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!
Finn has lost an umbrella and ruined a set of clothes by helping a man who shares his face to build a sand wall. And the worst thing about all of this is that it does not seem the strangest thing about his time in Torchline. Still, those items need to be replaced, and whilst Finn knows it would be better to go home to do so, he also knows his time here is limited. And he quite likes it here.
So he instead finds himself perusing the marketplaces of Haulani, the stalls covered with tarpaulin to shield from the drizzle that falls all around. Finn finds himself relieved at this, given how often it rains. But he does not like crowds - or prolonged social interaction, for that matter - and so he does not plan for the outing to take long.
Amalia is out among the crowds against her own better judgment, seeking anonymity among mulling figures and unfamiliar faces. Gifts to take home, baubles and trinkets; she trades for bread and other goods, already having established something of a reputation for her skills. So much for anonymity, but at least little else is known about her but her name and her skill. No moniker of Shield, no family ties, no cloud of mistakes and responsibilities to carry like Atlas beneath the sky.
She doesn't mean to see him in the crowd, and when she does she doesn't mean to stare. For all she knows Finn would like to never see Amalia again, their strange stolen moment washed away like footprints in the tide. She hadn't expected to see him at all, figuring that Torchline was big enough and their worlds different enough so as not to intersect.
A mistake, she supposes.
But she's seen him now, and it's better to be frank and forward than try to pretend she has not. Amalia has never been very good at pretending, after all. She moves not toward him, but adjacent, alongside, coming to a stop at a comfortable distance, a flush on her tanned cheeks. "Hi, Finn," the Shield says softly- and then nothing else, leaving him space to pursue or step away.
Finn is inspecting a clothes stall, a hand reaching out to brush against the fabric of a shirt, seeing in it much more detail than his cursory glance suggests. Behind his lenses he can see the twining colours of all those who have visited before, separating Accepted from Attuned from Abandoned. There are darker ribbons too, in places - a sickness of Ascended, but Finn does his best not to look too closely at those.
Quite what the shirt looks like has stopped being important for the time being, and the voice that calls his name is a distant echo, like someone calling into the mouth of a cave. He blinks and the world rushes back - the sound of the marketplace, the movement all around. Finn turns his head and he sees her, shrouded in viridescent and gold, the colours entwining, setting her face aglow. His lips part - she’s on fire with it, a beacon in the dullness of the rain, and Finn finds his words strangling in his throat.
”Amalia,” he manages eventually, his gaze never seeming to settle on her. ”I... hello, again. I didn’t... what are you doing here?” Good job, buddy.
She expects his alarm yet is still surprised by it, the slow uncertainty with which he regards her unsettling, but not unkind. He's wearing glasses today, but it doesn't make him seem more put together. If nothing else Amalia finds him somewhat more disheveled, perhaps somewhat the worse for wear given his time on these shores.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you." An apologetic smile creeps along the corners of her lips, familiarity with being taken aback evident in the chagrined wrinkle of her eyes. She feels awkward all at once, like maybe this was a mistake. "I was- I'm looking for gifts, I suppose. To take home with me." Treasures, reminders of moments for people who had no part in them, experiences isolated into physical things.
Uncertain what more to say now that she's captured her attention, Amalia focuses on this musing, clinging to it like a raft. "Have you ever thought about how strange it is, that we bring people back mementos of something they didn't experience?" Her fingers hook upon a scarf as blue as Kiada's eyes. "Almost like we're apologizing for being happy without them."
07-21-2020, 02:38 PM (This post was last modified: 07-21-2020, 02:39 PM by Finn.)
FINN
the spyglass
I’ll take the long way ‘round
It takes a further few seconds for Finn to pull together the threads of his wandering mind, tying them down like tethered balloons; they threaten to fly away again at any moment. ”It’s quite alright. I clearly wasn’t thinking about clothes,” he remarks with a half smile, glancing back at the shirt and seeing it properly now. It’s a dark grey affair, a suitable replacement for the one he has ruined.
That she answers his very obvious question is relieving in a way, Amalia forgiving his obviousness at asking what she could possibly be doing in a marketplace other than shopping. ”Gifts?” he repeats, before nodding his understanding. ”That’s right, you said you were only visiting.” The last time they met he had been in no state to hold conversation, and whilst that is still fairly true now, he’s at least had a few hours of rest.
Her musings intrigue him, his stormy eyes dancing over the backs of her hands as she inspects the stall. ”Or like we’re apologising for leaving,” he agrees. ”Though I confess, I have no one to buy them for. I don’t think I’ve ever purchased a memento.” It’s embarrassing as he says it out loud, Finn scoffing under his breath at his own honesty. But then he catches the scarf she’s looking at, and his eyes widen a fraction.
”I have yours,” he says, nodding at the garment. ”At least, I think it belongs to you...?”
"What were you thinking about?" Ever innocently nosy, she asks before she can think to stop herself, curiosity bubbling from her lips in a fount of alto chords.
There is relief, relaxation as he answers her musings with conjecture of his own, a smile ghosting amusedly over coral lips. "Or that." Repaying the price of friendship, something that ought to be free- or paying it forward, perhaps. She's still looking at the scarf when he makes his next confession; unbidden her dark gaze springs up toward him, a frown pulling together her furrowed brows. "Not even for yourself?" she wonders gently, tilting her head, the smile still there. She doubts that he truly has nobody to give a gift to, but does not challenge it outright. She knows what it is, to feel alone.
He has hers. "My..? Oh!" Confusion gives way to realization gives way to an embarrassed flush, Amalia pulling her hands back to push her hair behind her ear. "My scarf. I... yeah. I'm sorry I left- you seemed comfortable. I didn't want to wake you." And so I abandoned you to sleep on the beach, while spying from nearby as a bird. For once in her life, Amalia does not push her foot further down her throat.
Her question catches him utterly off guard, Finn glancing between Amalia and the stall of garments. ”I was thinking about how many people must come and go through here,” he says slowly. ”How many people miss each other, coming close to meeting... but never managing it.” Is it the truth? Yes, in a way. Is it what he was literally seeing? No, of course not.
He’s distracted himself again just considering it, humming a note of confusion at her question, only to remember where it’s come from. ”Well, I ruined a shirt in one of these downpours, so I need to get a new one. But I’m not one for trinkets, particularly. Are you getting anything for yourself?” As he speaks he lifts the dark grey shirt, considering whether it will fit him and realising it can be altered and tailored when he gets back anyway (Cian will insist on it, doubtlessly).
”I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he counters her apology, flicking a glance across at her. ”Thank you, though. If you aren’t too busy after this, I’ll stop by where I’m staying and return it to you.”
"What are you one for?" Again the question slips out before she can contain it, curiosity getting the better of her. The novelty of talking to a total stranger is something she did not expect to enjoy this much, but Finn makes it easy with his (apparent) frankness and open tone. Shaking her head, she smiles slightly. "No. I'm only buying apologies today." It isn't often Amalia buys things for herself.
"It's a good color," Amalia says of the shirt. "You'd look good in green, too." An entirely uninvited opinion, she realizes, swiftly looking away from him, back to the array of scarves. A red one like the one she lost during LongNight catches her eye; raising it up she runs a hand over the fabric, trying to bury her general awkwardness in the regularity of menial things.
Laying the scarf down again, she turns back to Finn with a shrug. "You seemed like you needed it." No other reason, really: he seemed like he needed a place to sleep, and she happened to provide haven. "I... I'm not to busy, no. Though it's really okay."
Finn doesn’t quite know how to answer that, the beginning of an reply starting to form on his lips before he hesitates. He isn’t sure why - perhaps it’s because he rarely finds himself around the sort of people who want to know about him, or maybe he’s just used to being alone. Either way, he’s already embarrassed himself in front of Amalia, so there’s little sense in stopping here. ”Music,” he offers. ”I hope the recipients of your apologies forgive you.” A faint smile, then he’s glancing back at the shirt.
To hear her remark on his appearance, on what he would look good in brings a flush of colour chasing up his cheeks, Finn lowering the shirt and folding it with the intention of getting it. ”Thank you,” he says, ”I’ll... I’ll keep that in mind.” He watches as she raises the scarf, as she excuses away their interaction on the beach, and he nods at the garment.
”If you’d prefer I could get you a replacement instead,” he offers.
He offers to buy her a new scarf instead of returning the one she lost, and Amalia does consider it, her eyes flickering back to the dark, appealing red. "You don't owe me any more apologies," the Shield points out, a hint of mischief softening the rebuttal, her smile touched and amused.
It fades as quickly as it bloomed, the memory of something dark shuttering the sun. Spots of bloodshed behind her eyes, a chest ripped open and thrown against her, the red scarf her only tether back to the world-
Swallowing down the rush of panic she retreats into herself, clasping arms across her chest. "I don't think red is my color anymore," she murmurs, looking out into the rain, across the crowd and toward the sea. She might have stayed there drifting away were it not for a soft call, a low song carried over the figures that populate the market.
A bright blink; she comes back to herself at once, looking up expectantly as the starwhale comes into view. "Hi, Jyo," Amalia greets, warmth and animation returning to her face as she extends her arms to the starry child. "Vi's beard, you're so wet."
Their small moment of connection disappears in a jarring flicker of what he thinks is panic or nerves, Finn left watching and wondering as Amalia abruptly backtracks, and gazes out into the rain and the sea. The song distracts them both, the Spyglass blinking and letting surprise bloom across his face at the sight of the starwhale - the second he’s seen since he arrived at Torchline. This, then, might well be the woman that Nate mentioned - it doesn’t much surprise Finn.
”She’s beautiful,” he remarks softly, realising all of a sudden that he’s still holding the shirt. He turns, addressing the stall owner so he could make his purchase, stormy eyes still lingering on the red scarf. ”No apologies, then - I will just return the scarf you loaned to me.”
She doesn't catch it as Finn draws away emotionally, the flashback still ringing like a siren in her ears. At least the starwhale is a balm, keeping her from spiraling further down. "She is," the Shield agrees readily enough, inhaling a soothing breath of starlight before releasing the calf to greet the man. "Her name is Jyoti." Cooing, the little whale peers over Finn's shoulder as he finishes his purchase, too brazen to account for personal space.
With one last look at the red scarf Amalia nods her head. "Alright." It feels awkward once again, the friendliness they almost had drowned out by that ever-present roar. Guilt clings cloyingly to the Shield's tongue, leaving it heavy in her mouth.
She doesn't know what to do or say next, how to make up for herself. An apology is in order, and yet she has already told him not to apologize. So she retreats to the place she is most comfortable, the easiest thing for her to find solace and confidence within. "Are you hungry? I haven't eaten yet if you.... if you'd like to join me."
”Ah - hello, Jyoti.” Finn blinks his surprise at the starwhale calf that comes to nose over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he’s being reminded by the merchant to take the purchase now wrapped in brown paper. Through his eyes Jyoti looks like a thing of wonder and magic - which is true, really, even without magical spectacles. Even so, he’s caught up in her innocence, her brazen curiosity, and turns back to Amalia in time for her to mention eating together.
Finn is hardly a gourmand; indeed, his sustenance usually consists of whatever is available, and even then it is rarely savoured. Still, at the thought of food his stomach does rumble tellingly, causing a faint flush to flood his cheeks. ”I haven’t, if you can believe it,” he says, his amusement the quiet and dry kind. ”I have a little time to spare - that sounds nice. Where would you like to go?”
Her smile widens at the sound of his stomach, something like relief washing down the small of her back. "I'll have to take your word for it," she replies lightly, raising and eyebrow and glancing down at his stomach with a small laugh. She might have worried about another blunder, but here in the familiarity of food and sustenance she feels safe. Here at last is solid ground, something she knows as well as her body, her bones.
As to where- well. "Actually, I have some food on me. I thought we might find a quiet place and sit. Unless... unless you wanted to go somewhere else?" Ah, so the anxiety is not truly gone, but who would she be without it? Jyoti sings her encouragement of the idea, flashing images of a secluded bench into the Shield's mind.
"You could tell me more about the music you like. Maybe... maybe we know some of the same songs." Flushed and hopeful, she looks up at him through faintly apologetic eyes. She wants to make up for her earlier blunder, for losing herself at an inopportune time. To cling to the connection she seems to be making with this windblown, wayward man.
