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!
Though they dithered and dathered, waiting until the last possible moment, Osozo made it to Torchline, possibly the last one to step through the portal.
Their last visit to Torchline had been one of strictly business, a favour done for the family, before retreating back to familiar grounds. This time though, was going to be more of an adventure. A week spent on the beach, in a place that was entirely new.
While the port itself held some allure, the sun was only just setting, and the glow along the coast was beginning to grow brighter and brighter. How could they not follow such a trail. There's no care given for their clothes, the beating waves, the few things, there is only a simple delight, a childlike wonder in walking at the edge of something so huge, something that may as well contain the galaxy for all they know.
Of course, this childlike wonder has a drawback. Osozo is so focused on the ocean, the twinkling algae, that they're not paying attention to the world around them, not really.
I had to make a last minute booze run to my cachaça dealer - they said there was something’ wrong with the press and were runnin’ behind on deliveries. A shitty time for the press to go down, but the people love it and I can charge more, so I bit the bullet and went out to the farm. The sun is goin’ down and I’m hurryin’ as best I can with a basket’a clinkin’ bottles on my back, runnin’ through a mental list of the things I still need to do when I get back.
An’ to be honest, I’m not payin’ much attention either, relyin’ on others to get out of my way as I walk with a very strong sense ofpurpose back up the coast to Haulani. There’s a noise - maybe an early firework? - that takes me by surprise. Either a firework or Apopo is at it again, so I turn my head to look up at the mountain, searching for smoke or sparks, and as a reuslt -
Boom. Collision.
It’s mostly a shoulder check, but I stumble and the carefully balanced weight’a my bag almost tips me over. I manage to catch myself, but scowl and growl at the person. “Oy, fucker. Watch where yer goin!”
Really, they should know better. They weren't able to wander willy nilly, without looking in the Grounds, it was foolish to think they could it in a place they had no familiarity with. At least it's a person they crash into, not the waiting jaws of danger, or off a traitorous cliff side. Still, the impact sends Osozo stumbling a little, their footing a little harder to recover on sand than packed earth.
Immediately, the Demi-god is enchanted by the rough voice, the rougher words. They right themself and turn, multi-coloured eyes flashing reds and purples before settling on an almost white blue. This is not quite a situation they've been in before, and it seems to take them a moment to decide on a response, lips quirking in a sharp grin, the same level of sneer not quite attainable to them yet. You weren't watching either." They point out, turning to keep their eye on stranger, wondering about her next reaction.
I’m really not sure how to answer that; though it’s the truth I’ll be damned if I let this guy with the absurd… color changing? hair try and blame me for it.
I sputter a bit, giving him a look that clearly says you’re crazy. “I was too, ‘at explodin’ sound distracted me for a hot second an’” I gesture to the sack on my back, which is clearly heavy and clinks quietly with every move. “An’ if this had broken -” I say, as if it’s the most precious cargo in the world. The threat doesn’t continue, I just leave it hanging for him to fill in on his own.
I know how I come off. And I know I should get going - but that damn hair keeps me in place, arms folded silently across my chest, scowling every so slightly.
"Distracted sounds like you weren't looking." There's the slightest smug note in the Demi-god's voice, though it doesn't show on their face, wide eyes and sharp grin painting a picture of implacable fey-like mischief, of a confidence they have only because they don't know better quite yet.
Osozo leans, almost to the point point of toppling, to try and get a good look at the clinking sack, trying to work out what was in it, mind rabbiting off in a dozen tangents, despite the obvious answer. "What if it had broken? What is it?" They don't recognize the threat for what it is without the end, and clearly she isn't moving on right away, which Osozo takes as permission to steam on ahead with questions, the blue hair shifting to a painfully bright yellow.
Like a shitty politician, I choose to ignore the challenge and brush it off. No way would I carelessly endanger my precious cargo. Because that’s what it implies - that I, a Torcher born ‘n bred, could’a a.) been easily distracted by something so simple as fireworks during LongNight and that b.) I could’a lost these much needed supplies. Both’a which are utter bullshit. Raza Ekambe is not that careless.
“I would’a lost a fuck ton’a money and maybe ‘ad a riot in my bar,” I reply dryly. The booze, the booze, everything is about booze at LongNight. “It’s cachaça.” Obviously. The only thing in the direction I came from is farms an’ everyone knows the Arula’s sugar cane business. “What’s with your hair?” Jerking my head towards his, I just come right out ‘n ask it. Since we seem to be hanging out here for a sec.
Osozo nods sagely, the picture of thoughtful understanding, though nothing could be further from the truth. ”Doesn't your bar have other alcohol?” Their head cocks to the side. ”Is the cachaça important?” The intricacies between different drinks would never quote click for them, but it was important knowledge to have regardless.
”My hair?” A hand comes up to brush through the strands, face shifting as if they’ve never before noticed the change as it shifts a garish pink. The act falls away as quickly as their hand does, a shrug replacing it. ”It changes.” As soon as the question is answered though, there’s another one falling from Osozo’s lips. ”What’s with your voice?”
I scoff. “The whole point of a bar is to ‘ave a lot of variety.” To cater to the tastes of all the patrons. Otherwise people can just drink at home. “It’s a favorite.” And yes, I suppose it’s an important part of the economy here. Anyway, I’m still irritated and need to get back, so I adjust myself carefully again and take a small step forward, ready to leave magic-haired dude behind. What kind of magic is that anyway?
Seems like a waste of time, honestly. I turn at his question, defensiveness rising. “What d’ya mean?” I say sharply, because obviously there’s nothing wrong with my voice. In fact, no one’s asked me that before. Ever.
There's a narrowing of bright eyes, Osozo's head slowly tilting the other way as they tried to work out what difference exactly the alcohol made, when the point was to get drunk and messy. But, people have preferences, and they can find no fault in the continuation, the idea that this particular precious cargo was well liked. Seems like it should have been taken care of earlier though, if that were the case, and if they didn't already feel like they were pushing their luck, they'd say it out loud.
"You say your words strangely." What else could they mean? Though it's clear the Demi-god does not expect the sudden turn, the defensiveness. And while they've encountered accents before, none have been nearly as strong as hers is, nor as interesting.
As if Caido weren’t diverse. And even more so, with portals an’ Outlanders, an’ all this other shit barreling down at ‘us, now I got someone tellin’ me I talk funny. Even if there’s no real reason for her to have an accent except that the FC does. What a fuckin’ idiot. Shaking my head slowly, I look along the beach an’ back towards Haulani. “Yeah, well, welcome to fuckin’ Torchline,” I mutter under my breath, starting to move again, intent on ignorin’ anything else the dude has to say. All the irritation seems to be funneled out through my feet as I push against the sand with every step, still annoyed, but again - there’s the cachaça. Gotta get it back to the bar afore any drunks throw a fit on Mik.
07-29-2020, 05:51 AM (This post was last modified: 07-29-2020, 05:53 AM by Osozo.)
Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Well, that was apparently the wrong thing to say. Whatever slight conversation they'd managed to earn was immediately revoked, the woman turning her back to them and moving on, in the opposite direction Osozo was headed. For a moment, they consider pressing the subject, following along after her and finishing their line of questions, but that feels too much like pressing their luck. What they might lack in social graces they make up for with good sense, and that sense tells them to watch Raza walk away, letting her slip out of view completely before continuing their own trek through the sands.
Maybe, after some time has passed, they'll go try the famed cachaça, but for now they think they'll keep their distance, get acquainted with the rest of Torchline instead.
