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!
'Well if you'd just let me have my dreams, I wouldn't be deprived." The Alchemist huffs back, forgetting about fever dreams and obligations which will certainly go unmet in his current condition. It's a much happier thing to focus on the technicalities of Ronin's outfits, and if and when they should be appropriately worn (and not-worn).
Grumbling, still unhappy about the line to Safrin he can't help but feel in all of this, Remi nods agreeably enough. Whatever huff he's about to exhale disappears completely, becoming some mottled half-moan as Ronin's clothing disappears. Fever-sick and broken as his mind is, with Ronin's light bleeding through all of his cracks, Remi has never felt better. That combined with Ronin sat naked on a shell as they whisper off on an invisible sea towards the moon, the mountains and raindrop-lakes roaring beneath them is absolutely worthy of having his breath stolen for.
"Exactly like that." Remi whispers in response as Ronin's musical additions to the dreamscape take on colourful form: patterns and vibrant textures flow through the air like curtains caught in a breeze, but the Alchemist has eyes only for the man who has quite literally saved him from a nightmare.
The lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
”Well, it’s part of my job as your husband to make your dreams come true. Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do for you.” He winks, though the soft noise Remi makes in the back of his throat as Ronin’s clothes flutter away is another thing altogether. Smiling, he leans in to kiss the other man, all soft lips and gentle passion, like they have all the time in the world here. When Ronin stretches back, the shell has expanded into a fluffy bed that feels impossibly comfortable, and he tugs his husband to lay down with him.
”Glad to know I got it right,” he says with a grin, which fades by degrees. ”Are you going to be alright?” he wonders. ”I didn’t realise you could get a fever. You seemed really confused... and you punched a glass of water right out of my hands.”
"Are you using this dream as an excuse to be even more insufferably charming?" Remi wonders, for surely there's no other man on earth who could say something about making dreams come true, and mean it in a literal sense, other than Ronin. Sinking into the kiss and drinking it down like it's another dose of whatever it is about Ronin which has found and saved him here, the Alchemist stretches out a hand and lets it linger on his husband's thigh. It doesn't wander or tighten, merely anchors him there in a way which makes Remi feel as though he can breathe again (though his breath is absolutely held, at least until his lips part from Ronin's).
Collapsing down happily, Remi's clothes disappear as well. At the same time wings sprout from his back, one of which reaches out to drape across the huntsman. "I don't know." The Alchemist replies, his honesty a weighty thing that even the buoyant dream-air has trouble upholding. "It's magical, whatever it is. This...it isn't a sickness." Not a normal one, anyway. The Alchemist had grown too strong for that and they both knew it. Looking softly amused and properly contrite to hear what he'd done, Remi sighs and merely shakes his head. "I don't remember any of it. The last thing I remember is...the night with Amalia?" Squinting slightly as if he might make out the details somehow, he quickly ceases his effort.
"Before you came...Ludo was here. I think it was Ludo, anyway. Do you think...is this because of it?"
The lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
”Maybe. Or maybe it’s just how I am.” Ronin grins, holding Remi close with one arm as he lays down with him, the other playing through the soft feathers that come to drape across his chest. He’s content to drift with their ribbons of music, with their sea of glass that stretches endlessly into the dreamscape. He’s more interested in the man in is arms anyway. And what Remi has to say, now that they can finally speak in some semblance of normality... it’s not encouraging but neither is it surprising.
Letting out a deep sigh, the Star frowns and buries his face in the other man’s crown of curls.”I’ll figure it out,” he vows, and a small pulse of willpower has a beautiful canopy of leaves growing up and around the bed as it sails. ”Ludo...? Perhaps. I’ll do some research, and I’ll keep you safe until we can dream together again. I’m pretty sure you mistook a knife for a lighter, so...” His smile is sad. ”I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you.”
"If I can't remember...if I can only speak to you properly in dreams, that certainly makes it seem as though it has something to do with Ludo." What, the Lullaby can't say. Not locked in this dream world as he is with no tether to reality. Beneath his wing Remi's fingers sprawl against the huntsman's chest, his palm resting over his husband's heart.
Golden plumes sprout from Ronin's vines, with small white flowers that smell honeysuckle sweet on the colour-breeze of the Star's music. Frowning deeply to hear that his mind was so unhinged, Remi can do little else other than smile in sad agreement. "Maybe you should toss me in a pit again." He says as if it's a joke, though they both know it isn't.
"If I'm like this..." His jaw feathers as he unhappily tugs Ronin closer. "I suppose it's good you can be in two places at once. Torchline will need someone able to tell knives apart from lighters."
The lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
”Mm, it does,” Ronin says, unable not to agree with his husband; little does he know that it’s his own magic at work, helping to get sense out of Remi. Their combined magics, even. Still, whatever deep and dark works that are at play, the Star still can’t help but selfishly savour this moment for everything he can. The feel of a warm hand over his steadily beating heart, the hum of the Lullaby’s voice against his chest, the silk-soft feathers between his fingers... he never wants to leave.
Letting out a soft laugh that’s muffled by curls, Ronin shakes his head. ”I could never,” he whispers. ”But I’ll make sure that you’re kept safe. And that...” That the world is kept safe from you. It’s not something either of them wants to admit, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
Groaning and winding his arms more tightly around Remi in a clear objection of I don’t wanna, Ronin huffs and drops kiss after kiss over the other man’s hairline, down over his temple and onto his cheeks. ”I will. Because I love you, and because it’s what needs to happen. But I don’t like it.”
"Because I"m so much stronger than you?" Remi wonders with a roguish grin. It's true that he is stronger than Ronin, though that was probably true the last time the huntsman found himself with a then-friend who was wreaking havoc on the world. "I'm sorry to put you in this position again." He adds soberly, the wing across the Star's chest flaying its feathers to cover more of the man beneath.
"Is time..passing normally, do you think?" Glancing up at a sky filled with stars that twinkle and shine with every breath the pair takes, the Lullaby can't help but wonder about the metaphysics of this strange non-reality they find themselves in. "How do we know it isn't already morning? Or late morning? Or afternoon?" If there was a world out there, moving on with a madness running through it, they couldn't just sleep away the day and pretend it didn't matter.
You have to go, Ronin. The Lullaby's eyes sadly say, even as his hands and feathers wrap ever more tightly around the Star to keep him close.
The lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
”So much stronger,” Ronin gushes to his husband, curling up further beneath his wing and grinning to him, running his fingers through his curls. ”For you, I’d do this a thousand times,” he tells him, though he’s not at all prepared to leave just yet, and his pout his almost audible as he buries his face away in Remi’s shoulder. If he can’t see the sorrowful truth in his husband’s eyes, he won’t be able to admit that he has to go.
”We don’t know,” he mumbles, ”and if we keep sailing along like this, we can carry on not knowing until one of us wakes up naturally.” Probably. He huffs and sighs, peering back up at the Lullaby, cupping his cheek to draw close and lean his forehead against Remi’s. ”I’ll see you here again soon,” Ronin promises. ”And I’ll look after you until then. We’ll get through this, you and me. We always do.”
Then he lets himself go, in a way he can’t quite describe, but it makes the world warble and melt around them. Slowly, he feels himself pull away from the dream. He’ll spend his next stint of wakeful time holding onto this, to get him through.
