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!
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Haulani. It looks so different being out in the day. It’s a drizzly day, clouds threatening the idea of rainfall despite there not having been any rain thus far today. Still, the ground is damp and Felix easily maneuvers over it as he runs toward where he’d asked Zeph to meet to help set up where he could. After all, he’d wanted to learn more about Torchline, wanted to try some of that fried fish, and wanted to help out where he could.
It’s the least he could do for the trap that Felix had promptly dragged Zeph into and grinned like a fiend when it fell into place – even if he hadn’t been fully aware of the implications of it.
So he waits outside of one thing, feet tapping along the ground as the only sign of his inability to sit still and wait like the good teenager he’s supposed to be, watching the other side of the street as people mill about – still awed at how different everyone appeared during the day when the sun could hit, as opposed to the darkness of LongNight and the raging parties.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
An invitation to help Felix help with monsoon prep had been surprising but not unwelcome, and as you wander the street toward the meeting place you can't help wonder if this is some sort of trap. Not a malicious one, you're sure, but maybe the kid is going to try to use you to get drunk for the first time, or teach him how to pick up women - you don't fucking know.
The air is heavy and the sky is grey, threatening rain without any actual action. You love it, honestly: the feeling of pressure changing and dropping, the promise of petrichor, the mulling of clouds. You wonder if the kid has seen anything like a proper storm, or if his trees that block out the sky keep those at bay, too.
Well, he's about to find out.
You catch sight of him easily, still paler than most of the youths in Haulani and sitting there jittering like a leaf on a tree. "Felix!" you call out as you approach him, plopping down onto the bench and exaggeratedly splaying out your arms across the back of it, for all the world incredibly relaxed. "People watchin'? See anythin' in'erestin'?"
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
There’s a cool wind that blows in from the sea, tossing tousled dark hair as he waits, basically bouncing in place as if he might need an outlet for all of the energy bounding within him. At least he’ll have a way to get it out when Zeph appears, hopefully, ever eager to help and learn about all of these new things of Torchline that they didn’t have in the Greatwood.
Luckily for him, he’s not alone long. Not as he’s waiting, hands shoved into pockets, glancing over to see Zeph take a seat on the bench and a wide grin of greeting spreads across Felix’s face. “Heya Zeph!” He chimes, making his way over to sit with him, looking back over toward the shop he’d just been blatantly staring at. “They’re making clothes I think over there. But they’re really small, hardly cover a thing.” His lips purse slightly, nodding in the direction he’d been looking at. The shop itself was relatively outfitted, but there were indeed some scandalously small garments within.
But he turns his head back to Zeph with that same grin, shoving away any confusing thoughts on attire. “So what can I help ya with? I want to do something.” He offers, palms spreading along his knees as he leans forward, giving Zeph all of his attention to soak up what Torchline did for Flowerbirth.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
Of course the kid has managed to find the most scandalous shop he possibly can. At this point you really shouldn't be surprised. The combination of teenage hormones and toddler knowledge.... woof. No envy of him there. "'s a lingerie store," you explain as casually as you can manage, grateful that this conversation is far, far less awkward than the last one. "Underthings. Swimsuits, too." Not something you have much use for. Sure, you own a few pairs of swim trunks, but you much prefer to face the ocean as bare as the day you were born.
Gods the kid is far more eager than he has a right to be. It's fuckin' adorable, and you find your face crinkling into a good-natured smile, a chuckle rumbling in your chest. "Roarin' t'go, eh? Dunno- I'm pretty comfy. My old ass might not be able t'get up." Dramatically you settle deeper onto the bench, making a great show of being too old and decrepit to move.
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Of course Felix has. Not through any fault of his own, but the simple curiosity of it all. He’s content enough when Zeph replies, however, nodding as brows furrow together. “Lingerie…” He trails off, committing the term to memory before he’s puffing out his cheeks a bit at the mention of swimsuits and nodding as the explanation is given for what else they sell.
But that’s not the point of why he’s here. He wants to work, craves it, surprising for a boy of his age who’d likely rather want to be squirreled away doing nothing other than focusing on stirring up trouble.
He can’t help the exasperated look that crosses his face as Zeph settles in, eyes wide and lips parting, mouth opening in a small ‘O’ shape that has him thinking what the fuck. But Felix slips forward, arms outstretched, weak as hell in comparison with his youth and string bean arms. He aims to latch onto Zeph’s arm, plant his feet, and pull him along. “C’mon! You can sit on the beach or wherever we go and just shout at me what you want me to do.”
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
He falls right into your stupid clever trap, grabbing your hand and tugging incessantly with all his stringbean might. And boy oh boy do you ham it up, your face anguished and scrunched up in mock-struggle as your shoulders come forward from the back of the seat. With a great deal of groaning and grunting you allow him to get you onto your feet, planting your hands on your knees and bending forward with a gasp. "Auwe, that was a lotta work. Maybe I oughta sit back down..."
Of course you won't really sit back down, and you doubt Felix would let you if you tried. Obediently enough you trudge along beside him, tossing an arm over his shoulder chuckling softly at his enthusiasm. "Aite, aite- c'mon, then. I'll show ya what we're doin' today."
You lead the boy back down toward the beach, where men and women are filling sandbags to lay alongside the rivers. "Here- we build up th'banks of the Rainbow Road every year t'try an' stop the floodin', but this year we got the damn canals, too. Start fillin' up some bags an' I'll grab a wagon for us t' carry 'em back into town." It doesn't take you long to find one, given over by a fisherman you know, and return to check on the boy.
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Felix realizes very quickly that Zeph is heavy and it actually uses a surprising amount of might, but he manages to get Zeph to budge (because it was all him in his mind) evident by the way that Zeph is standing, hands on his knees, looking tired. He releases the hold on Zeph before his brows furrow and he stares at the older man as if he holds some audacity to just sit back down again after the teenager had worked so hard to get him to stand.
But finally they’re moving and Zeph’s arm rests along Felix’s shoulder, and the young attuned focuses on following the direction the smuggler leads, eyes taking in everything around them. The beach comes into view, and a wide grin spreads across Felix’s face as he watches people fill sand in bags, head bobbing as he listens to everything that Zeph has to say. “Okay!” And then the young boy gets to work.
He hops down into the sand, shoveling some of the sand into bags before he realizes that his bear shift might make some better progress — after all, his paws were made for digging. So he alerts those around him that he’ll shift just in case it takes them off guard, and he turns into the fuzzy, long haired bear that lived in his soul. He fills more bags, and as soon as he sees Zeph, he grabs a couple bags and drags them over toward the wagon before sitting and lifting them to dump them in.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
So you come back with a wagon and find a bear. Cool. Cool cool cool.
You have never seen a bear before. You have, however, heard of bears, and the descriptions you've been given are, well... much less fluffy, you suppose. Though he certainly fits the criteria of big claws and big teeth and big eyes and all-around bigness, giving you a moment's pause as you look the Felix-creature up and down, clearly somewhat impressed and not a little relieved that he didn't shift that night you dragged him away from the brothel. That would not have been a fair fight.
"Quite the look." You consider helping him carry the sandbags, but honestly, he seems to have it well in paw. "This what yer da looked like, too?" As soon as he's filled the wagon sufficiently you'll begin pulling it back toward town, making your way to the banks of the canals that definitely aren't a fucking flood risk, nope.
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Zeph’s pause causes a small grin to form along Felix’s maw, his fuzzy head tilting to the side briefly before he puts a few of the bags into the cart. And then he sits, before Zeph, at least for a brief moment to hear what he has to say. The question of whether or not it’s what his dad looked like has him shaking his head a small amount. In reality, he doesn’t really know, he knows his dad is a black bear but whether he was as fuzzy or fluffy, had claws as long and sharp as he did, the cub doesn’t know.
So instead, he shakes his fuzzy head, moving to stand and toss a few more bags into the cart, and when Zeph begins to pull it, he shifts back into himself to walk alongside the cart on Zeph’s other side. “He’s a black bear, but that’s all I know.” He offers with a small shrug, looking to the path ahead. “I’m a different kind of bear.” But a bear all the same, really.
He's not sure what else to say until they reach the bank where the bags need to be placed, and Felix focuses his attention on that ordeal, picking up one bag and laying it out before realizing he doesn't know the best way to place the bags to help enforce the bank.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
He shifts back from the big bear to the big boy, the long fur fading away into that same bright smile. Whatever possessed you to ask about his dad you don't know- it doesn't seem like a wound you have any right to dig into, but here you are, getting your fingers dirty.
Drawing to a stop at the bank of the river, you wipe an arm across your brow before settling in to work. "Here- stack 'em three deep and two high," you instruct, demonstrating the technique (lol as if) for Felix to emulate. "They don' go right along the bank 'cus we don' want 'em t'fall in. 'S like makin' an extra bank, basically."
You move a few more sandbags before digging back into the wound. "Yer da... you do much with him when you were little? Before... this?" Gesturing to the largeness of the two-year-old-turned-sixteen, you let this be self-explanatory.
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Felix stops when Zeph stops, almost as if on cue. Perhaps he’s been watching and learning form the man far more than he’s let on – ever the absorbent child, eager to learn and work for what he has and wants. The instruction is easy, and Felix spends a moment rolling up his sleeves again, grabbing a sandbag to begin to stack with Zeph, inspecting the older man’s work and ensuring he’s done it right before he decides to answer the question.
And really? He can’t remember much. So there’s a slight frown that crosses his face as he works to grab another bag to stack. “I don’t really have a lot of memories of him.” Felix answers honestly, the boy moving to grab another bag just to do something with his hands. “What I know is from mom.” His dual toned gaze flickers up to meet Zeph. “He had two colored eyes too, though mine are different than his were.” Another little connection. “And Remi says that I look exactly like him. But I couldn’t tell you if it’s true.” A shrug of his shoulders.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
A stolen childhood. A stolen father. It makes you think of your own lost son, of the years you'll never, ever have. "Never seen eyes like that. 'S a pretty neat gift he gave ya- gonna drive the girls wild." As much as you know you have no right to be talking about this, fuck if you don't want to give him something, some affirmation that what little he does have of his father should be cherished and loved.
You wish you'd cherished the things Ray left, more, instead of locking them away.
"I used t'have a son, y'know." Settling another sandbag into place, you don't look up at Felix. "Woulda been a bit younger'n you- well. Technically older, I guess." You chuckle wryly, shaking your head. There's a far-off smile on your face as you straighten and look across the water. "Who knows? Maybe if things'd been different the two'a you woulda been friends."
good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Of course, the compliment on his gaze does spark a quiet laugh to leave from the boy, a small shake of his head. “Back on about the girls, huh?” He teases lightly, though he still hasn’t given it much thought. No pull or tug toward exploring, unsure of where to even start in a place like this where it seemed like everyone knew what they were doing and here he was – inexperienced and young. Maybe he’ll just wait, surely his mother would appreciate that.
But he puffs out a quiet sigh as Zeph talks of his son, and while he slings a few more sandbags into place, moving back to grab a few more, he sidles up next to Zeph and looks up with those dualtoned eyes – bright and eager to hear more. “There’s not a lot of people that are my age around… At least ones that seem nice.” He half mumbles, setting another bag up into place. “What was he like?”
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
Yeah yeah yeah, you're back on the girls. Truth be told you find it enormously difficult to relate to Felix sometimes- not because he isn't delightful (he is), but because you don't know whether you should treat him like an infant or a young adult. "Aite, I'll let it rest 'til yer ready," you allow with a chuckle, running your hand through your hair. It was easy with Ray, and it's easy with the dock urchins, but with this bear cub you feel like you're learning a whole new language.
But it's one you find you like to speak.
You don't know why you've brought up your son. Maybe to make up for dragging out his father, an offering to share in the dregs of grief. "He was curious, an' kind. Loved swimmin' an' gatherin' rocks an' shells." You still have quite the collection of Ray's treasures, stashed away in your attic gathering dust.
You grab another of the sandbags, grunting at the strain upon your arm. "I'm sure you'll make plenty'a friends, kid. An, hey- ya got me." Not worth much, but you throw him a wink. A grizzled old man for a friend. How grand.
