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!
It’s been too long since I’ve really seen or talked to Zeph, and there are at least two reasons for us to catch up. Two personal, a thousand for business, and about a hundred that fall into both categories. About two hours into drinkin’, the emotions might come out, as we do away with the facade that we need reasons to see each other. History is history, after all. Can’t change it. All ya can do is take care’a each other while movin’ forward.
Mik takes the evening shift on a Monday and I entrust the night to ‘is capable hands as I grab a good bottle of Zeph’s favorite an head out the door. Turnin’ the corners an’ windin’ streets down towards the beach, I mull over the past few days. Mull over LongNight, the Outlander… sometimes it feels like my ‘ead’s spinnin’ when I try to put it all together. And the birdies tell me enough, but there’s always pieces missing. Personal pieces. Business pieces.
I kick at ‘is door when I get there - lightly, but loud enough for someone inside to hear. “Oi, Zeph. It’s Raz.”
You open the door shirtless, because it's fucking muggy and you know Raz well enough not to give a shit about decency. It's been a while since she came out to your threshold - used to be a regular thing, back when you weren't a widower and all - and you have to say you're more than a little surprised to find her there, a bottle of smooth whiskey in hand.
Raising the eyebrow now sliced by a scar, you hold the door open to let your friend in. You have confidence she'll make herself at home in your uncharacteristically clean house (thanks, Red) without any prompting from you.
Shutting the door, you head into the kitchen to grab a pair of glasses from off the highest shelf. 'Nice' china, which is to say actually made of glass. "You here on business or pleasure, Raz?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
“Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly around the bar much anymore. Gotta come all the way out ’ere now.” Wavin’ to the beach area and casually enterin’ the house, I do indeed notice how clean it is. Far more so than usual. Not that Zeph was ever sloppy, but bachelors got a certain reputation for a reason. It’s also a bit of a dig, cause I know he’s shacked up with someone - some Ascended dude someone - which is partially why I’m here. Partially not. The someone, that is, not the gender.
“Bit’a both,” I concede, placing the bottle on the counter and takin’ the offered glasses. Pourin’ us each a healthy amount, I give ‘is back and offer a clink to start us off. “But pleasure first. ‘Ow ya doin’?” Purposefully vague, I’ll let him decide where to start an’ go from there.
"'s a busy season fer me, ya know that." Prepping for the Ark to sail, prepping for LongNight, actual LongNight. And yeah okay maybe you used to frequent the bar more often before you had a house guest and a feud with an Arm-biter and a bear-child to occupy your time, but isn't that a good thing? Means you're finally getting out of your grief shell, or something?
Right?
You meet her glass with her own, a muttering "Cheers," before downing a sip. Not a gulp: this is good shit, and you know how to savor it, and besides. It's going to take you a second to figure out how to answer Raza's vague yet absolutely pointed question. "Oh, y'know. Gettin' ready fer the rain. Havin' my house invaded. Gettin' stabbed in tha face. Same old." You raise your severed eyebrow, the scar still far from fully healed. "How 'bout yerself, lady Liason?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
“Cheers,” I return, and take my own sip before quietly padding across the floor to a more comfortable place to sit. On my feet all day, y’know - I tend to make a beeline for softer, comfortable places. As I situate myself and listen to ‘im list th ways he’s busy, there’s also a frankness with which I look around the place. “Fer havin’ your house invaded, it’s awfully clean. Must be the polite kind’a intruders.” Raisin’ a brow in both a teasin’ and inquirin’ way, I do try to show some concern for the face thing. Seems like I’m the only one’a us that hasn’t had their face attacked.
“At least they left yer pretty eyes alone.” Ella had always like his eyes. I remember that much from before.
“Me?” I ask, slingin’ an arm over my perch. “LongNight was busy as fuck with the extras here. Otherwise -” I shrug, not really wanting to admit that I was in the dark with many things up until recently. “Listening.”
You watch Raza look around your house, knowing what's coming and dreading it. "Very polite," you reply with an elevated brow, not rising to the bait. She settles into one of your chairs and you go to join beside, taking the couch and spreading out without much ado.
As for your scar? "You should see th'other guy." It had been a delayed vengeance to be sure, but the Arm-Biter certainly emerged more the worse for wear. An overall win for you, you think. "'Sides, I'm told it makes me look distinguished. Sexy, even." Again you raise a sliced-through eyebrow, clearly waiting for her to weigh in.
Ah, but there's the business end. Raising the glass back to your lips, you take an appreciative sip. "And what're ya heard?" you ask her calmly, interested to know exactly what tidbits your well-informed friend has brought along to share.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
“I heard,” dryly, but not without a hint of a corner-smile, tacit approval in the imaginary battle of us vs. them. Which really shouldn’t exist. But it does, an’ even though I toe the line right now, my ultimate loyalties haven’t changed. “Sexy is pushin’ it though.” Sighing dramatically, I feign distress. “That was such a nice eyebrow. I was quite fond’a it. Now that it’s all mangled?” Shrugging, I ‘eh,’ as if his eyebrows were the make-it-or-break-it factor for me.
He has plenty’a admirers, or so I’ve heard. Ain’t about to add to ‘is big head. “Does your invader like it?” I suddenly throw at him with some sly side-eye. “Does ‘e keep comin’ back just for some’a that distinguished Kawaianu hospitality?”
I might leave it there. Might. Apparently this is a bit more important ‘n the business side of things at the moment.
08-10-2020, 03:07 AM (This post was last modified: 08-10-2020, 03:07 AM by Zephyr.)
As much as it's an ego boost to be called sexy, the one person you're very comfortable not being called sexy by is probably Raz. Not that she isn't a tall glass of water in a well-wrapped package, but she's also your dead wife's former best friend so you might as well be related.
Still, you give a little pout which immediately becomes a grimace as you take nice deep sip. "Y'know me. Hospitable." You don't really want to know what sort of rumors are circulating, and for a second you consider trying to change the subject, but if anyone deserves the truth it's Raz. Dead wife's best friend and all. "'S name's Sam. He's got a map shop. I've been helpin' him gettin' settled, but we ain't anythin'. He's a good kid's all." Not like that.
Turning warm brown eyes back to her, you raise your brow again. "How 'bout you? Got anyone keepin' ya company these days?" She's always been something of a loner, never with any difficulty warming her bed, but never with a lasting attachment. You and El used to take bets on whether or not she'd settle down. So far, El's still winning.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say it felt nice to ‘win’ that one. Even when ‘winning’ is a lot closer to pullin’ out some honesty than gettin’ a prize. It didn’t really matter who he was hanging out with or fuckin’, I just want to know if they’re gonna be around or if they aren’t worth the energy. An’ since this one’s seemed t’be around for a bit, well… Zephyr gets it.
Anyway. I’ll back off. “‘S all I needed to know,” I murmur with a crooked smile.
As for myself? “Nahhhh,” comes out a little more exasperated than I’d intended, but I suppose the subtext on that one word is small. There was Eloise, but that was just flirtin’ - so other than that, it’s been a dry, dry season. My cunt is gonna get cobwebs in it at this rate. “I been busy. Liasonin’’ an’ the Hanged Man an’ makin’ plans for an expansion. An’ afore I know it, a whole season’s gone by an’ I haven’t needed to buy but one new cot.”
Again, a little more exasperated an’ animated than I meant. But I can let my guard down with Zeph. He’s safe.
Sounds like being a government lackey is busier work than the 'biter makes it look. That, or Raz is a harder worker, which wouldn't surprise you one bit. "Whaddabout our fine new neighborhood 'stablishment?" you ask with a waggle of your brows. "Surely the Liason'd be more'n welcome in the Halenani. Hell, more'n one's our people cuts a paycheck there," you miss, thinking of James.
It's probably a poor time for this given her lack of lays, but you figure this is one piece of personal rumor you'd rather deliver before anyone else does. Trying desperately not to look sheepish (and failing somewhere spectacularly), you look down at your glass. "There is... Someone. I've been spendin' some time with. Ain't anythin', but..."
You take a sip of your drink, shrugging and struggling valiantly not to blush like a schoolboy. So far you haven't mentioned your whatever you're doing with Vai to a soul, because to mention it is to make it real and you're terrified of real things. Real things can be taken from you, and you don't like the person you are without them. Raza knows that all too well.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
Honestly? It’s not a bad idea. I may secretly long for the kind’a quiet, dependable relationships some seem to find, but in lieu of that, a girl’s got needs. They haven’t kept up with me because I haven’t had time, but give me time to breathe and it’ll undoubtedly come roarin’ back with a vengeance.
My eyes seem to narrow on their own when Zeph starts t’look into his glass, demeanor changin’ to somethin’ like a little kid pressed for the truth of who ate the last cookie. “Ohhhhhh.” It comes out now, don’t it? For some reason this one (maybe because it’s volunteered?) is already sitting better than the first. If I didn’t know him well, I’d think that was his plan all along. “If it ain’t anythin’, you wouldn’t be lookin’ like that,” I counter with a knowing smile.
Really, all I want is for him to be happy. Ella ain’t comin’ back, but that don’t mean we have to be unhappy for the rest’a our lives. She wouldn’t want that.
She's got you there. It's written all over your face how not 'not anything' your thing actually is, but you have a hard-hearted image to maintain. Or something. Except that more and more you're finding that you look more like the warm young man you used to be, the one who laughed easily and made jokes and loved with his whole heart. It's gross, and you would like it to stop.
You grunt, still peering at your whiskey as though it might hold the secrets to the universe (and hey, maybe it does). "Not a lot t'tell." A lie. "Her name's Vervain- Vai. Met 'er durin' LongNight an' thought that was it, but... I dunno. I started runnin' inta her more, an' then it stopped bein' on accident, an' now sometimes I wake up an' she's still in my bed." You sound properly mystified by this, your brows knit together and your mouth pursed into something halfway between a frown and a smile.
Rising up from your booze at last, you flash Raza a helpless expression. "The fuck am I doin', Raz? I ain't- I'm a damned widower. I was s'posed t'grow old an'crochety alone, yellin' at kids t'get offa my lawn."
Oh, yes. The dream.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
“C’mon, Zeph,” I reply with a strong eye roll as I stand to get more whiskey. Even with sippin’, it’s gone down quicker than I meant it to. “You act like you ain’t Torchline’s cool uncle. Crotchety, yeah, an’ forever mournin’ Ella, but your kiiiiinda a catch.” Gotta emphasize the kinda part, cause this ain’t supposed to be somethin’ that goes to his head - just one friend tryin’ t’show the other they’re a-ok.
I pause to think as I pour myself more, then turn around and lean against the counter for a moment. “What do you think El would’a wanted for ya? T’be alone?” This look is entirely different, wanting ‘im to really think about what I’m asking. “That’s not the kinda love she ‘ad for ya. An’... is that what you woud’a wanted for her if it were t'other way ‘round?”
Ahhhh, lookit me, askin’ the hard questions. I know what she’d tell me if I were in Zeph’s shoes, it’s just a matter’a guidin the old pain in the ass to the light. I cross my arms over my chest, refilled drink forgotten for a moment.
Oh, a catch are you? You raise a brow at that confession, a smirk tugging the corner of your mouth. "What's this, Raz? A compliment? I didn' know ya fancied me that much." You bat your eyelashes, but for all your deflection you appreciate her reassurances. She's as close as El ever came to having a sister, and you hadn't realized how much you needed her approval until now.
With a grunt of defeat you settle back into your chair, raising your glass in symbolic cheers. "Yer a wise woman, Raza Ekambe," you concede with a crooked smile. You bring the glass back to your chest, thumb running over the lip. "I know I'da wanted her t'be happy. Find herself someone an' move on. Hell, though, if it don't still feel like a betrayal. Or at least... terrifyin'. Losin' someone over again ain't somethin' I'm keen on doin', y'know?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
