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!
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
Sitting, where he is, on a scrape of rock overlooking the rainbow geysers, Nate feels more at ease than he has in a long, long time.
Of course, that's not really saying too much, considering the state his mood's been in lately. More than enough weight on his shoulders to keep from ever breaking the surface, even with the buoy of recent engagements, the promise of a quiet Flowerbirth.
It's quiet today, under a grey, drizzling sky, the kind of weather Nate had never really thought he'd appreciate. One of the effects of his ascension that didn't really bother him much. It seemed he wasn't the only one enjoying the weather either, a small school of cloud manta's lingering along the coast, feeding on the short plants that grew along the edges of the rainbow pools, drawing the pale cyclopean gaze of the ascended.
Maybe, if he stays statue still, and if he's lucky, the creatures will wander closer.
When Finn thinks, he walks. And when he walks, he pays little to no attention to where he’s going, seeing the world through whispers of colour that he swears he can still visualise and follow, even without his aura spectacles. It’s a surprise, then, when he pauses and finds that he can still see the colours, more vibrant than before, and he isn’t sure where he’s found himself, or whether what he’s seeing is real.
But there’s a statue nearby, one wearing clothes, and belatedly Finn realises that it’s actually a man. He walks through the drizzle, oblivious to the cloud manta nearby, and they soon swoop to take off when he disturbs them. Finn still does not notice. ”Sorry to disturb you,” he murmurs, his voice a little rough in the rain - when had he last held a conversation? ”Where am I? I believe I have gotten lost.”
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
It's not him that disturbs the cloud manta, which... feels like some kind of victory. But that begs the question of what, moments before a soft voice sounds behind him. "Fuck." Nate barks as he turns, only to be immediately caught off guard again by the hauntingly familiar face. Weird doppelganger tricks didn't really seem like Remi's MO, so Nate tried to swallow his confusion and ignore the man's face. "Sorry, I..." He tries, before shaking his head and focusing instead on the question he'd been asked.
"This is the Rainbow Road." The stranger was lucky to have caught him in a good mood. A great mood, even, because Nate didn't stop with the simple answer, but offered more. "Where were you trying to get to? I can take you." He rises to his feet, the single blue eye flicking towards the coast, the long gone mantas. It wasn't like he had anything more going on.
Not expecting the curse, or the flash of recognition in the man’s expression, Finn comes to the conclusion that walking around looking like the Governor of Torchline will probably garner a few looks, and he should probably start to expect it. Good job blending in, buddy! ”I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, dropping back a couple of steps to give the man room to get to his feet. His stormy eyes follow the mantas off into the drizzle, as if caught momentarily by their beauty, and he snaps his attention back with a flutter of lashes.
”The Rainbow Road,” he repeats, the colours starting to make a reassuring amount of sense. Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, his curls already soaked through, Finn glances over his shoulder as if expecting to see the inn he’d left what only felt like a minute ago. ”I don’t know,” he admits in response to just where he is trying to go. ”Haulani, I suppose. I must have gotten distracted...”
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
"S'fine." Nate's hand comes up as if to brush away the words, the almost apology, casually. Shoulders roll back as he stands, stretching after so long spent so still, the moment of quiet giving him a chance to look over the stranger, to find the things that are unfamiliar in an attempt to size him up.
A low whistle leaves Nate at the admission, one brow rising as he does, tugging on the scar across his face. "Long way to be distracted for." He comments softly, trying to keep too much of an edge out of his voice, already picking up on the discomfort all but rolling off the other man. "I can get you back to town. The inn, right?" A wry smile twists Nate's lips as his hand is thrust out. "It'll cost you your name though."
Finn knows this look. Knows how it is to be sized up, to be scrutinised, and it’s almost an automatic response for him to grow still, for him to politely focus his gaze somewhere over the other man’s shoulder until his inspection is done. ”It is a habit I am trying to break,” he says of his distraction, though he has about as much of a chance of that as learning to fly.
Still, the offer to get him back to town, the guess about the inn - it has a smile curling at his lips, something in him seeming to relax a bit. ”Is it that obvious?” he murmurs, glancing down at the offered hand before extending his own to shake it. His handshake is surprisingly firm, warm, at odds with the rest of him. All of this is, in fact, and that’s merely because he hasn’t worn his glasses out today. He knows nothing of what this man is, of how he should behave.
”Finn,” he informs him, paying the cost of his name. ”Rosencrantz. I appreciate your help.”
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
There are a lot of things about Finn that set Nate a little more at ease, that have the suspicious beast in him cooking, giving way to something a great deal warmer, more friendly. Not that that meant the other man wasn’t dangerous, and if Nate knew what he represented... but he doesn’t. ”Obvious when you know what to look for.” Comes the enigmatic answer.
His hand is accepted, shaken while introductions are made. ”Nathaniel. Nate, if you want.” He doesn’t offer a last name, and not only because it will soon be changing. Nate’s not that trusting. ”Don’t mention it. Everyone needs a hand now and then, right?”
Before he takes a step in the direction of Haulani though, Nate whistles, a single, sharp note ringing out over the rainbow rocks, before he turns his back to them and offers a grin to Finn. Pemota drifts up from the crags she’d been exploring and trails after them, settling at Nate’s shoulder, her immediate suspicion of the man an unwelcome cloud in the back of his mind. ”What brings you out to Torchline?” Hands pat his pocket for a pack of smokes while he speaks, brow raised towards Finn once he finds them, a silent you mind? in the gesture.
”Nate,” Finn repeats with a nod. He doesn’t respond outwardly to the enigmatic remark, though it’s unclear whether or not it’s because it has gone right over his head, or because he pays no heed to it. Indeed, a boyish smile sneaks across his face, his hands moving to tuck back into the pockets of his coat. ”Yes, that’s true,” he agrees warmly. Everyone does need a hand now and then, but it’s not something he’s used to hearing.
The whistle brings his focus back, and stormy eyes widen at what he swears is a miniature version of a starwhale, the creature drifting gracefully to hover at Nate’s shoulder. ”I thought them all gone. They are myths, where I come from,” he admits, glancing distractedly at the smokes and nodding as if to tell him to go ahead. If it were not for the man’s unusual companion he’d have been surprised that Nate even asked.
”Visiting, for a few days,” he offers absently by way of explanation for his presence in Torchline.
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
Pemota has inspired varied reactions in those that have seen her, but after the last time someone had react with awe, Nate finds himself a touch wary. It’s not something he comments on though, not right away. The starwhal, meanwhile, has forgotten her suspicion in favour of being admired, low crooning notes leaving her as she trails starlight and static in the air.
Nate lifts a cigarette to his lips, lights it with a match as quickly as he can, and takes a drag. ”I’ve only seen one other.” He offers finally. ”Where is it you’re from?”
A few days seems an awful short amount of time to spend on Torchline, even with the weather as miserable as it is. ”Some kind of business then? A few days isn’t enough for pleasure.” The wink that accompanies the words doesn’t quite have the same affect it would normally, given he only has the one eye, but it’s the principle of the action.
They walk, and the crooning notes of the starwhal’s song are a pleasant backdrop to their conversation. Finn lets it sink into him, this sound, paired with the pit-pat of the rain all around. ”Where did you see the other?” he asks with interest, glancing cross at Nate and his halo of smoke, and the creature bobbing and floating around him. Then, of course, the questions are fired back at himself, and his smile fades.
”A place I’m not at liberty to mention,” he says quietly, almost apologetically. ”A place that is inextricably linked to the business that I am most certainly here for,” he adds, this time with the barest whisper of a smirk. ”Rest assured, even if it were for pleasure I would not know what to do with the time.” Finn works and pretends to rest, but he very rarely plays.
”I’m sorry, if those seem like unhelpful answers. I don’t intend to come across as rude.”
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
"Some woman, in the Hollowed Grounds." Nate answers the question after a long moment, a long draw on the smoke, his shoulders rolling in a shrug. "Some... crafter, or baker, or something. I don't remember." A lie, but the easiest one he could offer to stop any more questions. "Sorry I can't offer more." But hey, he still has a starwhale, right here and practically begging for attention. It should be enough, even without him talking about Amalia.
The answer to the question he shoots back though, is immediately intriguing, has Nate's eye roaming over Finn a touch slower, more interested in the strange man now. A slow, wide smile stretches Nate's cheeks, his elbow coming out to brush against Finn gently. "You some kind of spy or something?" Nate laughs, clearly not being serious, and only spurred on by the smirk he receives from the other man. The subject of pleasure is far more interesting though, Nate leaping on it immediately. "Would you not know because of lack of experience, or lack of interest?" Maybe he's being pushy, but Nate can't help the way his grin grows wicked, the way he leans in conspiratorially as he asks his questions.
A hand comes up to waves away Finn's apology, Nate shaking his head. "You're not coming across as rude. Just... interesting." A little puzzle of a man, wrapped up in a pretty package.
”Hardly - you’ve offered more than enough.” Finn smiles, but there’s something faltering in it. Not something bad, necessarily - it’s just that he recognises the sort of woman Nate’s talking about. He’s researched her, found her... and met her, though he shouldn’t have done. She should have been in the Hollowed Grounds instead of taking a vacation in Torchline. Realising he’s lingered on it for far too long without offering anything further, he turns his attention to Pemota again as they walk.
That is, until Nate nudges him with an elbow. Huffing out a laugh, not expecting the other man’s closeness or sudden good humour, Finn rolls his shoulder in a shrug. ”Perhaps. You never know,” he says, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat by now. He recognises the next question for what it is, and the smile that curls at the corners of his lips is awkward at best. ”Lack of trust,” he admits, though he isn’t sure why. ”Interesting is preferable. I am punched a lot less when I’m interesting.”
Confine me let me be the lesser of a beautiful man without the blood on his hands
The answer he receives isn't a No, which is worrying enough that the strange man and his strange answers will be brought up later, to people who can do more about it than Nate can. "I suppose that's the point of a good spy, isn't it?" Nate aims these words more towards Pemota than Finn, picking up on the strangers awkwardness and giving him just a touch of breathing room, if he wants it.
"Lack of trust, huh?" Nate scoffs, shakes his head. "Stupid thing to limit yourself with." He was absolutely throwing stones, though his glass house had been left behind when he'd come to Caido. "Especially for someone only here for a little bit. Who knows what you're missing out on?" Another wink was sent Finn's way, Nate only remembering the gesture doesn't have the same punch it once did halfway through, and immediately trying to pull back, lift the smoke back up to his lips and pretend he hadn't done anything.
An attempt made easier by the next words from the other man. "You get punched a lot?" There is a touch of concern in Nate's voice, though his grin hasn't quite managed to vacate his face. Finn doesn't seem the type to be able to take much violence, at least not judging by these few moments. Maybe he's wrong, but Nate made a kind of living out of being able to size people up quickly and accurately, and it's not a skill he'd lose so quickly, even without using it as often.
With a lopsided smile and his gaze on the way ahead, Finn doesn’t see that Nate has directed his remarks elsewhere, becoming aware of the silence he’s let stretch in the wake of questions about his profession. He blames the nature of distractibility. ”I help to find people,” he says, aware that it’s just as mysterious and vague as spy, but it’s said a little more light-heartedly.
Glancing across at the other man, Nate doesn’t know that Finn has all the ideas in the world about what he’s missing, and what he’s not missing for that matter. Still, his inner workings are labyrinthine and protected by locks and riddles; he merely offers a soft chuckle and shakes his head. ”Limits are in place for a reason. I dare say Torchline has plenty to offer by way of pleasure, though.” He knows of the brothel already, after all.
The concern is something unexpected, noticed only in fractional alterations in the other man’s face, and Finn huffs out another laughs. ”Not anymore. I’ve become more interesting, evidently.”
