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, the wedding hadn’t gone how anyone had planned. But it was done, it was over with, and part of him – some part that had changed with Frey being there that actually wanted to put some effort into the marriage he found himself in – wanted to try and make it work. And so… For some of the things he’d said, he felt almost as if he owed Loren an apology – providing the summoner would even want to see him after.
It’s awkward, too, the added weight to his hand, the black ring adorned with waves and a large sapphire within the middle at the top. It takes an effort not to fiddle with it, to not spin it around his finger because of the enchantments, because of what the once ordinary yet beautiful rings had become. But he hopes to find the Launceleyn at the Atheneum, recalling something about the man being able to be found upon occasion here. And since he’d just been at the College for a reup on his medicine, well… Might as well.
He steps within and finds it mostly empty, walking through the pathways of books before deciding to go sit along one of the couches in the center, imagining that if Loren is here, he could likely find the man if he remained in one place.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
01-09-2020, 04:06 AM (This post was last modified: 01-09-2020, 04:06 AM by Loren.)
LOREN
Loren was there. Although he wasn’t really sure when or even if his school was ever going to open, he was still making an effort to try and figure out what subjects to teach. Which was why he had a book on math, of all things, something he knew the basics of so he could effectively manage things, but nothing further.
There were dark circles under his eyes, and his features looked hollowed out, as if he’d lost weight (which he had). Eventually, he realized that he’d read the same page over four times and still didn’t get it, so he flipped it closed with a sigh. Standing up, he gathered his things, and set to returning the stack of books he’d taken out.
When he arrived at the center of the Atheneum, however, he was surprised to see Sunjata. The summoner halted, staring at the bartender for a long moment. "I suppose congratulations are in order." Speaking with a bit of a rasp, as if the Launceleyn hadn't spoken in a while, he shifted his weight from side to side awkwardly. "Congratulations."
Ah, just like magic, the man appears. Sunjata hadn’t waited long, just happened upon a chance, and while he tries to pass the time by scouting through a small informative book on LongHeat, his gaze lifts to Loren when he spots the movement, hears the voice. Closing the book, he goes to stand – steel gaze lingering along the summoner and the weight loss, the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Thanks.” He offers at first, somewhat concerned as he nears the summoner but remains a cautious distance away.
“I suppose an apology is in order.” He begins, the edge of a smile crossing his face toward the summoner. “I’m sorry I’ve been a prick.” He refrains from fiddling with the ring despite wanting to, to adjust it, to get used to it. But he is, slowly but surely and it was certainly progress in the end. “Can I help you put those back?” Despite Loren’s raspiness to his voice from disuse, Sunjata’s own is hoarse from the sickness that still remains.
What a pair these two make. A sorry sight, really.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Loren immediately shook his head. ”No apology necessary.” The words lacked any real inflection. "You were hurting, and sick. And I shouldn't have been as...shouldn't have poked my nose where it didn't belong." Voice still monotone, he shrugged, then had to juggle the books a bit as the top part of the stack wobbled.
At Sunjata's offer, the summoner stared for a few seconds, considering the bartender. Finally, the Launceleyn nodded. He started walking again, making his way through the stacks with the ease of long practice. Stopping at one shelf, he braced the stack against the wood, then slid a book out from the center. Standing on his tiptoes precariously, he tried to return it to the very top of the bookshelf.
Much like Loren, Sunjata finds himself shaking his head too. “I haven’t been thinking right since Fiat Lux.” He admits, perhaps a bit quietly. But for what it’s worth? Even if the wedding had been awkward and strange and frankly… Weird, Phoebe and him had been trying at least. And it hadn’t really been so bad in the end, regardless of the amount of respect he’d lost from those he held close to him.
“I suppose we both need to take a step back now and then, huh?” He offers, not missing the flatness of the summoner’s voice – how the other man doesn’t quite look right. But he follows anyway, taking a few of the books off the summoner’s hands and waits until Loren pauses and tries to place a book on the top shelf. And while Loren isn’t exactly short, Sunjata steps nearer to lift it up that extra inch to try and help out. “Are you doing alright?” He asks as he goes to put the book he’d pulled out himself back where he’d found it, steel gaze sliding over to glance at the summoner as he splits apart a section within the books to place it back.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Sighing, Loren tapped a finger against the bottom book. "I know." He spoke in the barest of whispers. "I shouldn't have pushed you."
At Sunjata's observation, the summoner bit his lip. "Yeah. Well...I'm..." His voice trailed off as his eyes grew distant again. Finally, he shook his head. When he looked back at the bartender, the Launceleyn's neutral mask was back in place. "Probably a good idea."
As the other man took the book, Loren let him. Giving a grateful nod to Sunjata when he slid the volume back into place, the summoner resumed their trek through the stacks. "Define alright." Again, his tone was quiet and dulled.
“It is what it is.” He offers back to Loren’s quietest sigh, quiet admission. He doesn’t know what else to say – that they both had been right and very wrong. And that there were mistakes they both had made in the end. But he suggests taking a step back, and for a second he wonders if Loren will tell him what’s going on – but the mask is put back in place, and he frowns momentarily at that and turns his attention to the book for the top shelf and the one he had in his hand.
The question of defining alright has him sighing slightly. “I’ll take that as a no.” He admits, following Loren through the stacks to put buts back where they belonged. “I… Know we don’t always agree and we both have a bit of a fiery temper. But if you need to talk I’ll listen. You did for me with Lusea.” A slight frown at that, gaze drifting to the ring on his finger and the distance between what he thought his life would hold and what it inevitably didn’t.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
At Sunjata’s assumption, Loren just shrugged, though he was careful not to disturb the pile of books this time around. Stepping around a corner, he led them between the new set of stacks. At the bartender's offer, the summoner's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Noted." His voice came out quietly.
Coming to a stop, he tilted his head so he could double check the title of the book that was on top. Nodding, he placed the pile on the very edge of the bookshelf. Then he picked up the top book. Running his fingers down the books on the opposite side, they finally gripped a volume and shoved it slightly to one side. He slid it into place before turning around.
“Noted.” That’s all? Really? Sunjata resists the urge to sigh a crackling sound, instead he follows behind and slips around the stacks in the walk way along one of the hallways. And once they pause again, he pops it in place, turns on his heel and continues on. Sunjata doesn’t know what else to do about it, how else to get the man to open up – and it’s clear as he follows to help place books back, that Loren perhaps doesn’t want to.
Well, fair enough.
He places another book back before glancing over to the summoner. “I was going to give an offering to Safrin for the LongHeat tradition. Would you care to join me?” He asks, sliding the book into place and moving onto the next.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
As Sunjata spoke of Safrin, Loren's eyes tightened for a brief moment. However, he quickly schooled his features back into a smooth and inscrutable expression. "Why? Why me? Why bother?" Despite the neutral mask, there was less the summoner could do about his rampant emotions, so some of the despair bled through their link.
Sighing, he put the books down for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Do you really think, after everything that just happened, after her chosen demi-god lost his mind because we failed to protect the child of his that she'd blessed, do you think after all that Safrin is in the mood for our offerings? That she'll forget about LongNight, or whatever this tradition is supposed to symbolize?" His tone was weary and defeated, and he stared at the bartender blankly.
His steel gaze snaps to Loren when the question hits. There’s a bit more of the mask that he can see, but there’s that air of despair that crosses through the Attuned bond that Sunjata knows far too well – and he tries to send some understanding, some comfort in return. “Because you’re my friend.” He offers quietly, frowning ever so slightly. But Loren marches on, a tirade, and Sunjata wonders if that’s what he sounded like when the summoner had barged into the bar before the wedding.
Fracturing, fissuring, and collapsing within. He watches while Loren sets the books down and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Sunjata turns his full attention onto the summoner. And it reminds him of the conversation he’d had with Deimos when the General had made the rings. “I think that Safrin would appreciate any form of support she can get during this time.” He begins softly, contemplatively. That even though her chosen child had darkened, that there were those that still cared for the goddess, that still wanted the best of everything despite it. “And yeah, we did fail, Loren. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t try. And we tried and fought like hell.” He can’t say the same for all of them, but Loren and him had worked hard to try and fix it, to get it to move away from the Festival.
He inhales deeply, that same crackling sound. “It's not your burden to bear alone. We tried, and that has to count for something.”
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Loren let out a huff of laughter, though it sounded anything but amused. "Are we friends?" Lifting his chin, he stared challengingly up at Sunjata, studying the other man's features.
When the bartender commented that Safrin would probably welcome all their offerings, the Launceleyn's jaw muscles feathered with tension, and his fingertips briefly shifted into claws. "Somehow I doubt that. She thinks I'm an idiot." His voice was soft, but carried a quiet intensity.
As Sunjata went on to say that their efforts mattered, the summoner's eyes flashed with a cold fury. ”Well it doesn’t.” The words fell out of his lips almost in a snarl. Hands clenched into a fist, he turned and punched at the nearest shelf, ignoring the spike of pain. Instead, he just stared at his now bloody knuckles.
”Are we friends?” The question takes him a smidge off guard, and he looks over to Loren with a dark raised brow at the challenge within it. “I kind of thought we were.” He rumbles honestly, shrugging and shaking his head. “I thought you were Phoebe’s friend too.” A quieter admission, steel gaze narrowing slightly as he focuses on the summoner a bit more.
But as he comments on Safrin, the narrowing leaves briefly as the honest answer is given. The softness to his voice. “I have this assumption, that all the gods think we’re all idiots.” But if Loren wants to feel special by how much Safrin dislikes him, Sunjata won’t complain to that. Sunjata’s pretty sure that Frey considers him an idiot as well, and yet… Well, it wouldn’t particularly stop him from doing the tasks of the season, at least.
He continues on to say that their efforts did matter in the end, and Sunjata can feel the muscle clenching in his jaw at the snarl in Loren’s tone, the admission, though he sets the books down with a thud as Loren turns to punch the nearest shelf, knuckles bleeding – Sunjata’s eyes grow wide and he goes to approach the summoner. “Hey, hey.” He rumbles, trying to send as much of a calming aura as he can. “Don’t destroy the place, if you want to punch something we can go outside and go at it.” Because he understands, he’s done it before, it was how he coped with most things back in the day.
we'll break our own hearts so that someone else can't
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Loren’s nostrils flared. ”Did you now? And what, pray tell, do you think a friend is?” Tilting his head, he stared at Sunjata. ”I am. But I’m a shitty friend.” The summoner’s voice carried a chilly edge, one that matched the icy expression on his face.
However, as the bartender mentioned that the gods thought they were all idiots, the Launceleyn screwed his eyes shut. ”Then what’s the point of making these offerings? Is it going to stop them from taking more from us?” His voice was quietly despairing, and when he opened his eyes again, they had lost their angry sheen, their luster. Instead, they were dull.
Indeed, the tension had drained out of him entirely. Dropping his hand, he scooped up the rest of the books without healing himself. ”I think there’s been enough violence and destruction lately.” He resumed their steady march through the stacks.
