Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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Confirmation that Zeph had in fact seen mermaids was very exciting indeed. Sam wasn't even sure what it was that entranced him so much about the race: maybe the fact that since he'd been making books he'd been reviving old myths (at least, he'd assumed they were) and stories about them, carefully copying illustrations of intricately scaled tails.
Something about his question seemed to relax Zeph and even though Sam was still conscious of looking at anything too personal on the man's body, he turned to watch him as he spoke. With a small huff of a laugh and a roll of his eyes at first, he quickly replied: "You don't look that old." In fact, he was sure they were around the same age, even if he looked younger.
'Tame the ocean' was a wonderful turn of phrase, one that set alight every bit of Sam that yearned for good stories. "Did you seek out the city?"
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
The compliment (is it a compliment? He literally only said you don't look old. Are you reading too much into this? Is he just trying to be obligatorily polite? Rae's tits and balls, you're hopeless) leaves you rather awkwardly uncomfortable, not entirely sure how to react. "A sight older'n you at least," you rumble gruffly, painfully aware of your graying hair and the lines around your face. He's a fucking spring chicken by comparison. "What're you, twenty? Twenty-two?" A child compared to an old frog like you.
It's been a long time since you told this story, so if you're a little rusty perhaps it can be forgiven. Face still upturned to the moon, you try to remember the details, both real and fabricated for amusement's sake. "Aye, I did. See, rumor is the merfolk have a whole trove'a treasure from sunken wrecks hidden in the city. That they decorate their walls in precious stones, an' that at the heart of it all is a great silver crown that'll give whoever wears it dominion o'er the sea."
As the story unwinds you become more and more animated, like a sleeping giant come to life in increments and bursts. It clears the cobwebs of sorrow and loss from your face, revealing the faintest flickering peek into the man you used to be: a brighter man, a better man, a man who loved and loved to love.
Sam couldn't help but laugh at Zeph's guess towards his age. He knew he looked younger than he was, but it felt like eons had passed since he had been twenty two, with everything that had happened. He'd always thought when he'd looked in the mirror what he lacked in physical aging he more than made up for in the tiredness in his eyes. Maybe that was hard to see in the dark night. "I'm twenty seven. I...look young, for my age." He wasn't sure why he was hiding that he was Ascended to this man, but the words were out before he had a chance to consider it. "You cannot be that much older than me."
The smuggler's face upturned to the moon was an attractive sight and quite a romanticised way to hear a tale, the sort of framing device one might find in an old mariner's adventure book. It was quite fascinating to see the sudden change in Zeph, the man suddenly becoming someone else as the story overtook him: Sam couldn't help the smile. "And..did you see the walls? The crown?"
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
"Twenty-seven?" It's clear you only half-believe this. It's also clear that you now feel a bit self-conscious about your own obvious age. Running a hand through your hair, you scoff out something almost like a laugh and shake your head wistfully. "Gods, I don't think I ever looked that young." Stupid genetics, you might have thought, if you had any idea what those were.
At least he seems to like your story. Seems you've got a little bit of the gift still in you, old geezer or not. "I swam for hours, an' just when I thought my lungs'd give out and I couldn't swim no more I saw a glitterin' in the water, bright as stars. They were spires, taller'n Aumakua, risin' like monoliths from the bottom'a the sea." Your eyes are distant, your voice wistful up until the end.
And then you stumble and fade away, because this is the moment where you would have looked over your son's head at your wife and added: It was the second most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And El would stick her tongue out at you and Ray would beg you to go on and you would laugh, smiling at your family, and there would be no shadows in your home, not when they were there.
You're mostly shadows, now. The clouds that cleared from your bright face are swift enough to return; the glimpse into that man you used to be lost to the shell you are. Falling into pensive silence you turn back to the sea, and suddenly you look older than your years:: an old man hunched forward on the dock, worn and weary from hardship and work and shuttered against the sun.
"Twenty seven." Sam confirmed with a laugh, pushing a hand through his hair. He was a little embarrassed now; few people commented on his looks compared to his age, though he supposed it just hadn't come up much. With the smile still on his lips he leaned a little closer to Zeph. "You still haven't told me your age, and I told you mine. It's only fair." He wasn't usually so bold, but something about the man was charming and Sam felt a rush in his chest, the feeling of meeting someone you might want to, if you could be so bold (the thought of it!) flirt with them.
Hearing of the spires Sam could see them in his minds eye, let out a wondrous breath, Zeph holding him on tenterhooks for the next part of his story...that didn't come. After a moment when it became clear this was not a dramatic pause, Sam tilted his head. "...Are you...alright? You were talking about the Spires...?" Was there some kind of memory attached to the structures that he had accidentally made the man recall?
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
"Fair is a four letter word with twice as many meanings," you reply good-naturedly enough, snorting your amusement with Sam's demands that you, too, reveal your age. "How about I letcha guess, an' tell ya if you're close." You're curious to know how old you must look to someone as youthful as him, and to see how honestly he'll guess, or if he'll head straight to flattery.
Startled by his interruption into your accidental silence, you return to Sam from the far-away place you go to whenever you think of the past. Blinking rapidly you struggle to remember what you were saying, where you are. "Uh... right. Sorry. Spires." But the magic is gone, your eyes are clouded. The story has slipped away.
With a weary shrug you continue halfheartedly, feeling bad for drawing Sam in. "Didn't see anythin' past that, truth be told. I was so damn tired by that point I passed out. One'a the merfolk had to drag my sorry ass back to shore." You shrug apologetically, pulling your face into a half-smile of apology. "Not the most excitin' endin', I suppose."
"Letting me guess seems like it could be dangerous." Sam laughed, then tried to make a show of thinking it over, tapping his chin as he studied Zeph's face. Honestly, given his own ageing had stopped a while ago and a lot of people he spoke to had similar circumstances, he wasn't the best judge for this. "..Hm...I would guess you were about...between thirty five and forty, I think. Is that close?"
It was clear that after whatever thought Sam had interrupted Zeph from, he was distracted from the story. Sam politely listened to the end but was left feeling awkward at the incomplete ending. "...I see. Well, not every story has one." He tried to give the man a smile, though it was obviously a bit forced.
Wary of letting silence take over when so far it had been a good conversation, Sam twiddled his thumbs for a moment as he tried to think of something to say. "...Do...you live in Haulani? I've heard it's very nice, but I've never been there."
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
Thirty-five to forty? Oof, if that isn't a blow to your ego. You inhale sharply, clutching your hand over your heart in a playful gesture. With great fake-indignity and a wounded affect you huff back to him, "You're killin' me, Red." And yet it's not far off (son of a bitch, when did you get to be so old?), so you don't really have room to protest. You rub a thoughtful hand over your stubble, painfully aware of the salt-and-pepper scruff. "I haven't always been this ancient, y'know. Used to be young an' handsome, once upon a time."
You're feeling pretty bad at this point, not only because now El and Ray are at the front of your mind (thanks, brain) but because you were telling a nice young man an enjoyable story and now you've fucked it up. From the corner of you eye you see him flash a shadowy caricature of that winning smile, the same strained look people always give you when you get like this. It's better than pity but not by much, and it's usually followed by them peacing out.
But somehow, for whatever reason, Sam doesn't peace. Instead he sits there like the goddamn pleasant and polite child he is, trying to keep the conversation going despite you being a grumpy old man. You see the way he moves his thumbs, hear the effort in his voice. "Got a little place not far from the water," you answer simply, desperately trying not to think about how empty your home is now that you live there alone. "What's, ah, what's it like, back where you're from? I ain't been outta Torchline yet - must be a lot different, yer Hollow Ground. Is ev'ryone as young an' handsome as you?" It's a weak attempt at friendly flirting, but it's the best you can do for now.
Zeph reacted with a great amount of overacted offense and Sam froze with an awkward smile, unsure if he'd actually committed a social sin or not. "Well, was I right...?" He didn't think he could be that far off. Zeph had said he was older than himself and he didn't look to be older than 40. When the man continued to speak Sam shook his head and without thinking about it first, insisted: "You're not that old, and you're certainly handsome."
Immediately after hearing what he'd said his smile turned wide and embarrassed and then he looked down at his swinging feet, mentally chastising himself. He'd last seen Loren what, three weeks ago? He hadn't quite loved that man, not really, but he'd certainly had quite the affection for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't jump right into anything else again to himself; but this was just flirting (or at least, he thought they were flirting. He was so bad at this he wasn't entirely sure)...
Shaking himself from a long spiral about how many times the word 'handsome' needed to be exchanged for a conversation to be suggestive, he laughed quietly and pushed some hair behind his ear. "It's...I mean, I live there and I grew up there, so I'm fond of it. Outwardly, though, it's very dull in comparison to the scenery here. I mean..." Sam gestured wordlessly out to the ocean. "...We have fields and our buildings tend to be squat and small. The people...are very hardy, though. Determined, I suppose." He nodded, having found the right word.
"For a lot of my job for the council, I speak to Natural families that have lived in the Hollowed Grounds for years. They always have stories of hardships, of perseverance...there's a kind of stoicism there I don't see in other places." Realising he was rambling on a bit, Sam shook his head and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not to say people aren't strong or brave here, sorry. I don't really have much experience with anywhere else, I suppose."
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
Huffing softly, you shake your head. "Nah, but y're close. I'm... thirty-three. Thirty-four? Thereabouts." Somewhere around there, though the years have started to blend together as they pass by. And hey, apparently you are still handsome (or he's good at flattery), so you've got that going for you, which is nice.
Dull and squat and small are not words you would ever use to describe something you're fond of, but hey, whatever floats Red's boat. Nor would you describe your friends as hardy... tenacious, certainly. Intrepid, for the ones you like. Determined, sure, though mostly they're determined to be roaring drunk.
At least Sam seems pleasant enough, even if internally you've begun to paint a rather dreary picture of the Hollowed Grounds and its denizens. Shaking your head good-naturedly as he trails off, you reach over to clap him gently on the shoulder. "No harm, Red, though I'd be careful'a insultin' locals goin' on. Mosta' the cowardly lowlifes here are less honorable'n me."
You raise your eyebrow playfully, then drop your hand and turn back to the sea. "One'a these days you'll hafta come see Hualani, eh? In proper daylight, when it's bustlin' an' lively an' the streets are full'a chatter'n music. Though I can't guarantee you'll ever be able t'leave once y'do."
"You aren't sure..?" Sam asked, clearly quite bemused by that. He'd spent a lot of time alone with the weeks blending together, but he'd at least always been aware of his birthday and how old he was. "Thirty four is close enough to what I said, and besides -- it's not old. So you really must stop it with calling yourself old." Perhaps that was a bit bold to say to a stranger, but he tried to keep his tone light. Still, he'd spent enough years hitting himself with derogatory words to recognise them when he heard them.
Honestly Sam wasn't sure he was fond of the Hollowed Grounds. It was where he'd always been and he had a sort of pride in it he supposed, for continuing, for trying, but it was hardly a pleasant place to be. "I've heard. I'm..friends with the new Governor. Do you think..he's going to do a good job with the crime around here?" If Zeph really were just a dock worker, he'd think the stricter laws were a good thing, right?
"I..prefer evenings, but that does sound nice. I've never been much of a crowd person, but um..maybe I could find somewhere to sit and watch." Sam smiled weakly, still unsure why he was avoiding the topic of his being Ascended so automatically. "I'd like to observe it all, see what everyone does...write about it."
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
"Eh, it's hard t'keep straight when you don't have any reason." That, and your birthday had been sometime this season, so you're still getting the years somewhat mixed up. Though his continued insistence that you stop referring to yourself as an (accurately) old man raises some amusement in you; your eyebrows waggle playfully in response. "What's wrong with callin' myself old, eh? We're all gonna be old farts one day- even you. Might as well embrace it." You tilt your head back and turn to look at him, the almost-smile back around your eyes.
Friends with the new governor, eh? That can be useful, and the businessman in you tucks that information away for future reference. As to what you think of the job he's doing? You shrug. "Can't say much at this point. But I ain't met him proper yet, myself- what's he like?" You're genuinely curious, because this will be important to your life and livelihood. Torchline works in particular ways, and if Remi's the sort to come and attempt to shake all that up, he's not going to have a good time.
"Evenin's're nice," you agree with Sam, picturing the quiet sunsets, the people headed home to families and loved ones. "Plen'y a' quiet nooks for people watchin'. An' I wouldn' mind showin' ya a couple'a them, as long as y'promise to write only good things about me in that book."
"It's odd that you don't think it's reason enough just to know how old you are." Sam said, though he was quiet and shrugged after, supposing he likely couldn't convince Zeph to care about his age. As for himself being an 'old fart' someday...a little playfully, he shook his head and smiled. "I think I might avoid it, somehow." While for him it was a fun little joke about being Ascended, he didn't consider that might sound quite dark.
What was Remi like? Zeph didn't know it, but he'd asked a hell of a big question there. "He's...um. Well, I believe he'll be fair, as a Governor. He usually tries to do the right thing I think and he..can get a little...emotional, but I'm hardly able to criticise him on that." He didn't know how to delve into any more without getting too personal, so left it there. Perhaps if they met again, he could tell more with the appropriate, lengthy backstory.
Quiet nooks together? That definitely sounded like a flirt and Sam looked away, pressing a hand to his face to hide the flushed smile. Once he'd recovered his dignity enough he looked back and nodded. "I'd love that. Seeing the city with a real local."
You learn somehow to like the dark, even love the doubt
as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
Fair and emotional rarely go hand-in-hand, at least in your experience, but you keep your skepticism to yourself. It's late, and you have work in the morning- you hadn't planned to be out this late to begin with.
So as Sam agrees to your proposal you stand up, making sure to keep your towel secure around your waist. Stepping behind him and grabbing your bag, you chuckle softly. "Great. It's a date."
Then you turn and make your way off the dock, whistling a shanty tune.
