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, d-do you?" Sam asked, laughing, though a little worried Zeph was stalling for time to find a way to gently tell him he was a terrible dancer. There was no answer, just the slightest touch of hands on his shoulders; before he could even really react to it it was gone, Zeph apparently changing his mind. Perhaps it was a dance move?
What was a dance move and certainly one he didn't expect was the sudden spin: Sam went with it, though his footing was a little awkward; he let his eyes follow where Zeph had pointed him, at first expecting to see some kind of judges panel (that was a thing at casual parties, right?). Instead, he saw a man, handsome and clearly interested in something, looking his way.
Letting out an embarrassed, high-pitched laugh as he shook his head, Sam made sure not to make eye contact with his admirer as he turned back to Zeph, firmly grabbing the man's hands and placing them on his shoulders again, hoping to send the message not available out to anyone that might be wondering..though he was sure it was a misunderstanding. "No one wa-wants me like tha-that, Zeph. He was pro-probably looking at you. I'm j..just me, and..." He shrugged, assuming it would be obvious.
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
You chuckle again at Sam's reaction, though part of you is strangely pleased to seem him reject the attention. The reason, though... that's another thing entirely. Behind Sam the man gives you a look that clearly asks what's up with that?, to which you simply shrug. 'He's shy' you mouth back silently, before looking back down at Sam.
"And... what? You gonna parrot back another shit lie someone else told ya?" Gently you let your thumb caress his collar before adjusting your hands. The music has slowed, and you settle into it, settling fingers lightly on his waist and shrugging his up onto your shoulders. He fits so neatly there before you, so fragile and so broken and not yours to fix.
And yet.
You look from the slow moving crowd to the man before you, searching in his eyes. You want to say something, anything, but your tongue feels like lead; everything is pithy, inadequate in your mind. How do you tell him all that you see when you look at him, if he doesn't see any of it himself? How do you make him know how you feel about him, without him seeing it as a lifeline you aren't equipped to provide?
"Tell me one reason why someone would wanna dance with you, Red." The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, not cruel at all but kind and pressing, urging him to try. "One thing. That's it. Sure y'can find that."
Thankfully for Sam he didn't notice the silent conversation that occurred between Zeph and the man on the edge of the crowd: if he had, he might have had to flee the scene from sheer embarrassment. As it was, he could contently pretend that no one had noticed his presence but Zeph, who seemed to immediately take him back despite being the one to turn him around in the first place.
Hands moved to his waist and Sam looked down, a small smile on his lips at the contact. Zeph's hands felt good: strong and big, there to protect and hold. He'd made a resolution to stand on his own two feet and he'd meant it, but there was something incredibly rewarding in feeling that he was being looked after. "I..I mean..." He began, about to argue they weren't lies, but he could already see how well that might go down with Zeph. Instead he moved his arms up to his shoulders and rested them there, looping his fingers around the back of Zeph's neck.
It was nice to just exist with someone else like this, Sam thought, as he looked up into Zeph's eyes. They were such a lovely colour, warm and inviting; of course the view was somewhat marred for the moment, but he could at least see that the wound was healing. He was about to reach up to gently touch the scar, comment on it, when he was issued a challenge. "Um..." For a second, the part of him that could make jokes and wasn't completely broken thought to say well, you said that thing about my ass-- but Sam had buried that part of himself almost entirely over the years.
"..B...because..." He looked back up into Zeph's eyes. "He ca-cares about me and...w..wants to see me have a g-good time, because he kn-knows how to make me com-comfortable."
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
He's talking about you again, and you know it. You snort derisively at Sam's attempt at deflection, shaking your head and trying desperately to separate yourself, to not give in. You aren't an angel, you aren't a saint. You aren't anybody's hero. "That's what any decent'd bloke'd do," you reply gruffly, pointedly not meeting Sam's eyes but very slightly trying to step back, to widen the space between you.
"Y'ain't gettin' out that easy, anyway." Again you turn back down to him, staring into the traps of those eyes and willing yourself not to succumb. "Y'know what I meant. Why'd someone wanna dance with you? Care about you?" There has to be something positive he can find about himself. Nobody is that broken inside. Not even him.
Zeph apparently saw right through his attempt at taking the attention off himself and Sam shook his head slightly to the notion that anyone would do it, but let Zeph take his space. "A lo-lot don't." He said quietly, thinking of the string of failed relationships he had behind him (some of them admittedly his own fault, but there was blame to share).
They were moving surprisingly fluidly with the distraction of conversation between them. Sam found that he barely even noticed the dancers around them anymore; laughing and rolling his eyes as Zeph chided him, he made a show of obligingly thinking about it again.
"Well...I th-think I'm qui..te clever." The words almost sounded like a question, as if he was asking Zeph for approval of that statement, but he swallowed and kept going. "And...and I-I've been told I have n..nice eyes. I don't know abo-about that one. What do you th...think?" To give Zeph a chance to study them, Sam opened his eyes wide and looked up at his dancing partner, feet carrying the dance slightly awkwardly but well enough beneath them.
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Finally he gives you something, reticent and insecure though it might be. It feels good to hear him say it, strangely gratifying for you - as though you inexplicably had something to do with his cleverness, instead of being a brand new, virtually meaningless fixture in his life.
The second point - a two for one, clever boy indeed - catches you a little off guard. Shit, had he seen you looking? Does he somehow know? Blushing a little, you shrug awkwardly and roll your own eyes, a smile playing at your lips. "They're a'ite, I s'pose." Teasing, playful, desperate to ease the beating of your heart. "But fishin' for compliments? That's cheatin', you lolo."
It is clever, though. You gotta give him that.
"A'ite. What else?" The music is picking up again, a small mercy you'll gladly accept. It gives you an excuse to widen the gap between your body and his, to return the focus to dancing instead of staring dreamily at his eyes. Dropping your hands back to yourself, you begin to move along with the escalating beat, stepping behind Sam and jerking your head to the crowd. "What else ya got, that someone out there'd like?"
"I'm not fi-fishing. You told m...mmm..me to say something." Sam teased back, a little disappointed with the answer of 'a'ite' but suspecting that it did not actually speak to Zeph's true opinion: of course, he had no concrete reason to believe this (it was in fact a much bolder assumption than he often allowed himself) but he had seen the way that his host had been looking at him throughout the night.
It was nice to hope, anyway.
Disappointed in the sudden distance between them, Sam considered not giving Zeph a second answer, but he found himself actually enjoying this conversation as embarrassing as it as: it was a chance to have Zeph assess him, notice him. As Zeph went behind him he glanced around, slowly raising his arms and swaying a way he saw a woman on the edge of the crowd doing: he was sure it looked much better on her, but it was fun enough to try and at this point he was sure that he could not look any more embarrassing than the rapidly very drunk people in the dance. "I su-suppose I have an alright...b...body. I...I mean, I ha-have a lot of freckles, but..."
Turning to face Zeph, he looked down at himself for a moment before turning his head back up: he didn't quite dare to ask for an opinion on this comment, but he was clearly looking for one. "...I'm qui..quite slim and som-sometimes I've seen my reflection and I th...think I look okay. Um, you kn-know. Without..uh...without clothes." Suddenly far more embarrassed than he thought he'd be with the words out in the open, Sam's eyes looked anywhere but Zeph.
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Aw sweet fucking Safrin's cunt, there's no way he doesn't know what he's doing. So much for the innocence you thought he embodied: lad's a proper little minx. At least he isn't looking at you, because the expression that crosses your face can only be described as a sort of comic anguish, exasperation mixing with desire as your mouth draws into a thin line and your eyes roll closed for a moment. Gods give you strength.
What're you supposed to say to that? He probably does, and you won't lie and say you haven't imagined it. Wondered how far the freckles go, if the curtains match the drapes, if his ass is as pert and grabable as his absolutely ridiculous trousers make them look. And if things had been different, if he'd been someone else, you might have taken this golden opportunity to find out the answers to all those questions. You're stoic and jaded, but you're human too, and it's fucking hard to turn down everything being offered.
But all your relationships since El have been no-strings-attached, and something tells you that Sam comes tangled up in a whole mess of different threads.
"Maybe you oughta find out how many of 'em agree." You step back with this statement, running a hand through your hair, suddenly desperate to get away. "Gonna grab a drink," you mutter, turning to walk toward the refreshment table. To find somewhere quiet away from the temptation of sinking into your baser instincts and dragging him down with you. It isn't what he needs. It isn't what you need.
Even if, at this moment, it's exactly what you want.
Zeph, once again, expertly dodged Sam's blatant and awkward attempts at flirtation; honestly given how embarrassed he'd been when the last words had left his mouth, Sam supposed it might not be an entirely bad thing. He nodded as Zeph went to go get a drink, watched him walked off for a moment; his instinct was to stand awkwardly at the edge and not move when he was on his own, but he actually found himself not wanting to do that.
He didn't know if it was the atmosphere of Torchline or something that had changed in himself, but as the beats of the next song began to play, he began to dance again. While it was on his mind that he likely looked stupid, he tried to push past that. Putting to use what little he'd learnt from Zeph he tried to be sure to move fluidly, to move his hips, not just awkwardly stick his limbs out in a stiff movement.
Suddenly, there was a presence behind him, closer than the other dancers: Sam turned, expecting to see Zeph, but instead was greeted with the face of a man about his own age, tall and certainly handsome; he let out a shy laugh as they began to dance together, large hands coming to rest on his waist. The music built up and up into a crescendo of excited melodies and his partner in a climatic moment lifted him up and spun him, something so attention grabbing he would have hated it normally, but in the spell of the party and the dance, it was magical: laughing his first real, genuine laugh of happiness in a long time, Sam gently touched back down on the ground.
One hand still on the strangers shoulder, he looked around as the music faded and the moment left; with the remnants of the grin on his face he spotted Zeph on the edge of the crowd and gave him a small wave with his fingers, embarrassment and a small sense of pride coming over him at once.
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
He doesn't follow when you leave, which is a small mercy. Not really sure how else to handle the current situation you make your retreat to the edge of the gathering unhindered, grab a shot of whiskey from the bartender, and knock the whole thing back.
If you're going to be a confused idiot, you might as well do it while drunk.
You find a place beside a nearby building, leaning gratefully into the wood. The shot has been replaced by a cup of something strong and fruity; you sip it thoughtfully and try to keep your eyes from drifting back to Sam. Try and fail: you find him easily, the red hair and absurd coat as obvious as a rainbow. He's found a new dance partner and he looks fuckin' happy - and you're glad to see it, you really are, even if a small traitor voice is pointing out that it could have been you.
You return his wave, smiling crookedly with something not unlike bittersweet pride. You'd wanted him to see he doesn't need you, but damnit if it hadn't felt a little good to be needed. You're not what he needs, though: he needs this, fun without inhibition, to be appreciated and enjoyed without any strings attached.
As you sip your drink a woman slides up to you, a black haired local wearing shockingly little who you've met once or twice again. 'Care to dance, Zeph?' she asks in a voice like caramel. And for a moment you seriously consider it, because it would be fun and a great way to distract yourself, to blow off some steam-
"Nah." You turn from her pout to look back at the dancers, wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life.
The beginning of another song started and Sam's new companion brushed his fingers against his palm; Sam looked back with a smile on his lips, but shook his head. The man was nice, handsome, but...without the patch from Remi he had no impulse to pursue sex without meaning and his heart, ever quick to attach itself, was firmly Zeph's for the moment. Mouthing 'sorry', he squeezed his hand then stepped away from the floor, still giddly grinning over the whole experience.
He saw, just as he began to walk to Zeph, a woman walking away from him: Sam glanced after her, wondering if he'd just interrupted some kind of a moment, but decided not to ask about it. After all, they were only friends. Incredibly awkward and attracted to each other friends.
Standing next to Zeph and looking out over the dancers, he said: "...I...di-didn't think I'd have this much ff-fun. Thank you, fo...for making me come out. Um..I wish I co-could get drunk with you." He offered with a glance to the glass in Zeph's hand. "I've alwa-always wondered wh..what it was like."
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Whatever trepidation you might have been feeling lessens significantly at Sam's bright tone and brighter smile. Maybe a lot of what you've done has been a mistake, but if it means he's a bit more confident and having a good time... well, that seems worth it. Worth a lot.
"I'm glad." You smile down at him - a real, genuine, bright-as-sunlight smile that lingers for only a heartbeat or two before fading back to your usual calm, vaguely amused teasing. "'s good t'see you havin' fun. I was beginnin' t'think y'didn' know how."
The comment about drinking has you snorting in amusement, shaking your head wryly at his dream. "Better not t'get hooked. Fall too deep into the bottle an' you'll never swim out." It's what happened to you, after all. You found comfort in a jealous, possessive lover, and now you're a high-functioning alcoholic who will probably die young and alone.
Sam laughed; he'd been unsure for a long time that he knew how to have fun too. A lot of things that others around him seemed to enjoy like parties, games, relationships and harrowing adventures...there had been many years where he'd resigned himself to never being a part of anything that wasn't sitting alone and working on his books. "Ma-Maybe I'll b..become a par-party animal now."
That was something people said, right?
He frowned at Zeph's comment on drinking...he'd seen his host drunk a couple of times and was used to see a bottle or glass in his hand, but so far had not considered it to be a problem: perhaps in some ways it was good he'd never had the chance to indulge. Sam knew if he had a chance to lose himself in something so simple as alcohol he'd likely abuse it.
Well, that topic of thought was depressing. He looked away, past the buildings and party, down through a crack in the alleyway to the sea, which glittered under the light of lamps on the shore. "...Do you thi..think..." Sam looked back to the party, the dancers: it felt like they were both done with that, for the moment. "...Do you w-want to go for a swi..swim in the sea? I've never..d..done it, and I'm alre..already doing new things to-tonight..."
we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Maybe I'll become a party animal.
Well, that makes you laugh. Loud and rolling like waves on the shore, the peal of amusement leaves you unbidden and unpracticed, breaking through the night. It fades quickly, but your grin lingers a moment longer and you clap him on the shoulder. "The best party animal. King'a the beach by th'end of Long Night." You shake him a little, friendly and playful, imagining that version of Red with yet another chuckle.
Your alcoholism is a depressing thought; good thing he knows how to distract you. Wrapping your arms across your chest you raise a surprised brow to the other man. Swimming does sound nice, and if he doesn't have to breathe then presumably drowning needn't be a concern.
Though it does beg another issue. Because at this point you'd probably just strip and jump into the water, and that seems about as far away from your companion's wheelhouse as baking in the sun. "I dunno, Red- you'll hafta take off sum'a those layers 'fore t gettin' in. An' I'm beginnin' t'suspect they're glued on."
