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!
“Ah, of course. You’ve mentioned that before...” He wonders if on the next assignment, Cian might be convinced to let th Spyglass travel with his guitar. So long as he can carry it without hindering anything… setting down the cup to take his notebook and jot a quick note to himself, Falke quickly closes it and sets it aside again. “I wonder if taking a walk might help whenever you don’t have it. Safrin’s stars are marvelous here, or so I’m told. Anything to distract the mind and trick it into letting you sleep.” Pausing for a moment, the Fixer inclines his head and acknowledges that it’s easier said than done.
“Though if you’d prefer, I have valerian root and lavender with me.” And Finn knows the drill and dosage on those. In this way, Falke is rather predictable. Without any magic, they are bound to everyday cures and respites found in the natural world. When faced with a medical or psychiatric problem he can’t truly ‘fix,’ The Fixer finds himself occasionally wishing for an Outlander to come and help him. If only to aid his patients.
These demigods, though... he’s trying to suppress a natural curiosity about the individuals, about what Finn sees when he looks at people. That is fascinating.
“Why do you think you struggle to understand him? And are you fixating on anything in particular?”
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
Falke takes his notes and Finn leans in to sip at his cup of tea, savouring the heat and the taste of the drink. It floods his senses momentarily, affording a brief distraction; he has asked, before, about bringing along something to distract him when sleep starts to become problematic. He has of course been shot down for it, but the Fixer is a different beast. Perhaps he will have more luck. That tastes too much like hope, though, so Finn leaves it there and zones back into the conversation.
”A walk?” he echoes, leaning back in his seat and mulling it over, shrugging his shoulders. ”It cannot hurt,” he says. ”I’ll try and walk along the beach tonight, if I can’t drift off.” But more effective, even if never an exact cure, are the valerian root and the lavender. ”If you wouldn’t mind,” he says slowly.
He grows visibly uncomfortable as the subject turns more intentionally to Remi and how meeting him has affected the Spyglass; whilst it’s true that Finn likely needs to talk about it, he doesn’t have to be happy about it. ”I’m fixating on everything,” he confesses. ”The similarities between us, the differences. He is a very different man, but... I can’t explain it. I am drawn to him, but I don’t think it’s good for me.”
He doesn’t blame Finn at all for wanting the supplements. Falke is well aware that many of his suggestions aren’t a ‘one size fits all’ kind of cure, particularly with something like insomnia. But as the Spyglass said, it can’t hurt to try it. There’s some level of indulgence on each side, isn’t there? Falke in his listening, Finn in his willingness to try whatever the Fixer throws out at him. He smiles and nods, agreeing to the sleep aids and dropping that part of the conversation.
On to the heart of this session, it seems.
“Okay.” No judgement there. “Do you think you can explain to me why you think being drawn to him is bad?” Because being drawn to someone isn’t inherently bad, even for them and the work they do. It might add some definite complications, but then Falke isn’t privy to all the information Finn is. However, knowing the nature of Finn and his fixations, the good doctor can hazard a guess. He gently probes a little further. “Would you say these fixations are interfering with your work?”
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”He reminds me of someone I might have become,” Finn says slowly, speaking to the rippling surface of his teacup. Someone I might want to become. ”When we speak, I... am more open than I intend to be. I find myself telling him things that I would not tell a good friend. Or a doctor.” He presses his lips into a humourless, sad sort of smile. Finn has no good friends, so the doctor is the closest approximation to it.
”It’s like I’m trying to find what is broken inside him, that I might fix it. But sometimes...” He shakes his head, indicating the wish to drop the subject. At least he can respond to Falke’s final question. ”Yes,” he murmurs, stifling any further words for a moment with another sip of tea. ”I have lingered in Torchline longer than I might have otherwise, as a result. I tell myself it is a break, but... it isn’t.”
Though Falke is in most cases, bound by patient-doctor confidentiality, he is also bound to the Order. He has an understanding with the Leadership, that they’ll let him keep the confidences of their members and report anything that seems troubling. It’s been the rare case that developes into something troubling, but what he hears from Finn right now gives the Fixer cause for concern.
No judgement, but the gentle nods of his head indicate the gears are moving, and quite rapidly, too.
He takes another sip of the tea. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with having someone you can open up to, Finn. I’d encourage it.” Obviously. He's tried to encourage the Spyglass to develop relationships before. There’s a long pause, in which Falke genuinely loathes what he has to say next. “But in this case…” A sigh. “I have to agree that it’s problematic. Not because of who he is or what he looks like, but because of how he's managed to distract you. Thank you for telling me.” Putting the tea aside again, he folds his hands in his lap.
“Do you want to be a demigod?” Falke asks, coming back to the first identifier of the other man. “Or perhaps I should ask what and who you want to be, if you were not in the Order.”
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
Falke’s silence tells him everything, and Finn already knows he’s gone ahead and drank his own poison. This will get back to Cian, he has no doubt, and he internally braces himself for the things that will fall out of this meeting. ”You’re welcome,” he says to his teacup, taking another sip before pointedly setting it on the table. ”You are right, of course.” He’s pulling the shutters down again, slowly but surely, indicating that the rest of their conversation will likely be polite, but will not yield any further insights.
His smile his flat, and he slouches further in his chair, watching Falke through tired eyes. ”I can think of nothing worse,” he confesses about any impending demigodhood. ”The Order has given me a better life than any I had before it,” he says. ”I confess I have never given it much thought.” He doesn’t think he’s capable of it, of living any life outside of this one.
Ah, he’s made a misstep; a necessary, but unfortunate misstep. Obligations demand Falke put the Order above all, even when he wishes he couldn’t. Like Finn, he can’t imagine a better life than what he has now, what they’ve made him into, the opportunities given. And yet times like these make him fervently wish some things were more… flexible.
“If you can maintain a relationship with him that allows you still do your job, I don’t see how it could be anything but beneficial. Plenty of members have friends outside The Order, spouses -” he tries to make it better, tries to smooth the edges of the sting. It won’t do any good, he knows, the signs of Finn’s retreat are in blazing bold letters - you done fucked up, doc.
“I hope that’s not just placating me,” he adds with a slight, awkward chuckle. “And as always, if you want to talk more about our fixations, myself or Doctor Hart are always available.” A pause. “Or even about the demigod’s complexity. I might be able to shed some light…” Tapping the table, Falke stands before putting his notebook in his bag and then bringing out two small bottles of the promised sleep aids.
“Enough for the next couple of days,” he says, offering it to the Spyglass before patting him on the shoulder and heading out of the room.
