's fine, you're fine, I'm... I'm fine..." The courier babbled before trailing off into a strained, awkward swallow. "I mean... you're, uh... I don't mind lookin', but I gotta... get this done afore th'weather changes," he added, jabbing the needle through the canvas in a line of stitching that was noticeably less neat and precise than before.
The comment of help in the bedroom, though, is one that has him amused as he watches Tal show off his own trinkets from the gods. And while, there are some things Thorn might have to think about in terms of what would help him out, there’s nothing that screams practicality. He works already in a space that caters to his every need. Trying to think one up would be difficult – not impossible, but it would certainly take time.
Regardless, Thorn notices the flinch and the grin that returns, the stammering and stumbling that only receives a little purred sound of a laugh. He doesn’t say much else, not initially, because he rises from his spot in the sun to drift like a ghost toward the courier, still not touching but close enough in his space that Tal could smell the vanilla and mahogany scent that encompasses him. “Let me get a little bit closer and you can take some glances as you see fit then, hm?” He ask, his voice a bit quieter and still as playful as before, but without the distance between them. “It’ll be fun.” He settles directly in Tal’s line of view but where he can look up from the stitches to spot him should he look, entirely stretching out and showing off a little.
Tal was doing his best to focus on his work, trying so hard to keep his eyes on the sail cloth and stitching that he didn't realize Thorn had moved position until the scents of Torchline, of sensuality and elegance, wrapped around his senses and that honeyed voice flirted from a much closer distance than before. The courier didn't yelp, but he did straighten up a bit, pale eyes flicking up, startled to find the handsome courtesan very nearly in arm's reach.
Brown hands curled into the canvas and he swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing as he found the other man suddenly much easier to admire, and with such a gallant invitation to do so, no less.
'I, uh... Th... thanks? Y'really don't... don't have t'do... this..." His protests stumbled along as Thorn slid right into one of the courier's fatal weaknesses that not even Alys's place in his life could completely armor him against: the attentions of an extremely attractive person who was way out of his league. "I mean, don't people usually have t'pay to... for somethin' like... like this?" Was this like a private show? Sure, all Thorn's clothes were still on, but it was still plenty hot enough to make Tal sweat!
He meets Talyson’s gaze and Thorn is nothing but exuding a proud confidence that proves he doesn’t mind any of this, even as the stuttering protest continues. “I don’t, but I want to if you want to.” He hums, slipping into the position that sets him up precisely in Tal’s view as he works on the sails, stretching out and offering a little shrug of nonchalance.
“Usually.” Thorn confirms, his voice dripping with that same quiet playfulness. “This one’s on the house.” His lips curve in that saccharine grin again, shifting to lay a bit more comfortably in the grass, only to let the clothes he wears slip up and reveal the full extent of the vines that dip below his pantline – ones that curve up his lower back into a full blooming array of flowers.
“Or maybe you can take me on a trip in the Peregrine?” He purrs the name of the boat, attention flicking back over toward the ships hull.
"..." The courier cleared his throat, giving up entirely on the sail in the face of such an onslaught of attention from someone he could no longer look away from without making an obvious retreat or risking hurt feelings. "I, uh... you're... you're very good at... at it. At lookin' good, I mean," he managed to get out, knowing damn well that he was being teased and not knowing how to deal with it when it was done with such good-natured cheerfulness.
His eyes dipped once more to the trailing vines that appeared with the shifting and stretching of the courtesan and this time he didn't manage to pull them away from the golden skin and slide of muscles. "Did... did it hurt? Gettin' those tattoos, I mean," he clarified hurriedly, lest the other man think that Tal was going to go for the cheesy 'when you fell from heaven' line.
The mention of the Peregrine finally broke the spell slightly as he shifted to glance at his ship floating serenely at anchor nearby and he hesitated, clearly torn. "I mean... she's not wearin' her sails right now but... if y'just wanted the view from a li'l ways up..."
It isn’t exactly a confirmation for the courtesan, but Thorn takes it in stride regardless – offering up all the dramatics he can when Tal boosts that ego of his, the grin spreading as a content sigh slips from parted lips. “What, this old thing?” He jests, absolutely teasing and taunting Talyson as long as he can get away with it.
And it’s a good thing the courier clarifies because Thorn certainly thinks he’s heading that direction when the mention of his tattoos is brought up, and suddenly Thorn’s focus is on the shackles of vines and thorns around his wrists, one hand moving to trace a finger along each and ever swirl of the flora. “A bit. Tattoos just hurt in general.” But there’s a toothy grin that shoots Talyson’s way when he shrugs. “I’ve had worse.” Not that he means to say it in a way that sounds sad, because it shouldn’t, but there is the distinct pale line of a scar beneath his collarbone now far more visible in the shade.
“It can be later when she’s in tip top shape, mm?” He pauses, cocking his head at the Messenger. “Wouldn’t want to wear her out.”
02-29-2024, 11:59 PM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2024, 02:56 AM by Talyson.)
"...Yeah, that... old..." Tal hesitated, realizing he really was being pulled along and he paused and gave a shake of his head as if to try and clear it from the cobwebs of Thorn's enchantment. "It's not really that old, is it?" he asked, a little more shrewdly but with a tentative grin as he set the needle down carefully, slipping it into the canvas for the moment to avoid another stab.
The tracing of tattoos was extremely distracting in the best possible way, almost throwing him back off his balance and the courier watched avidly before giving a slow nod. "Yeah... I can see that. It wasn't... wasn't from workin' in th' brothel, was it?" he asked hesitantly.
As for the Peregrine, he relaxed and nodded more firmly. "Yeah! Can do that. Leafchange, maybe? In return for th'show y'gave me today!" And his grin was broad enough to chase the clouds away.
A scoff of a laugh leaves Thorn, nodding slightly as his smile shifts a bit more amused. “It could be.” It’s yet another tease – neither a yes or a no, but he’s content to let the subject die in the face of tracing his tattoos, forgetting about half of them nearly all the time – listening to the hesitant question.
It’s one that has Thorn rolling over slightly, hands still tracing the tattoos on his wrist, shirt falling open. He doesn’t answer it right away, choosing instead to nod an agreement to the grin offered at the idea of Leafchange. Maybe he should get out and about more often.
But for the previous question? “Some was, some wasn’t.” Might as well be honest, right? It’s perhaps the most honest Thorn could be in this chance encounter, and its evident in the way his seafoam gaze focuses on himself or the hull of the ship. “I’m more careful now.” And for emphasis, the courtesan shifts, reaching out with the closeness he has to Talyson now, to gently take the hand he’d stabbed himself with by accident, his hand glowing slightly golden as he heals the minor wound.
Maybe it also meant he wasn’t as careful, but he could at the very least heal himself from whatever trouble he ended up in.
