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 laugh was nice, but the teasing answer brought a wrinkle to Tal's nose as he looked more closely at the clothing rather than the man wearing it, trying to decide for himself if it was old or not. The problem, of course, was that the flowing clothing was layered on top of the tight clothing, which was layered over that golden, tattooed skin.
And not just tattoos. Now that he was looking closely he could see the scars, and even though the courier knew it wasn't any of his business, he asked anyway. At worst, Thorn could tell him to shove it. When the other man stayed initially quiet, Tal took it in stride and grabbed for a different topic, always happy to brag about his beloved skyboat. She wasn't exactly a passenger vessel, but he'd taken enough people between ports on it that he'd made her at least comfortable for two people to share the cozy cabin her trim little deck boasted.
He didn't expect the conversation to swing back to the scars, but when it did he looked over at the other man, brows beetling together in concern with an openness that betrayed his complete inability to win a game of poker. At least this time he caught the conversational cue that it was a subject better left un-delved, though it wasn't something he had a chance to dwell on for long. A well-manicured hand slipped out to hold his and the courier froze like an icicle in a snowstorm, blood rushing to his ears as he began to protest: "Uh, w-wait--" And then the golden glow of healing washed over his finger, soothing away the minor ache of the needle jab.
Tal blinked and stopped trying to retrieve his hand, though the blush didn't fade. "Um. Thank you. For that. It, uh... yeah. I c'n see how that comes in handy..."
There were some subjects better left to more friendly company, not that Tal couldn’t be. But they’d only just met today and despite the commonality of growing up in Halo, he keeps his secrets close to his chest. Both literally and figuratively.
He reaches up for Tal’s hand, ignoring the protest in favor for fixing his needle jabbed finger, and when the courier stops and lets him hold his hand a few moments longer, Thorn’s seafoam gaze remains locked on Tal’s face. “You’re very welcome.” He says chipperly in spite of the darker parts of the conversation.
It’s no matter, though, because his soft manicured hand slips away from Tal’s so that he might regain some amount of composure, settling back into the grass to look up at the skyboat, so incredibly casually like he isn’t just opening up his entire figure for the Messenger to look at. “I have air and telekinesis, too.” He hums thoughtfully. “Also useful in the bedroom.” He has no problem saying it, because it was his line of work after all. But he does seem to accentuate the point, helping to guide a small breeze to ruffle his hair, as if for emphasis of just how he could utilize it to accentuate what he had to offer.
At least he hadn't sent the conversation with the pretty courtesan into a downward spin. Thorn was definitely better at the whole 'socializing' thing than Tal was, and the courier gratefully let the other man's energy flow up and away from talk of scars and violence. He wasn't quite as sure about the whole hand-holding thing, but he was too grateful for the healing to protest much when it wasn't moving beyond that.
He was really glad that he hadn't made a fuss when Thorn's hand slipped away naturally. That would have made things a lot more awkward, instead of just... kind of a little awkward and mostly nice, like it was now. Though the display - intentional? Accidental? Natural? - wasn't lost on the courier, who let his pale gaze linger a few moments longer before following the other man's attention back to the Peregrine. "Ha, yeah... c'n imagine..." he murmured, trying very hard not to imagine. Thinking of Alys helped a little, and he cleared his throat as he plucked idly at a blade of grass, shortening it pinch-by-pinch. "So, uh... what d'you do for fun? Outside o' work, I mean?"
Thorn’s attention remains focused upward, seafoam eyes remaining on the hull of the Peregrine where it floats daintily above them, listening as the conversation shifted away from darker topics. He still doesn’t look back at Tal as he tilts his head this way and that, before his tongue dips out to wet his lips and he lays back again in the grasses, folding his arms behind his head.
“Mm, I like to read books.” He murmurs after a moment of thinking about it – hardly having much time to himself as it was, nowadays with the world going sideways he’s found his job more open, more time to dwell and try to cultivate more business – a proposal that continued to be driven a bit further away with every attempt. “What do you do for fun?” He asks, tilting his head slyly toward the courier, a dark brow lifting.
Books, huh? Tal's nose wrinkled up, but the idea had a lot less distaste since he'd moved in with Alys. Sure, reading for fun wasn't up his alley, but he had a better appreciation for people who did enjoy it now. He ran his recently-healed hand back through his shaggy hair and shook it back before he give up the fight against gravity and flopped down on his back in the grass, legs still covered by sail cloth as he looked up at the fluffy clouds in the blue Longheat sky.
"Me? Mostly chase my dragon around an' try t'keep her outta trouble," he shared, with a fond grin up at a particularly fluffy cloud. Off in the distance there was an ostentatious snore to counterpoint his words. "Used t'do dogsled racin', back in Halo. Built my own, an' had one o' th'best teams on th'Tundra." The boast was shamelessly proud, with not even a little humility to leaven it. The reminder of what he'd left behind, however, dampened his enthusiasm a little. "Ah... well. Now it's mostly whittlin' an' woodworkin'. Been buildin' my courier business up an' it's just... a lot. But I wouldn't trade it, y'know? Nothin' feels freer'n bein' on th'Peregrine with a followin' wind an' the world too far away t'catch me an' pull me back down."
As Thorn tilts his head to survey Tal, he finds the courier also flopped back in the grasses. It’s enough to turn the courtesan’s attention back toward the sky and the hull of the Peregrine, content to sit there a little bit longer, returning to that catlike laziness. Especially when he hears the snoring of the dragon that Tal comments on, and Thorn snorts softly in response.
“Yeah, ‘m sure.” Thorn murmurs softly. “That’s kinda why I left Halo. Dad kept roping me into shit.” A soft little laugh leaves him again, one that ends in a brief exhale of a sigh. Tal might know, given that he knows the Mercers, that Thorn’s father wasn’t exactly the nicest guy around. Headstrong and stubborn, his way or the highway. He doesn’t even know how his father fared with the damage that had come to Halo, nor had the courtesan found out. He’d cut that tie a long time ago.
At least there was plenty of light left in the day since it was Longheat, and there was no way he'd be able to concentrate on the sails like he needed to while Thorn was around. Surrendering to the inevitable, Tal let himself relax back on the grass while they chatted. The sails would still be there after the courtesan left, and as long as he got them fixed up before dark he'd be in good shape.
"Yeah..." He hadn't known the Mercers well. Or at all, really. It was more that he'd known of them, and mostly of the patriarch. Steer clear of him, had been his sisters' advice, and a young Tal had followed it until as an adult he'd occasionally needed to deliver packages to the family.
"I, uh... I kinda know what y'mean. Only it wasn't my family makin' things uncomfortable." The courier exhaled and gave a little shake of his head, firmly shoving the memories away to focus on the present moment. "But I guess we're both here now, an' makin' th'best o' it," he stated firmly. "Even if I'm gone more often'n not. Not big on stayin' in one place too long. But it's nice havin' some place t'come back to, when I'm ready."
There is some amount of comradery hearing Tal agree, something about a reiteration of just how shitty his father was that soothes some very deep part of him that constantly questions whether he’s over exaggerated all of it. He knows he hasn’t, but in the deep dark of the night when he’s alone, the thoughts creep in.
He continues to focus on the sky, watching the clouds float and disappear behind the skyboat. One of his hands lifts to run through his hair again, remaining as he kind of rubs at the side of his temple. “I can see that.” Thorn murmurs, despite not fully understanding it himself. He’d only ever wanted a place to settle down, to stick around for as long as he could before the next adventure took him away.
“I have a job where I get to make people happy. I get to do a lot more than what the family business covered.” He shrugs casually, content with his decision even if nobody else in his family seemed to be. “So fuck ‘em, I guess.” He says, breaking out of the thought with a bubble of a laugh.
The Peregrine looked oddly naked without her sails; a lady exposed, her mast and spars uncomfortably bare to the breezes that danced over the meadow and teased flowers and the hair of young men alike. Tal winced as she bobbed at ground anchor in a way that he interpreted as accusatory for taking a break from his mending, but he remained on his back, enjoying the sunshine and, rather unexpectedly, the company.
"..." Sure, Thorn was laughing, but it was hard to Tal to wrap his head around. Not entirely. He tilted his head farther back, squinting up at a speck high above that resolved into a hawk as it circled lower over the field. "Really? All of 'em?" he asked, an oddly melancholy tug at his heartstrings at how easily the other man seemed to have cut himself free of his family. 'I mean, your da's kind of an ass, sure, but... isn't there anyone back in Halo that y'miss?"
Thorn remains content in the bobbing shade of the Peregrine as he chuckles softly, letting the thought of it meld through any previous shadows in his mind, at least until Tal’s question reaches him and he closes his eyes, arms stretching out in front of him as he twists his hands a little, a pop from his wrist heard as he hums. “No, not really.” He admits. Maybe it was sad, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Thorn had just realized that blood didn’t mean family, not if they didn’t really care about what you wanted.
“Dad was the worst, of course, but mm..” Thorn trails off, eyes opening to let his seafoam gaze peer up at his still outstretched hands, before he sits up, planting them behind him as he notices the hawk. “If I wasn’t going to be in Halo, they wanted me to be a builder. Something… Respectable, I guess.” He glances over at Tal with a small smile twisting up the corner of his mouth. “They cut ties when they found out what I was really doing. Didn’t want to associate with their “whore son”.” He shrugs casually. “Sometimes I miss them, then remember how they reacted about all of it, and the feeling goes away.”
A frown tugged at Tal's mouth as he studied the sky, searching it for the answers to human ties and interactions that were so damn complicated down on the ground. He couldn't imagine cutting ties with his sisters, no matter how bad things got. But he was lucky, he knew, to have such a supportive family. There were probably limits, but he hadn't found them yet, and he'd done some spectacularly stupid shit over the years.
After the courtesan's earlier evasions the courier truly hadn't expected the honesty that flowed as the other man sat up. Tal turned his head to look up at Thorn as he spoke, hands under his head to cushion it in the comfort of the grass. A small snort escaped at the mention of being a 'builder;' a wry little noise with a bit of tired humor in it, but that wasn't the real surprise.
His nose wrinkled up in confusion and after a moment he pushed himself up, shaking his head and sending some grass pieces flying. "What's wrong with bein' a whore?" he asked, puzzled. "Were they followers o' th'Voice instead o' th'Old Gods or somethin'?" Sure, Tal wasn't comfortable with sex Frey on a personal level, but growing up in a fairly pious family meant that while brothels were intimidating, there wasn't anything wrong with what were, essentially, places of worship to one of the herald gods.
Oh, while it was perfectly fine given the gods that thrived in Caido, for Thorn’s family? Devout Safrin followers? It made all the difference. First of all, the known relationship between Ludo and Safrin weren’t the best, nor was it safe to love any other deity other than Safrin when you were within her clutches.
So Tal’s confusion, while valid, is met with a small smile, a shake of his head. “They follow Safrin. And uh, those two don’t really get along that well, especially when you don’t love Safrin as much as you should.” He explains, nose wrinkling as he shrugs. “I couldn’t devote all my love to Safrin which had been the first problem, ‘n then when I started following Frey and got this job it went downhill. I think they took it more personally than what it is.” He doesn’t know the details. Didn’t care to find out. All he knew was his father had been furious, and in turn, his mother. Even if Thorn believed it was just to keep his father from being worse.
Tal tilted his head at Thorn from where he lay in the grass, looking a little like a confused dog at hearing that someone couldn't follow Safrin and Frey. "Oh. I, uh... haven't really had a problem with that," he admitted, wondering if he should feel bad about that. "I mean, I pray t'pretty much all th'gods an' they all seem okay with it?" At least none of them had tried to smite him yet for it. He'd never tried praying to the Voice or Dygra, but otherwise he'd hit up all of them for help at one point or another.
None of the Big Ones had ever answered, of course. But that made sense. He wasn't some fancy leader or hero, after all.
He frowned, trying to put himself in the other man's shoes, and ended up levering himself up and shaking the grass out of his hair. "But... yeah. I can kinda see it. If your family had it all in their heads that way." He grimaced, running his fingers back through his scruffy mop and pulling a few extra green bits and blades from the black. "That sucks. Sorry they've been shitty about it." He chewed his lip for a moment, letting a thought percolate it's way through the complex impulses of his emotions before gruffly adding. "Look, if y'ever want to... I dunno... get t'gether for a drink an' hang out outside o' work..." He shrugged awkwardly and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I figure it'd be nice t'have someone else from Halo t'talk to, now an' again. If y'want."
Thorn can’t help the small amount of a snicker that slips from him, the shake of his head as he sighs over toward Tal. Not because of what he says isn’t valid – it absolutely is – but the fact is that he’s Accepted, and Thorn comes from a steady line of Abandoned family members that had done everything in their power to remain on Safrin’s good side, a history that stretched as far back as when the Voice had gotten her start – memories and stories laced down through the generations until him.
So he decides to elaborate – flashing Tal with a toothy and amused grin despite the subject. “You’re Accepted, though. I’m not. It’s a bit harder for us.” He rolls a shoulder before deciding that it’s probably time he heads back, and as he sits up a bit more to stand again and stretch, he lets his seafoam gaze land on Tal with a small easy shrug. It didn’t bother him that his family was shitty about it. Most days, at least.
The courtesan certainly doesn’t expect the offer, either, something that has him blinking before a curved and more playful smile blooms across his face. “Sure, Tal. That sounds nice.” He’s a little bit softer despite the sharper smile, and he tilts his head back toward the Peregrine for a moment before looking off into the distance, back toward the House of Midnight. “Well, should be getting back now. I’m gonna look forward to the trip on the Peregrine when she’s up and running.” He winks to the courier before he starts to step away, offering a little wave.
