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!
10-03-2019, 08:08 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2019, 04:43 PM by Bastien.)
they will shake their heads and wag their fingers
by daybreak we'll be gone
One could not build their guild without advertising for new members, and Bastien knew how to do that. He had had a fantastic idea one night when he was going to bed and since then had filled his mind with the image of it, sure he had to do it once he'd thought of it. Rexanna was probably sick of hearing about it by now (but by marrying him, she had fully aware stepped into a life of being enthusiastically told about art projects endlessly).
He had found a wall by the market that was depressingly plain, marked out with a paintbrush a square that reached up high and all the way across where the piece would go; he didn't paint beyond that though, because it wasn't him that would be making the art.
Or at least, not just him.
Once again he put out notices throughout the town, pinned to market stalls and walls, in guildhalls. The notice read:
People of Sanctuary!
What a year we have had and will continue to have, with Longnight around the corner. We must allow ourselves moments to breathe - so please come to breathe with me and paint a beautiful mural in the market.
Arrive at dusk, bring your best mind and any kind of imagination-inspiring substance you may possess. The Artist's Sanctuary will be using this chance to spot people for joining with our guild - if interested, speak to Bastien.
See you there!
He made sure the space was lit well; he could see in the dark but the majority of his artists would likely not be able to. With rows of paint cans, brushes and knives laid set out on the floor and he poured himself out a drink from where he had put a few bottles of alcohol out on a crate. To keep the place somewhat warm he had asked for a fire to be lit nearby, though he would have to try his best to stay far away.
Tapping the edge of his glass and smiling to himself, he wondered who would appear.
---
This PQ is open to members of the Artist's Sanctuary and those interested in joining!
There are 5 spots.
Please write with your character arriving!!
Throughout all of his adventuring in this new world, Oliver made sure to take his time. Spending as much time as he could exploring each street, each alley, and looking at all of the postings or papers that littered the walls occasionally. He had been in the marketplace searching for possibly a job or something when he took notice of a brand new posting. It mentioned art and also a possibility of joining a guild. Remi and Sunjata had mentioned that he should go out and see what each of the guilds had to offer- so why not?
When that faithful evening came along, Oliver arrived in his best clothes...which honestly weren't much. He was rewearing the jeans from when he arrived, his arrival boots, and then one of the gray sweaters provided to him by Remi. As well, the coat, also provided by Remi, was worn to help keep him warm throughout this night.
It took a bit but eventually he arrived at what seemed to be a place. Paint and tools were placed by a wall and a man not too far away. The people of this place seemed friendly enough, so if he were in the wrong place hopefully the man would be willing to steer him in the correct direction.
Walking up to the man, Oliver smiled slightly. He stopped a couple feet away and spoke up. "Hi...is this the mural painting thing?"
and all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream
you're part of a machine,
Of course, whether Bastien thought Rexanna was tired of hearing about it or not, she wasn’t. She was simply happy he still had passion for a task that he always had. And while she wasn’t particularly a good painter, she could still at least show up to help wherever she could. Along with it, she invited Clemente along, the newcomer she has yet to have meet the rest of their little Ascended family.
More specifically, her own. And if anyone should know, likely her husband should.
So she brings Clemente out into the night, swift along the streets until she meets the meet up place. And without a bit of warning, she spots the other man who’s already arrived. She hasn’t seen him before, but she gives him a wide fanged smile of greeting, before she slips over to Bastien’s side and steps on her tip toes to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it.” She says lightly by way of greeting, before she gives her husband space, going to stand somewhere in between the painter and Oliver, before shooting Clemente an encouraging glance and smile.
Clem isn't exactly familiar with art. It had never had a place in his life, moving from poverty to homelessness as he had. Graffiti and city sculptures were the only things he'd ever known, so when Rexanna had mentioned a gathering for artists, Clemente had declined immediately. Of course curiosity had taken over eventually, not just about art but about the man Rexanna had informed him would be leading the gathering. Her husband.
Clem isn't unhappy at the idea of meeting him, but terrified? Oh, absolutely. Which means he kinda has to go, because Clem's reaction to fear was generally to face it head on like an idiot. A self-destructive part of him whispers that if Bastien doesn't like him, it will only hasten the destruction of this tentative, hopeful new life Rexanna has offered him. The one that Clemente has no idea how to handle, the one that scares him more than Bastien's disapproval or Rexanna's abandonment ever could. Because he doesn't know how to be whole, how to live this life Rexanna tells him he could have, and it's terrifying. This world is nothing like his own, and he doesn't think he'll ever really fit in.
But he ends up here anyway, hunched as small as his tall frame will let him, pale green eyes darting around nervously. Rexanna goes to greet Bastien, leaning on her toes to kiss him, and Clem glances away. There's one other boy - still young, but older than Clemente. He seems harmless enough, so the teenager stands uncomfortably between him and Rexanna, fingers fidgeting nervously with the bracelet Rexanna had made him. Her encouraging smile brings a grimace of one to his own face, trying to hide the terror in his eyes and the discomfort twitching along his shoulders, urging him to run like hell at the first sign of danger. "H-Hi," he says uselessly towards Bastien, holdings his arms close to his chest, unwilling to lift one to even wave. His gaze falls to the supplies instead, curiosity clear on his expressive face as he drifts towards them unconsciously. Now his fingers twitch for an entirely different reason, wanting to play with these new materials but hesitating, waiting for the go-ahead.
Painting a mural sounded like Amun’s idea of a good time. Plus, this Artist’s Guild—Artist’s Sanctuary? honestly he wasn’t quite sure, but the operative word was artist—sounded like his kind of people. While he usually only painted the pots that he’d made, or, well, used to make considering he didn’t have a wheel or a kiln or a studio, he figured the skills were transferable to other mediums. And he was perfectly happy to find out.
As he arrived at the spot, he saw that these were indeed his people, at least in part, and in some good ways and some bad ones. Bastien was there, which wasn’t surprising given it had been his name on the notice that the potter had seen; other than that, Oliver was there, which caused Amun to smirk. The two of them had a good time together, at least for a while, and he made sure to come up behind the blonde-haired man to whisper in his ear. ”Hey Blondie. Didja miss me?” Then the potter moved on, giving Bastien a grin. ”Thanks for the invite, handsome.”
However, there was one member of their party that gave him pause: it was the blue-eyed woman whom he’d abandoned to the big tree. Honestly, he hadn’t known if she survived or not, though he was happy she had. He wouldn't have been able to deal with the guilt, and he still flashed back to the man who'd been impaled and had died.
Hesitating for just a moment, Amun finally caved and went over to her. This time, when he whispered it was without any trace of flirtation or playfulness. ”Hey. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for leaving you in the woods. I know you must think I’m terrible, but I’m new to this world, and I’m not a fighter and I didn’t even know why or what or who we were fighting. And I'm glad to see you made it out unscathed, despite my cowardice.” Better to ask forgiveness than permission and all that, though he wouldn’t have blamed her for never wanting to see him again.
There was another person there, a man (well, a boy, really) that Amun didn't know. However, he figured he needed to clear the air with blue eyes first, in case she reacted poorly to his presence.
Well well well, what a fine collection of specimens this is. You'd expected nothing less from a party of Bastien's invention, of course, but it's still nice to see the lot of them gathered around looking like a page out of a modeling catalog. Two of them are familiar, three of them aren't, and you take a moment to drink each in visually, trying to get a feel for the lot through clothes and appearance alone. A baby, a pretty blonde, an even prettier brunette, the lovely Gilded Queen, and of course your host, looking ravishing as always. Such a shame he's married now, though if they ever want to open things up... well, the offer stands.
In fact. You wink to Rexanna as you pass her, not interrupting her apparently very serious conversation with Mr. Man before flouncing over to your host, wrapping your arms over his shoulders in a brief and playful hug. A little forward, maybe but boy's dick has been in your ass, this hardly seems inappropriate. "Congratulations on the nuptials, darling," you purr against his ear. "Though don't forget- adding playthings can help keep the marriage bed spicy."
Before it can become quite too much you slide a slightly more comfortable distance away, though your easy grin remains as you wait for instructions, assuming, of course, you will be asked to model- a task you often carried out with gusto, back home.
The first to approach him was a young man who asked him quietly if this was the 'mural painting thing'. Bastien laughed, looking to the wall next to him then the paint besides him. "Yes, it is indeed. If you would like to help, you are welcome. Could I have the honour of knowing my collaborators name..?"
He did not need to ask the name of his next attendant; Bastien wrapped an arm around Rexanna's waist and gave her a quick squeeze. "It would be awfully lacking without your touch, cara." She looked towards someone, a boy she had brought with her; the poor lad seemed absolutely terrified. Bastien had never been prone to shyness and struggled to understand it, but he was by nature kind, so he waved and smiled.
"Hello. It is good to see young people have interest in our guild - they are the lifeblood of art, after all. And what will you be signing your name as?" Bastien had known the youth of Venice well, had known what they liked and what was in their minds to paint; in Caido they were a mystery. It was an unexpected element, the best kind of thing for electric art, and he was thrilled to see it.
Amun arrived next - Bastien smiled warmly but watched carefully as he went to speak to Rexanna, noticing something off in the man's body language. He did not catch all of the words, but he heard 'woods' and 'fighting' and grasped it was probably something to do with the attack on the Mathair that Rexanna had told him about; for the moment he left it alone but he thought to ask her about it later.
Ezra's arms around him and a purring whisper by his ear demanded more immediate attention, anyway. Bastien laughed and looked at him sideways, tilted his head from side to side. "You will be top of the list, my friend, if we ever search for..ah, playthings." For the foreseeable future though, he was more than content with Rexanna - how could he not be? With the Deepfrost moonlight and the orange flames casting their light on her face, she practically glowed.
Why even bother making art, when the most beautiful thing in the world was before him?
But he had brought them here to create, so he would. Looking to each in turn, he smiled and clapped his hands together. "Thank you for coming, friends. I do not think I will be telling you anything new with the fact that the last months have been difficult, as times always seem to be here. And with Longnight coming...they shall continue to be." Bastien had always been good at dramatics, his voice solemn and his eyes dark as he spoke to them as if delivering a sermon.
"There are a few forms of relief you can find in these kinds of times--" He lifted his glass and drained it, put it down with a wink and a smile. "--but the most successful and least harmful is art. So I propose we place some of that wonderful remedy here, for our own hearts and for the eyes of the people in the market."
He gestured out before him, where five different paint buckets were available. "Each of you should be able to develop in your own space. Choose for yourself a colour and think of a theme, something to inspire and move us all in this time of desperation. Though do not worry if inspiration is lacking - even the most simple, intuitive of pieces can lift spirits."
For himself, he took a can of red paint from the drinks table (he was the leader, he got to have first colour pick) and marked out a red square, roughly 3 by 3 feet. "This is the sort of space you should mark out for yourself. Well, let us begin! I can hardly wait. I think I shall paint the newfound joy I have found in the ideas of commitment. A return to traditionalism, of sorts. In fact, it reminds me of..."
---
Bastien is going to be rambling on forever, so choose a colour and a theme for your section of the mural!
Your options are: Purple, Blue, Green, Silver or Yellow
and all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream
you're part of a machine,
Clemente is as awkward as ever, and the Penumbra feels for him in this strange new get together. But she’s immensely surprised at the amount of Ascended’s that show up, quietly pleased as well. And as she kisses Bastien’s cheek and he squeezes her, she focuses her gaze and introduction of Clemente beside his awkward hello. “This is Clemente! He’s a new arrival.” She explains to Bastien, leaning in for a brief moment to speak quieter to him. “I found him at the Spire and have taken him in… He’s young.” A bit of a rushed explanation, but she gives her husband a bright smile before moving closer to Clemente.
And that’s when Amun appears, and speaks to her with far less of the bravado that he had greeted the pale haired man with. “Apology accepted.” She tells him lightly before she tilts her head toward him, an almost sharp smile crossing her face. “But it’s not me you’ll have to answer to.” A small admission, but Rexanna knows the Wraith is not pleased with the outcome. And while they had been successful, well… They might not have. One memory of Lucas coming distinctly to mind.
Ezra appears next and Rexanna gives the man a knowing glance, a playful smile to her face before she focuses on Bastien’s instructions and babbling, watching as Clemente peruses the items at their disposal. And while this goes on, she looks over to Bastien with mock hurt. “I’m hurt there’s no gold, Bastien.” She says dramatically, picking up the yellow with a playful look to her face. “But I suppose yellow will do.”
Looking over to Clemente, she waits to see what color he picks before she marks out her space and gets started. For good measure, a friendly smile is sent Oliver’s way as well.
So that's a no, eh? Shame, bit you can't say you expected different. Monogamy and love has its appeal, you can't deny that. Why, once upon a time you might have even-
Ah, no. Nope nope nope, hard pass on those thoughts, please and thanks. Ain't nobody got time to write that moody, broody shit up.
Besides, there's art to be done. Squares to paint, or something. The colors offered are a quite lovely, but one in particular catches your eye. With a great deal more fervor than is perhaps justified you snatch up the purple, practically purring at the rich, gorgeous color.
Finding a nice blank spot on the wall, you begin to sketch out your sorta-square. Really more of a trapezoid with a wiggly outline, but hey, nothing about you has ever been straight; why would you ever change that now?
Amun was relieved to hear that woman held no ill will towards him for his actions in the forest. However, he knew exactly what she meant when she said that she was not the one the potter would have to answer to. ”I’ll deal with Wessex when I see her. As for you, Blue, I’m glad your back made it through without me to watch it. After all, it’s such a nice back and it would be a shame if something happened to it.” He leaned over to give her ass an approving look. Maybe that was too far, under the circumstances, but Amun couldn’t stay serious for too long, and the playfulness was second nature to him. Just because he wasn’t attracted to women didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate their beauty.
On the subject of attraction and beauty, the potter perked up at the last arrival. Whoever it was, they were pretty, plain and simple. Amun watched with eager eyes as the last member of their party threw an arm over Bastien and offered to be a plaything. The potter grinned at the sight and found his feet carrying him closer to the stranger as Bastien explained what they were doing there (though if pressed, the potter would’ve commented that art was not his preferred way to find some relief). Seemed simple enough to Amun
Blue and the stranger picked their colors after Bastien, and the potter mulled over what was remaining. Of course, there’d never really been a choice; he plucked up the can of silver paint, then meandered over to the stranger. Setting it down, Amun didn’t bother with a brush, simply dipped his hand in and lifted dripping fingers to the wall. As he traced a circle—Bastien would quickly discover that the potter didn’t really listen to orders or instructions—Amun dropped his voice to a flirty whisper. ”Hey Gorgeous. I heard you were looking for playthings.” Again, art wasn’t his preferred form of relief. But maybe the potter could get some relief through this art anyway.
10-04-2019, 10:20 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2019, 10:21 PM by Clemente.)
plot twist twistin' my heart 'til it's hollow
band-aids for all my scraped knees
Bastien's smile is warm, like Rexanna's, but Clem can't help how he folds beneath his gaze and the towering stature he has, keeping close to Rexanna's side. At least his kindness is enough to draw a lopsided, fanged smile from the boy, relieved that Rexanna takes over introductions because frankly he feels entirely out of his element. Though clearly half the others aren't, approaching the Penumbra for various conversations that Clem is happy to ignore. He knows when to give privacy to the adults, doesn't really care about what they're talking about anyway. Apologies are boring.
Until one of the men leans forward intentionally, and Clemente steps forward to aggressively conceal Rexanna's backside when Amun goes to eye it. He may not know what they're speaking of, but Clem used to be a hooker, and he knows a leer when he sees it. All previous unease dissipates beneath his suddenly prickly exterior, cheeks half-puffed and arms crossed. "This is a painting gathering, not an orgy bucko, keep your eyes to yourself," he hisses quietly, like a cross kitten, not wanting to draw further attention but feeling like he needs to protect Rexanna nonetheless. She's a married woman, and he is already growing very attached to her, and she doesn't deserve to be ogled like that. At least, not in Clem's opinion. He doesn't exactly have a good history with "good consensual sex", so Rexanna's thoughts on the matter don't really compute. He just feels overprotective, and this dude has hit his shitlist faster than a cheetah on cocaine.
Luckily they all disperse after that, Clemente's hackles smoothing down to his normal nervous grumpiness. Bastien is talking like, a lot, and Clem kinda tunes him out after the first few sentences. Blah blah blah paint. The boy is far more enamored with that idea. He swoops down on the blue, immediately going to the fringes of the space and staring in awe at the liquid in the bucket. At first he's scared to dip the brush in, does so tentatively and makes a few curious swipes. From there it's like the entire world fades away, and the image comes to life in his mind, unafraid of mistakes or failure with this material he has never encountered before.
10-05-2019, 02:42 AM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2019, 03:01 AM by Oliver.)
OLIVER
The man before him quickly confirmed Oliver's question and he flashed the man a smile. "Perfect. My name is Oliver." Oliver couldn't remember whether or not he had a past with art or painting, but this seemed like a nice way to relax. He had quite a lot of stress ever since arriving and any moment he had to genuinely relax was great. Knowing that he could leave something that could last for years felt great, leaving him to forget about his possible inability to do art.
Soon enough, more people started to filter in. A woman appeared who immediately walked up to the man before him. It didn't take a genius to realize that the two were an item. It was cute. With the woman came a young-ish boy. He seemed very nervous and extremely scared. Oliver would have to speak with him when they started work, get the kid to open up a small bit.
Since he was very distracted, he didn't even notice the arrival of the next individual until he heard a voice right in his ear. Snapping his head forward, his eyes widened slightly in...surprise? Embarrassment? "Depends on if you missed me..." He spoke quietly, hoping that nobody would take notice of their weird relationship they had going on.
Trying to distract himself, he started to look over at the tools and paint, basically zoning out and ignoring anything that Amun had been saying to the unnamed woman.
He actually did happen to notice the last person to arrive. This person only confirmed Oliver's beliefs about the relationship between the two, but of course there was a flirt involved. The flirty unnamed man was gorgeous, abso-fucking-lutely...but Oliver wasn't exactly about to get into another alcove with a person with only knowing their name. Amun was a special case. He'd just have to take his time next time.
Bastien started to speak up, addressing the group. Oliver had heard bits and pieces of what had occurred over the last few months. It didn't sound good, not in the slightest. His worries about his inability to do art were relieved from his shoulders as Bastien mentioned that it could even be simple art. Surprisingly, he had ideas for the theme given. It may not be original nor hold as many memories as some of the others, but he could still try his best.
Oliver chose to let everyone else pick their colors first. He felt as though his ideas could work with any of the colors and so, once everyone had chosen, he walked over to grab the remaining green paint. It'd work, absolutely.
Walking over to the wall, he first started with the square, trying to make it look as nice as possible. As he did so, he absolutely picked up on the flirt coming from Amun towards the unnamed flirty man. Of course. Flirting with another person right when the man you just gave a handjob to is right there. Fantastic.
It made Oliver's face redden. He didn't expect anything more than that, but he still felt hurt? Jealous? Possibly both. He wasn't a fan of how the comment made him feel and so, he tried his best to merely shove all that negative energy away. Tonight was going to be a fun night of painting, not letting a dude who touched his dick twist his emotions.
Tapping his fingers along the wall he thought on his theme and how to convey it. He had chosen life or new life to be more specific. Something like that. There was one thing he absolutely knew that he wanted to draw, it was calling to him. But before then, he'd wait a small bit and watch what each of the other individuals would begin to do.
Hopefully someone would want to talk to him other than Amun....right? Oliver picked the remaining paint, Green!
Rexanna's quiet explanation caused Bastien to frown at her, clearly rather confused and alarmed - was he not to be consulted when they took in children? While this was not the place to have the conversation, he knew it would have to come up; they had not argued much if it all in the past, but this couldn't continue. An old daughter, a sister, and now a new son? Rexanna practically bled family members.
But she is still his wife and the words can wait, so he laughs and shakes his head at her comment on the lack of gold. "If I gave you gold every time, your art would never grow." Though really, he was sure whatever she produced with her hands, metallic or not, would always amaze him. Though it seemed her hands were not what other people in the group were occupied with - he raised his eyebrows at the boy she had taken in swooping in to defend her buttocks. "If Rexanna is uncomfortable with the man's comment, I am sure she will let him know herself." He assured him, though he did look up to Rexanna and mouth 'are you alright?', just in case Clem had picked up on something he hadn't.
Everyone took to the task well - There seemed to be less themes and more just simple colours, for the moment, but he didn't mind. He was secretly delighted at the deviations from his instructions like Ezra's shape or Amun's finger-painted circle; how wondrously unpredictable. For a while he worked on his own piece and left them all in peace (ha) to create on their own.
But there was a reason this was a group activity and not a solo studio painting. When he decided they had all had enough time, he stepped back and addressed them all: "Now, for a little mix up. Take your paint and move to your right - add something to the shape and image painted before you."
Bastien, moving to Rexanna's, smiled at the bright yellow reflecting her friendly nature. One had to be careful with red and yellow they did not make a circus-tent, but he was confident enough in his abilities to work with the colours, finding some parts where the yellow was still wet and using it to blend in oranges to the swirling pattern he began to create, tall stalks that bent in on themselves and intertwined crawling up the wall.
----
Move one space to the right and add to that persons painting!
(So for example, Bastien will move to Rexannas, she will move to Oliver, etc)
and all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream
you're part of a machine,
“Blue?!” She snorts at the nickname, glancing to Amun as he very obviously looks around her to her ‘back’. And before she can say anything, Clemente is there, hackles raised and protective, and she passes it off easily — reaching out for the young boy with a hand to his shoulder. Bastien’s voice reaches her next and she gives him a bright smile of response, undeterred by Amun’s statement. After all, she’s heard much worse said about her. Rexanna leans toward Clemente then with a crooked fanged smile. “It’s alright Clem. We don’t waste breath on deserters.” She gives him a light wink, before a somewhat hardened one toward Amun, before they’re moving onto the painting.
She approves of Clemente’s choice of color, and as she marks her swirls and filigree on the wall in the yellow hues, Bastien changes the game. She gives Clemente a light wink before moving toward Oliver’s section. “Hey, I’m Rexanna. Didn’t get to introduce myself before.” She offers as she gives him a fanged smile of greeting, bringing her yellow paint over to add to Oliver’s green. Based off his ideas, she adds a few swaths of yellow to be petals of flowers of sorts, a sun in the corner that she so dearly misses, as well. A few other things to add to the hues, to the idea, and she steps back to survey it, waiting for more instruction — somehow managing to get some yellow on her cheekbone.
