Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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09-06-2020, 08:37 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2020, 08:50 PM by Odd.)
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
A physician before you're anything else, your fingertips echo on Finn's side as you slowly edge him away from the stairs. It's a gentle correction, soft enough even for the bruised ribs he might have. You know well the want to burrow and hide away from the world after experiencing whatever is that Finn has, but cleanliness won't just make him feel better. It will help keep him better.
You give him a look from your place under his shoulder as you feel him want to brace, the gesture short-lived. "It isn't like I've not seen you naked before." You chuckle under your breath, thinking his pause having something to do with realizing what the shower will entail. "But I was going to give you a towel anyway." You add, and had there not been signs of unseen wounds beneath his clothing, you'd have nudged him playfully for his worry.
"Is that why you don't go to the Falling, either?" You've both sort of casually mentioned a dislike of water in the past, and while you're always eager to learn more about this strange friend of yours, it feels unfair to pry into his infection-ridden mind. "No barrels here, I promise." You all but whisper, swallowing hard and wondering just what sort of hell made Finn into the man he was today.
"They do, yeah. My parents learned about it from some Outlanders they studied. We tried to do it here, but it didn't work as well. But we burned some juniper berries and found a tree that had sap in it. It made loud popping sounds when burned." You remember all of this with a smile that drastically contrasts the cold shiver of Finn's own recollections. "Here." Holding out a towel, you turn your back. "Clothes off, and you can cover yourself with that. Let me know when you're done." It's true that you've seen Finn naked, but the last thing you want is for any discomfort he might feel to settle into the bones of his own home.
09-06-2020, 08:51 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2020, 09:04 PM by Finn.)
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”I don’t care about being naked,” Finn mumbles, though his tongue won’t work the words to tell her that it’s the streams of water that bother him, even more than before. He leans heavily against the side of the tub, accepting the towel only to allow it to pool to the ground once her back is turned, forgetting why he’s holding it in the first place. Soothed as he is by the assurance that there aren’t any barrels in his bathroom - and he takes a long time to look around, just to be sure - he slowly peels off his ruined, once-white shirt.
”No,” he says, able to hear the howling of the Falling, the roar of the geysers in his ears as he tosses the shirt to the ground before them. ”No, I don’t go there because it’s where Ma jumped.” He’s all pale skin streaked with ash, silver scars and black bruises. The feather is still stuck to his side, the wound worried apart with his own fingers, and there’s a few burns and scrapes on him as well, though there’s no way for him to tell Tobi where they’re from.
The rest of his clothes soon follow, Finn imagining the loud popping sounds with a sudden smile, trying to hear them like they might be happening right now. ”That sounds nice,” he says slowly, absolutely forgetting to tell her that he’s naked now. She’ll get bored eventually, right?
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
Rather than comforting, Finn's response just hardens something in the pit of your stomach. It isn't pity; it's far closer to righteous anger that he should be so comfortable naked. You remember early physical reports from when he'd first joined the Order, the sorts of wounds and old scars he'd come in with. You should, though. You want to tell him. We're only friends and even if you're comfortable around me, you should. But you don't of course, only smiling and nodding.
You don't turn. From experience, you know that it can take trauma survivors more time than they think to finally undress. If it's the case that Finn is exploring something either physically or mentally, you're willing to give him all the time it takes to do so. There's no rush. No one knows you're here. "Apparently where they come from, it's...something you do for fun. Build these campfires. When you're out in the wilderness. You sleep under the stars and build a fire for warmth." You say to fill the silence, not wanting Finn to feel awkward.
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”For... Fun?” he echoes, not quite understanding, left stood in the tub examining the trails of dirt and soot that line the creases of his skin, that darken the hair on his arms. ”I don’t think I have ever built a campfire. Not outside in the wilderness.” It sounds like a bizarre thing to do, and Finn is lost in the thoughts about how he would arrange the sticks to light the fire, what the flames might show him. Before he knows it, he’s overbalanced and slumped into the tub, blinking hard.
”What now?” he asks her, as if wondering whether he ought to just lay here in this white room, with rainbows playing at the corners of his vision and a thousand razors in his throat. ”I did this the first day I got here,” he remembers, though it was a long time ago now. ”I’d not been alone in a very long time.”
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
"Maybe if you had been harder to track down I would have seen more wilderness before we came back here." You joke. You normally are like this—quick with a sunny reply and a smile—but you're also using it as a bit of a litmus test to see how much of this conversation he's tracking, and able to follow.
Hearing the sound of Finn's sudden shift in position, you glance over your shoulder doing a double-take, before immediately rushing to the lip of the tub. Your eyes scan him quickly to see if there any fresh wounds, before you bite back a sigh, reaching instead for the towel he's discarded. Placing it over his lap and resisting the urge to try to literally shake some sense into him, you pay the wall of the tub farthest from the tap. "Come lean here." You encourage softly.
"Took a bath?" You wonder aloud, before wishing you'd never started the sentence at all. I’d not been alone in a very long time. It was possible that he'd had to use joint bath-houses, or that cleaning up was part of the price paid. Some who might like to baby him? Or to watch him wash himself? You shiver at the thought.
Reaching for the tap, you turn it on low at first until you can get the temperature right. "You're burning up Finn. I know you aren't going to want this, but it'll have to be colder than normal. Don't hate me for it, alright?"
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”I’m not very good at hide and seek,” Finn says as if in apology, rubbing at his eyes and squinting at the light, humming something incoherent under his breath. ”We jumped into the volcano. How did you find us?” he wonders, distantly remembering Remi, the journey. He wants to spread his arms out like great, wide wings, but succeeds only in flailing a bit as he inches down the wall to where Tobi has indicated.
”Mmm. It was nice,” he says softly, though he’s watching the taps with suspicion now, waiting for the water to turn on and wishing silently that he might sink into the tub, the floor, and out of the Tower entirely, back into the hot embrace of the ashes. When the water does flow, he presses himself further against the tub and hisses a curse under his breath, though any struggles he makes are useless.
”I forgive you,” he says distantly. ”Just don’t rip out my soul please. I just got it back.”
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
"You just need more practice." You reply, thinking at first that Finn's caught a string of rationality. What he says next has you humming a nondescript sound of agreement. You want to frown, and later when recalling all of this to Falke, you'll reiterate Finn's words after a mouthful of wine and the urge to cry you're sure. But for now, you just go along with it. "Ah, the man with the dragon. The one who fell from the sky." Waiting until his back is against the tub where you think he can rest comfortably, you shoot him a crooked smile. "Why a volcano? That seems a funny place to be."
You interpret his slithering away from the water as disapproval of its temperature. "I know, but it needs to be this way. To cool you down." Pretending not to be utterly shaken by his words, you reach for a cloth and dip it under the water. Starting with his legs and feet, you gently wipe the ash from his shins. There are superficial wounds on his knees suggesting that he either fell or knelt very hard, and you can't help but connect it to Finn's past in a way that makes your stomach curdle.
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”More practice,” Finn agrees, fixated on the streams of water now. He sees it as jets of gold and silver, shimmering and bouncing against the bottom of the tub, and suddenly he relaxes, like it’s not water at all. ”You’re magic,” he tells Tobi. ”I went because it was warm. I stayed because we were swimming,” Finn sinks down, by degrees, into the lapping jewels all around him, melting into the tub And resting there. He has no words for how she makes him shine with the cloth, a gentle smile curling across his lips.
”Mm... the other me had it,” he says of his soul. ”Two halves. He was keeping mine, so I had to get clean. I think I pushed him.” He didn’t, but he wishes he had. ”We opened each other, and we fell.” There absolutely shouldn’t be a peaceful expression on his face, but that doesn’t make it any less so. ”Now I have it back. Where do you keep yours, Tobi?”
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
"You hush." You say, shooting him a look over your shoulder. In Stormbreak being called magic wasn't a compliment. You know what he's trying to say of course, but with what you are—the truly magical creature hidden inside of you—you can't help but want to bristle at the words just the same.
Glancing up at Finn has he sinks down into the water, your heart breaks for the innocence of the moment, if only because you know what a rarity it must be for Finn. The worst part? His mind isn't even here to enjoy it. "I thought you didn't like to swim." You counter playfully. His thighs show signs of bruising, but no lacerations. Whatever swimming he was doing had been rough to say the least, and again you can't help but wonder if some echo of his past hadn't manifested itself on that volcano.
"I'm going to move to your stomach now." You warn, interrupting him quickly as you slide yourself to your right. If the concerns in your mind are more than just unfounded fears you should probably do a genital examination as well. Only...you just can't bring yourself to it. It's a weakness on your part that isn't normally present but...well. Maybe you'll work up to it.
"The other you.." You parrot, gingerly running the cloth over his stomach. Mud and grime are so thickly coated you can't even see the skin below, nor any wounds lingering thereupon. You do your best to be gentle, but the cool water doesn't help break down the mud and ash as well as warm water might. So you watch Finn's face to see when your pressure might be too much.
We opened each other and we fell. Gods if that didn't make it sound like you should absolutely be examining the area beneath the towel. "You pushed him so he would give it back?" You wonder, finally spying the mottled feather and frowning at it. Thinking it nothing more than some organic debris, you gently pull it off Finn's side, moving to throw it away.
"I keep mine hidden." You say, thinking of the unicorn that swims in your heart. "Mine is not for others to know about."
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
Were Finn remotely even himself in the moment, October’s concerns about him in that regard might have coaxed a rare laugh from his lips. The closest he has been to anything of that nature was a single, unreciprocated and clumsy kiss from an angel, and she has nothing to worry about when it comes to his genitals. But he’s not himself, and so he focuses instead on the glitter that coats him, on the way she gets rid of the darkness and shadows that have soaked into his skin.
”Okay,” he mumbles, the muscles of his abdomen tightening as she cleans him up, speaking not only of bruising, but of lack of food or water as well. ”I don’t like to swim. I had to do it though Tobi. To get clean. It was important.” He sighs contently at the memory, letting aching eyes close for a moment. ”Mm, the other me. The one with wings, and a star on his chest.” He spreads a dirty hand over the centre of his chest, as if to demonstrate.
Peeling his eyes open as he feels the feather moving away, Finn snatches out a hand to grasp her wrist. ”Don’t,” he whispers, choking on the sudden emotion in his voice. There are clean tear tracks on his cheeks before he knows it, and he shakes his head. ”Please don’t. I tried very hard to get that.” Letting out a shuddering sigh, his strength spent, he slumps back in the bath again. ”Keep it safe, Tobi. Keep it a secret. Don’t tell anyone.” He shakes his head.
09-06-2020, 10:06 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2020, 10:06 PM by October.)
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
Finn's malnutrition aside, it's the wound on his side that you're worried about. It already looks like it's threatening to become infected. Despite the cold water, you can feel the heat emanating from it. "He isn't the other you." You reply, perhaps somewhat more sternly than you mean. Reaching up you move his hands so that the representation of the star is gone. "You're you, and no one else." You repeat. Had you ears which could convey emotion in this form, they'd be pinned back against your skull.
You jump slightly, shocked by how quickly Finn is able to move when he wants to. Your arm braces against his grasp as you turn to look at the gray feather. It's the same nothing-colour Finn's shirt had been, only there is a jagged scar of red up the center of it, where it was pressed against Finn's side. "Is this one of his?" You wonder in a low voice, already knowing the answer.
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
He flinches a bit at her tone, thoroughly cowed by it, dropping his gaze to the water. With every ounce of dirt that’s cleaned away from him, the gold and silver shimmers become dark and filthy, and he feels nausea swirl in the pit of his stomach again.
Finn is malleable as she attempts to move him, though her voice fades into mumbling above the ringing in his ears. By the time he can hear her properly again they’ve conveniently moved onto the subject of the feather. He nods in a jerky motion, barely daring to look at it in case it causes her to discard it because she knows he wants it.
”It hurts,” he tells Tobi softly, though what, precisely, is a mystery. The wound in his side? What she’s telling him? Everything, since he’s gotten back? ”Are we almost done, please?”
Standing in the sunlight laughing, Hiding behind a rainbow's wall
The feather is placed on the edge of the sink, well within Finn's view. Though you want to snap it in half, you don't. It won't do either of you any good right now, and the last thing you need is a naked Finn taking his fever-rage out on you for damaging a feather.
"I know it does Finn." You sweetly say, your dark eyes meeting the stormclouds in his should he look up. "Not quite yet. But you're doing really well. Just a little more, and then bed. How does that sound?"
Moving to his shoulders next, you feel softly with your fingers beneath the cloth to see if there's any swelling or lumps. The glands beneath his jaw are swollen, and you can feel the uneasy pounding of his heart as blood spurts up through his veins. With another smile that's nearly as delicate as Finn's state of mind, you get a new washcloth for his face. Dipping it beneath the running water so that it's fresh, you begin to wipe away the ash from his eyelashes, the grime that has nested itself in the creases by his eyes and lips. It's like wiping away the years, the man below one who threatens to look youthful, but only when his eyes are closed.
You're not okay, Finn. You think soberly. Often you wish there were more attuned here for you to silently commune with, but just now, you're quite glad that Finn can't feel your thoughts.
you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
He doesn’t look up, though that’s of no surprise to the two of them on any given day. There’s a surreptitious glance at the feather on the windowsill and a small nod to accept that he’ll be in the tub for a little longer, before he lets himself drift about her checks, her ministrations, her cleaning away the cleansing he’s received at the volcano. It’s similar to the way she’s seen him withdraw into himself, except rather than careful blankness and obedience, it’s like he has too much on his mind.
”It’s so loud, all the time,” he mumbles, head tilting back so she can feel beneath his jaw, the ash in the stubble that threatens to become a beard coating her fingers. Eyes slipping shut, he lets out a sigh of almost pleasure to feel the cool cloth against his forehead, soothing back a fever that he doesn’t know he has.
”Thank you for this, Tobi.” With his eyes closed and sweet, cool relief radiating across his face, Finn nearly sounds lucid in his gratitude. ”Thank you so much.”
