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!
”Pretty words, for a lie,” Finn growls back, his fingers slipping into Remi’s in a way that is both right and wrong all at the same time, the Spyglass feeling the rush of fire and heat pinwheel around them, spinning the world up and down until he isn’t sure which one of them is the right way up any more. He isn’t even sure that it matters. Remi’s words purr through to him, and a bright and joyous smile lights up his face.
”I’m already holding one,” he says softly, sweetly, and the knife glints in his free hand as he brings it up, as the ocean reaches out to swallow them. He twists, trying to gouge through the scar tissue deep in a chest that is and is not his own. And Finn’s plunging the knife into himself, carving out a place where he can hide, where he can blame the other man for climbing inside him first. For starting it.
09-10-2020, 08:57 PM (This post was last modified: 09-10-2020, 08:57 PM by Remi.)
REMI
the lullaby
& i feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd
'Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
There is no look of surprise in Remi's eyes, which is perhaps the worst part of all. An aim to save though Finn might have had, it was lost long ago. Feathers make sweet the wounds, but the knives must always come first. And they do, time and time again. Much as they both might want it (though do they?), the pair were never meant to fly.
They were always meant to fall.
Wrapping his free hand around Finn, the Lullaby presses the flat of his palm on the other man's back where the knife has stuck through. Scars that match those he only just gave Finn now wriggle out like lightning as blood drips down the Spyglass's spine, beautifully black in the moonlight and the rush of the sea.
The ocean slams against Remi first, the air knocked from his lungs. It's like hitting concrete, and yet still he falls. The moonlight halo's Finn above him, Finn whose curls dance and swim around his face like a halo. With a look of anguish, the Lullaby opens his eyes, unable to discern the sea and the storm from the Spyglass's stare. He opens his mouth to say something, but water rushes in, drowning him. Wide wings sprout from his back, curling up around them both, but not before Remi releases Finn's hand so that he can press it against his chest. The words he meant to say fight for air in the back of his throat as he shoves against the man in his arms, ejecting his soul from his body.
Remi's wings close, a trail of blood bubbling upwards as Finn is once again separated from himself.
Both halves of himself.
& i know that you'll use them, however you want to
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Finn can’t fly yet, and Remi can’t swim. The slam hard into the water, and wings of blood melt into the deep dark from his back, spreading, reaching, searching. It’s okay, Finn wants to say, but he opens his mouth and there’s nothing to breathe but water. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. Is he smiling, still, as feathers close around Remi, around him? The Lullaby shoves him, then, shoves him hard, and he really is soaring.
Remi can have his body. Finn doesn’t need it any more. He tumbles and freewheels, the water all around turning such a beautiful shade of scarlet that he can taste it. Red darkens, then, to black. To pitch, silent, sorrowful black.
Finn hits the ground hard, on his back, gasping in lungfuls of air, coughing and spluttering his way back to the front of himself. There is nothing but darkness all around him. He thinks his back is pressed against something, but what or who, he does not know. ”I am alone,” he announces to the madness. ”And I am alive.”
& i feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd
'Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
Is it enough, these collections of atoms? These broken pieces of a man constantly in flux? Already the body in his arms is heavy and limp, but still he clings to it, wings tightly around him to offer protection.
But the monsters are already inside. They were invited in long ago. You shouldn't be surprised that they've made themselves comfortable.
Reaching for the knife still pinned into Finn's chest, the Lullaby releases it, and with it he lets go of Finn who slowly drifts away. Remi can't tell if he's smiling down at him; is he mouthing a warning? I can't hear you. There is a sudden pull against his leg. It jerks up upwards sharply, his wings snapping down around him, the muscles bending unhappily. He opens his mouth to scream in agony, but the water hushes him with swift and demanding fingers. Up he is pulled, like a fish on a rod until he is free of the water. His wings and body are battered on the cliff-face as he is buffeted about by a wind which is as playful as it is cruel.
When at last he stops, his ankle is bound by a tight cord of rope that digs into the skin. Upside down he gazes through hooded eyes at the rocks below, where he thinks he can make out a figure; a head of curls and the sweetest smile he's ever known.
& i know that you'll use them, however you want to
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
It’s dark here. The world stretches out into infinity on all sides, and tendrils of ink slither and glide, filling eyes and mouths and drowning out the light.
Rolling, heaving, getting knees under a body too heavy and clumsy to comply, the ground shimmers. Like it’s wet. Like it’s greasy. I am alone. And I am alive.
There’s an itch, like something scratching and scrabbling at the back of my neck. I reach back to try and find it, but there’s nothing. And yet it’s there. I can feel it, if only I could carve open my skull to see what is inside. I’m sure I could, too, if only I had something to use. If only I had something like—
