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!
06-19-2020, 06:10 AM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2020, 09:02 AM by Nate.)
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
There's something so strange about being the level headed one in a relationship. No one has told him to think something through in a long while, and honestly? That's a reminder Nate needs sometimes.
Otherwise, he does things like leave home for the first time in weeks to search for a very specific man, in the long, deep night. And really, who isn't going to tell an angry, scarred creature of the night what he wants to know? Who isn't going to point a finger towards the ship docked in the harbour?
Even the guards sober enough to be effective aren't keen eyed enough to see the shadow slip on board, a single minded focus sharpening skills already made keener by the night. Nate slips below deck, the anatomy of a ship foreign to him, but he has luck on his side, always happy to smile on him as long as he's doing darkness.
Nate has no way of knowing if the door he stops before is the right one, but he has a good feeling, good enough that he doesn't pause his step, doesn't hesitate to throw it open, and stride in like he owns the room. Fire burns in his one good eye, the other, and the gash across his face, covered by bandages and dark hood both.
"Captain." Nate says the title like he'd rather be spitting it at Jack's feet. A hand moves behind him in an easy motion, flicking the lock on the door without looking. "Got a moment for a chat?"
Jack was down with the cannons. He was the only one on board the ship, which wasn’t too much of a surprise - with only a week until they set sail, he couldn’t blame the crew for wanting to spend as much time on shore as they could. That meant the captain was free to haunt the Ark like a ghost; Nate would find him with his back against one of the cannons and a foot propped on a crate, smoking.
Blue eyes flicked to the door a few seconds before the Ascended would enter - too late to do anything about it, but enough time to tell whether there was any immediate lethal danger. His hand already moved to his waist where he kept a knife, but he did what he could to keep relaxed as Nate stepped in. And of course he recognised Sunjata’s neck-biter - and the way he locked the door.
”Got nothin’ but moments until the sun rises,” he said, gaze flickering over the the other man’s face. ”You look like proper shit, y’know that? Now what kind of chat needs a locked door, exactly?”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
06-20-2020, 06:48 AM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2020, 09:09 AM by Nate.)
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
There's something a little disconcerting about the set up as he steps into the room, Jack, already sitting and waiting for him. It feels a little bit like set up, though Nate's certain it's not. This had been a spur of the moment choice, a boiling over of stress. Hard to prep for that, without some kind of godly foresight.
Nothing but moments 'til the sun rises, huh? Good, good. They've got some time. Nate doesn't let the thought show on his face, though the same is not said for the sneer that twists his lips at the mention of how he looks. "Excuse me for not fixing my face for this. I wasn't planning on going out."
Nate takes a step forward, slow and deliberate, though the only mes that follow bring him closer far faster, a fist thrown into Jack's jaw. He can't quite decide if it's going to be the first for the night, but it's the first for now. Reaching down, he grabs the collar of the other man's shirt and hauls him up, so they can have a real face to face conversation. "I was thinking the kind of chat that usually requires goons, but I uh," A pause, where he looks Jack up and down. "Don't think I'm going to need any help chatting at you."
There was nothing comforting about learning that this was spur of the moment. Jack kept his expression as neutral as possible, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking it out of the window and into the water below. If it had been calculated he would at least be able to know what was coming. But if the crazy neck-biter wasn’t acting rationally... he was going to have to take it as it came. And that locked door was looking more and more ominous.
”Yeah, I’m gettin’ that sort of impression,” Jack muttered, and as Nate stepped forward the captain turned to face him - and he heard it, for just a moment. The suggestion of violence, of what the Ascended was going to do.
But before he could so much as register the thoughts, it was already happening, and a fist met his jaw and he felt himself leave his perch against the cannons. Pain radiated up the side of his face, setting his ear to ringing, and the taste of iron filled his mouth. For good measure, he spat the mouthful of blood directly at Nate’s face.
”And yet,” he said, half slurring, vaguely wondering at the speed (not that his brain had quite caught up yet), ”you’re talkin’ my fuckin’ ear off, mate. Get to the point.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
A single blue eye flashes over Jack while he recovers, the upgrade in Nate's eye activating, seeking out any particularly vulnerable spots on the other man's body, anything that would cause extra pain, anything to aim for.
"See, I'm not really convinced you're listening yet." Nate reaches up to wipe the blood and spit off his face, his decision made with that charming choice. His other fist shoots out, aiming for Jack's chest, aiming to shut him up, though whether it lands where he wants or not doesn't really matter. As long as he hits something, hard.
After a few incredibly satisfying blows (gods, was there ever a face that deserved a fist in it so badly?) Nate pauses, stares hard at Jack. "Do you even know how much you fucked shit up for me?" He accuses, nearly winding up for another strike, but holding back. It's a lot harder to teach a lesson to an unconscious body.
Confusion flickered across Jack’s face, just for a second, before he mastered the expression again. (An easier feat than usual thanks to the pain in his jaw). Optical upgrade? Finding all his vulnerable spots? Now what the actual fuck did he mean by that? Oh, but Nate wasn’t convinced Jack had heard him, and more punching was happening.
Quick enough to see it coming but not nearly quick enough to move, Jack took the blow to the chest - well, diaphragm - that sent him staggering back into the crates he’d been sitting on. Winded, he hit the floor; and the rest, as they say, is history. Bruised and wheezing, with the taste of iron in his mouth and a stream of red pouring from his nose as well, the captain got his elbows under him and managed to slump back against one of the crates.
”Sunshine, I barely know who the fuck you are,” he said in a voice thick with blood. ”So no, I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue how much I fucked shit up for you. Is this it? What’d you fuckin’ want?”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
For a single savage moment, a thought is entertained in Nate's mind, a flash behind his eye. It would be easy to just get rid of Jack, to play innocent. A box, weighed down, secured tightly, dumped overboard. His hands clean, a victim of Longnight, or a drunken mistake finally taking it's toll.
From the first step, it overstays it's welcome, Nate pulling himself back into the moment, back to the reason he was here, since apparently, it wasn't obvious. Jack really was a discount version of the would be hardasses he'd dealt with before. At least they had had the decency to learn the players, to look into the consequences of their actions. Crouching down in one smooth motion, Nate stared over the other man, not breathing, not blinking. Simply chewing his words, for the moment.
"I'm here because of the raw fucking deal you foisted onto Sunjata." Nate hisses from where he's knelt. "I don't know what bullshit is rattling around your empty little head there," his hand flicks out, the back of his fingers flicking against the smugglers forehead with a snap, "but you don't have that kind of fucking power over him." Not as far as Nate was concerned, at least.
The bloody-minded thoughts from Nate were gone almost as quickly as they had appeared, but they were enough to get Jack’s attention. His real attention, sobering some of the wise-ass comments that seemed to perpetually spill from his lips. (Mostly, any way). Nate crouched down and the captain took in everything there was to take about him; the lack of breath, the speed at which he’d moved, the agility in the liquid darkness around them.
An underdog, comments like the one drifting through the Ascended’s mind had stopped stinging years ago. It was what had given him the time and space to move through the ranks as he did, and why stop now? The remarks about Sunjata, though? They bore some thinking about.
”If what you say is so true, then why did he agree to the deal?” he wondered. ”In fact, why are you the one comin’ here doin’ his dirty work, instead of him?” Spitting more blood to the floor, Jack narrowed his eyes at Nate. ”I’ll be sure to invite you along to our next business meetin’,” he assured him. ”Wasn’t aware the attack dog held the puppet strings. Next time you can come along, make sure your beau doesn’t get another raw fuckin’ deal. How’s that sound? Think he’d like that?”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
"He agreed because he's trying to play this game by the book." Nate rolls his eye, though the action doesn't quite convey everything it should with only half the necessary resources. The only answer to the second question is because he could, because he wanted to be the one to come out and do some violence, but that's not exactly something he can say. Neither is the fact that the other didn't know he'd gone out, yet. "You and I both know you're not the kind of man who plays fair though, are you?" Sunjata is a lot of things, has a lot of skills, but the ability to tell when he's being played, manipulated into a corner, is not one of them.
"I don't want an invitation Jack. In fact, I don't want to have to deal with this at all." As cathartic as it was, he was trying to move away from beating people like this, from doing the dirty work. And it could have been fine! It really could have. Nate could have, would have accepted a beating as business, as tit for tat, but oh, it hadn't ended there, had it? "Why don't you just tell your people you're too chicken shit to go and deal with whatever's in the Fingers? Huh? Let them find someone to send in your place?"
More fool him, Jack thought to himself; because Nate was right, and of course he didn’t play by the rules. Neither did the neck-biter, but hey - Jack was learning! Look, he didn’t even say any of that shit out loud! ”I didn’t make your honey Arbiter,” he pointed out, absently touching a hand to his bloody nose, to the bruises that would soon blossom along his jaw.
”If you don’t wanna have to deal with this, I suggest you take it up with your buddy the Governor,” he said. Because like it or not, Torchline operated how Torchline operated, and while there would never be anyone quite like Jack (in his not-so-humble opinion), there would always be others who served the same purpose.
Whatever pop Nate wanted to make about his reasoning behind not going into he Fingers - less that he was chicken shit and more that he was lazy, by the by - Jack could only shrug painfully up at the other man. ”Sure. Shall we stroll up to your place right now? I’ll let the Arbiter know that you made a fuss over it, an’ that I’ll take care of it after all. It’ll do his reputation wonders.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
"I could take that out on you too though, couldn't I?" Nate growls, though the fact that Sunjata was Arbiter wasn't really the issue. At least, not the issue he was currently upset about. He knew damn well who was to blame for what, "Because right now, you're the pain in my ass, and you're the guy who fucked up my week."
It's perfectly clear to Nate what the other man is doing, or at least what he seems to be doing. Deflecting blame, pointing fingers in any direction that was away from him, it was a favourite trick of his, a skill that's served him well, become so ingrained in him that he does it without thought now, but it has one fatal weakness. Nate doesn't care who's to blame big picture. Nate knows that Sunjata being beat, Sunjata going into the Fingers, that's Jack baby, and if he has to take everything else out on the man before him, he will.
He's smart enough to know when he's losing footing, when he needs to push in a different direction, and as much as Nate hates to admit it, even to himself, Jack is probably right. Torchline is the kind of place where your reputation matters, and Sunjata's has taken a dive as of late. He doesn't need another black smear. But Nate doesn't have to admit that's what he's doing either. "There's no need to change current plans." He says first, reaching out to grab Jack's jaw, to make sure the smuggler was paying very close attention. "I just don't want you giving orders to him again. You understand?"
”Look at me go, fuckin’ up your week while barely realisin’ you existed. I astound myself,” Jack muttered, his blue eyes hard as he stared expectantly up at the too-fast not-man pitching a fit over him. Luckily (for him), Nate didn’t have to want to admit it for Jack to know it anyway, and it was only that knowledge that stifled the lurch of adrenaline as the Ascended reached out and grabbed him, forcing them to lock eyes again.
”Loud and clear,” he grated out that he understood, the fingers around his jaw doing nothing for the way it throbbed out a painful rhythm in line with his heart. ”Now is there anythin’ else I can help you with since we’re locked up all cozy like? Because I was really enjoyin’ not bein’ beaten to a pulp, if you don’t mind.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
"Good boy." Nate releases the jaw and moves his hand to pat the other mans cheek condescendingly, a joyless smirk spreading over his own face. Whether they were on the same page or not, at least this way he could say he'd delivered a warning. "I've said all I wanted to." Still, he wasn't stupid enough to turn his back on Jack.
Shifting back, Nate rose up a little, then brought his head down into Jack's hard and fast, before the idea had even really formed in his head. Whether he managed to actually knock the other man out or not, he'd at least have enough time to slink out of the room, off the ship. And it's not like he can feel it, despite the wound spanning his face.
Now he just needs to figure out how to explain where he'd been, what he'd done, but that's a thought that can wait until he's in the clear, walking home.
Or maybe he wouldn’t, because the force of the sudden headbutt was enough to send him snapping back against the crates, a grunt of pain leaving him. It didn’t knock Jack out, but the captain did not deal well with head injuries, and the resulting pain left him dazed and sick, the world slipping dangerously to one side whenever he tried to focus.
All of that would give Nate plenty of opportunity to get away, because Jack wasn’t going to be getting up from this for a while. More than that, this in particular would likely have some weird and wonderful repercussions at a later time, too. Telepathy fail.
~FIN
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
