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!
07-25-2020, 03:44 PM (This post was last modified: 07-25-2020, 03:52 PM by Falke.)
some nights feel like every night
The underground trade of Torchline does not disappoint. Usually the Fixer comes with his own supply of calming agents, but he’d left his little green pouch right by the dispensary, mid-selection and filling, if he recalls correctly. And as he’s no desire to partake in the local alcohol selection, Falke wanders down to the Port to see if any sailors or subjectively described ‘riff-raff’ could hook him up.
And oh, they do not disappoint.
The quality is nowhere near the smoothness of his own strains, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at it, particularly when his hip begins to ache and his mind can’t quite settle down for the night (and he couldn’t blame it, it was always this way when thoroughly intrigued by something new). Maybe next time he’ll return with his research assistant and the two of them can stay up all night instead. Maybe, maybe.
But for now, the clouds are gone and the stars are brilliant. Safrin and Rae have outdone themselves here, he thinks, as he settles himself on an empty dock, leaning against a mooring pole. The light of his joint glows in the darkness, the slap of the waves against the wood rhythmic and soothing. Falke begins to relax.
"Fancy meeting you here." Dorian said as he approached Gildenstern from behind. He hadn't come seeking the man out - quite the opposite as a little solitude after spilling his sob story to two strangers sounded lovely - but he wasn't unwelcome company. At least he knew how to hold a conversation, unlike their dear colleague Rosencrantz.
Dorian came to a halt at the end of the pier next to the Fixer, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a highly ornamented tobacco pipe. "Mind if I join you? Seems the pier is a popular place this evening." he said, as he prepped his pipe with leaves and lit it with a matching ornate lighter.
The Orator
but it wasn't that simple
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, unless Dorian means here - here, with here being the pier. Falke chuckles courteously, taking another hit from the joint. There’s a pause while he holds it in, then exhales, the sweet, tangy smell quickly wiped away by salt and other smells. “By all means, Mr. Orator. My pier is your pier.” Such is the way of things with the Fixer. He’s an amiable ‘yes man’ until something crosses his boundaries, and even then it’s often paired with an alternative.
Dark eyes look up at an ever darker sky and he sighs to himself. “In my head I knew the stars would be different here, but I don’t think I was really prepared for it” Living in one place his whole life, seeing only one part of Safrin’s artwork at a time. The wide open-ness of Torchline is breathtaking, and he finds himself in awe of the herald, even if she wasn’t his preferred choice. “I’d almost agree to deal with sand every day if I could look up at this every night.”
Dorian smiled a bit and nodded. He hadn't thought the Fixer would turn him down, but it was still nice to have that confirmed. He took up a spot on a support post, half leaning and half sitting on it. He looked up at the sky, gazing at Safrin's beautiful work. Cheeks pulled taught as his cigarette glowed briefly like one speck in the celestial masterpiece overhead. With a small puff, a smoke ring joined the sky as the Orator exhaled. "The gods did beautiful work here." he said in agreement.
But the notion of staying had him chuckling. "I could never - the weather puts a real humid damper on my style." he said with a sniff. Call him vain but he loved his suits and fashion, thank you. "I hope we will be done here soon. I've had quite enough pouring my heart out to strangers for one excursion." he said softly, squinting up at the sky. These Outlanders, blessed though they might be, had no idea the dangers they were dabbling in - dangers he knew far too well.
The Orator
but it wasn't that simple
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Ah, as if the Orator ever really pours his heart out. Falke grins a little to himself in the dark. For someone whose job was to talk, the man rarely revealed much about himself, and the Fixer secretly enjoys that particular irony.
Still, the comment piques his interest, and not just in an occupational way. “Not too keen on the outside world, then?” he asks casually, taking a slow hit after the question. Holding the substance in his lungs, he waits to see if the Orator will bite, exhaling after a few counts in a far less dramatic stream of smoke. He isn’t a fancy ring kind of guy. He’s a nodding along kind of guy, a listener, a staring at the clouds or stars or sprouting plants kind of guy.
And these strangers - well, they might not stay strangers. “Any of them pan out?”
"Certainly not any of the places we've been thus far." he said with a sigh as he looked up at the sky. "Torchline - humid, lawless, sandbar. Halo - freezing barren wasteland. Greatwood - just...why? Hollowed Ground - ugh." he shuddered at the mere thought of staying. No, thank you. Besides, why would he want to be anywhere less blessed by the gods? Their home was heaven compared to the majority of Caido.
His cheeks pulled in as he dragged on his cigarette again. Slowly he nodded at Gildenstern's question, blowing smoke out in rings once again. He was taking his time, knowing neither were in a big rush. "Both. Had to tell them of my experience with the Ascended to do it but hopefully it will be worth it." he said a bit tightly. He knew the Fixer would know why he wasn't fond of the topic - all of Stormbreak knew really.
The Orator
but it wasn't that simple
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Falke laughs, a very light chuckle that is the epitome of amusement. “The occasional change is good for us. Need to remember it's not just our haven we’re fighting for.” Wrinkling his nose in the heavy, salt-lade area, he manages to add, “But you’re right, that doesn’t mean we have to live there.” From his description, Falke already knows that he would find them all fascinating, but very unsuited to his particular needs.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, knowing the pain Dorian hides. The Order demands many things from them, though this is one thing he wishes he could ease "Does telling it ever get easier for you?” The Orator isn’t exactly an open book, he can’t read him the way he can read others. Between him and the Eye… oh, their leadership is strong, but rigid.
"Well of course - can't have Torchline ruffians trying to move to Stormbreak. Imagine the chaos of it." he said with a chuckle, flipping his cigarette through his fingers. More importantly their home relied on the other areas of Caido for various things. To lose it all would be detrimental to them as well. But it was much easier to poke fun than to be candid and serious. It wasn't like Cian was around to damper the mood after all.
Dorian merely nodded in acknowledgement to his apology, blue eyes gazing at the horizon. He did not answer the Fixer's question immediately. He finished off his cigarette instead, exhaling a steady stream of smoke as he cushed it out against the pier post and flicked it into the ocean. "Does a festering wound ever heal, my dear Gildenstern? One for which there is no treatment or cure?" he asked, a wry smile tugging on his lips. Finally, he shook his head slowly. "But it matters not. I do not speak of it because it is easy. I speak of it because it is necessary." And there was not a think the Orator would not do to advance their cause.
The Orator
but it wasn't that simple
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
“All this sand in the Tower?” He mock tsks at the thought of their very orderly (ha!), pristine abode covered in the little obnoxious granules, their cleaners and caretakers forever bobbing around with brooms, trying to keep it clean. It would be a small scale anxiety attack for everyone involved. “Definitely can’t have that.”
“No, but sometime the body surprises the doctors and begins to heal the wound itself.” The body - and the mind - are remarkable pieces of work, thanks to Caido and Rae. And people are an incredibly adaptable species. They learn to fix themselves or work around the injury. Dorian is, of course, in the latter category, as it seemed that even a great deal of time cannot begin to work its magic on him. “Tell me about these demigods,” he requests, abruptly changing the subject. “Finn said they were incredibly complex, and I can see how they would be. Such a gift and a burden to bear... Did you meet any?”
Dorian merely shrugged. He was no doctor, and his knowledge of the body was far more limited than Falke's. He wouldn't attempt to debate the issue further, knowing he was more than outclassed in that arena. The topic of demigods, however, was a refreshing one. "I met one demigod, and one up-and-coming demigoddess..." he said nodding.
And so the Orator regaled the Fixer with his tales of Ronin and Amalia, saying much but very little at the same time as he was prone to do. Nod that there was much to hide, but intrigue was half the fun of any good tale. When he finished, the night had begun to grow cold, and Dorian straightened. "But, I am afraid, I must retire for the evening. Our fearless leader has already added a months work of things to my to do list for tomorrow." he said with a chuckle. "Thanks for the chat. It's been lovely, as always, Gildenstern." the Orator said, before heading on his way.
-FIN
The Orator
but it wasn't that simple
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
