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!
Remi leaves and Finn is trapped, walled into a room he does not recognise with too many memories and walls that boil with heat. In reality, of course, he is only walled within his nightmares, caged in a night terror that he’s too feeble to escape.
At least until it finally becomes too much - the Spyglass gasps in a breath that feels like knives in his throat, eyes peeling open to stare, glazed, up at the closed skylight. He’s soaked in sweat, having kicked the blankets off himself some time ago, his curls plastered to his forehead.
Even though it hurts, his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath and slow his heart rate, not that it does much good. ”I didn’t mean to,” he wheezes, his lips cracked and dry, a shiver racking his body. ”Gods, I swear I didn’t mean to.”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
You're on your feet instantly. Finn has slept for a solid day and a half now. For the most part he was silent and almost peaceful looking. You'd considered waking him for food, but other than his delirious walks to the bathroom and back, you've mostly let him be thinking perhaps his body knew what it was doing. When he started sweating again you'd done your best to keep him bundled up, but hoping that it might help his fever break, you let him fight through it. Whether or not this was a mistake you've yet to uncover, but now that he's awake perhaps you might get some answers.
At this side only moments later, your hands are on his cheeks to still his flailing. "Finn, it's me. You're at home, in bed. Everything is alright." You say in a soft and reassuring voice.
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
He’s shivering - hard - and the touch to his cheeks is something he craves more than water, and that’s saying something. ”Tobi,” he whispers, his eyes almost rolling back in his head as he groans something incoherent, trying to focus. His body wants to seize up, he can feel it like an itch in his teeth, but he simply doesn’t have the strength. ”Everything doesn’t feel alright,” he says, his voice tight with pain.
Moments of lucidity are few and far between, and especially now, the Spyglass almost wishes he didn’t realise where he was and how he got there. ”How long...?” he wants to know, reaching up with cold and clammy fingers to brush them over the back of her hand, unsure if he’s still dreaming. His dreams start out sane sometimes, before it goes downhill.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
"That's Doctor Hart, to you." You reply back playfully as if Finn has just woken from a regular dream, and not a near-coma. "No, and it won't for a little while." You glance down his body noting how his muscles are twitching. He'll need to stretch once he's able, but for now it's just good that he's conscious and aware of who you are. "We'll have to get you in for a massage soon." You're basically talking more to add flavour to the room, than for Finn to actually reply to what you're saying. "It's the sort of thing I'm sure you'll love. Having a stranger rub their hands all over you?" Smiling, you reach down to pull up the sheet from where Finn has kicked it down to his ankles.
"Nearly 36 hours." You reply, smoothing away the curls which are plastered to his forehead. "Make you a deal, I"ll give you some water if you can sit up. What do you think?" You ask chipperly, smiling down at him, dark eyes full of misplaced optimism which you'll soon come to realize.
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
She’s chipper enough to bring tears to his eyes, Finn unsure what to do with her cheer and her optimism, her acting like everything is alright. Because gods, he wants to believe it so badly. He wants to roll over and into her arms and sob out every drop of venom that’s infected his dreams and his mind. He wants to empty himself of it all, so maybe - maybe - he can soak up just a bit of her sunshine.
”Gods, please no,” he says of the massage, having the grace to sound dryly repulsed by the idea, though really, it does make him feel a bit sick. As for getting up? He’s still trembling even under the blankets, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering, and his attempts to get his elbows under him are foiled by the weakness in his muscles. ”I can’t,” he says apologetically, though water sounds wonderful in that moment.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
Laughing brightly, happy to have coaxed even a bit of humour from Finn, you nod. "Alright. Well I'll show you some stretches and techniques then. You won't be able to do it all on your own, though." Shrugging at this, you let Finn take it however he chooses. Either he finds someone to help, or he deals with tight muscles.
"I'll help you, if you don't tell." You whisper conspiratorily with a smile. Slinking your arm behind him, feeling the heat and the warmth and the wetness of him, you drop one of your shoulders so that he can wrap it around. "On three, then?" You ask, your face presumably somewhere near his armpit which is bound to smell fantastic at this point.
When you reach three, your fingers tight around his ribs (no longer broken, thankfully), and you press against the bed to try and get his upper back against the headboard. Successful or not, you'll stay where you are; Finn will likely be dizzy from the exertion and you don't want him lolling out of bed, one way or the other.
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
”I think the extent of my stretches right now is lying down,” Finn mutters, a flicker of a smile passing across his face. His tongue feels like sandpaper and his cheeks and chest are on fire with fever - he’s not doing cartwheels any time soon. ”Who would I tell?” he wonders, letting her manipulate him however she likes to try and help him to sit up. Finn is a mess - there’s no getting away from it - and in his brief lucidity he has the decency to feel bad that Tobi has to get so close to him. He doesn’t want to be close to himself right now.
Forcing in a deep breath, he nods and lets her count to three. Gritting his teeth and bracing against Tobi, Finn does manage to scrabble himself into propping up against the headboard. She’s right, though, and the dizziness that makes his vision swim and his stomach churn has him tilting his head against hers, eyes pressing shut. ”I don’t think I have ever been this sick,” he says, sounding worried.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
"That is a fairly decent stretch." You chirp supportively as if it's by choice and not because of the voracious fever that he's currently prone. Chuckling from where you're lodged against Finn's side, you shrug. "Dunno. Someone you pass in the hall? Pssst, Doctor Hart has gone soft, pass it on." You mime in an enthusiastic whisper.
Finn can feel bad all he likes about his body odour and the general condition of him, but you aren't worried about it. You've smelled and touched much worse, and given that you put the Spyglass to be clean, it isn't as bad as it might otherwise have been. "No, you probably haven't been." You agree almost sadly, not wanting to see a patient much less a friend have to endure what Finn is. "I'm sorry you're going through this Finn. We think that there might already be a cure, or at least a temporary way of breaking the fever and everything that comes with it."
Holding tight around him until it feels as though his vertigo might have passed, you reach for the hand of his around your shoulder, and gently put it on his stomach. Sliding your other arm out from behind him, you take a seat next to him on the bed, holding out a glass of water. "Voila." You say of the water, as if it truly is a well-won victory. "Slowly though, or you'll throw it up."
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
”Gone soft? Everyone already knows that Doctor Hart is soft,” Finn says, waiting for the world to rearrange itself behind his eyes so that he can se properly again. His jokes are quiet and contain hardly a fraction of the humour that Tobi is offering, but it’s the most he’s been able to conjure in days. Snug against the pillows, he lets her peel himself away from him and relaxes back against the headboard. It’s pleasant just to be upright, even if he’s feeling like death.
”I’ll take even a temporary fix right now,” Finn whispers, his brow furrowing as he takes stock of himself. He will be skeletal before long, and there’s no telling what further damage is being done with the fever. He reaches for the glass as she offers it, before suddenly flinching back, seeming conflicted. ”I... I don’t want it,” he says slowly, not understanding himself. ”I know I need it, but I... suddenly I can’t...” Finn shakes his head; he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Clarification? Help? Either way, the sight of the water has created a confusion and repulsion in him that he can’t comprehend.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
"What? Nooo." Pushing back the sleeve of your scrubs to reveal your upper arm, you flex (nothing happens at all of course), but you pointedly look at Finn just the same. "Rock solid." You say with a proud smirk you absolutely don't deserve. You are soft, inside and out, and you're totally fine with that.
Frowning, though not looking surprised at this sudden reaction from Finn, you sigh softly. "This is one of the symptoms. It's a strange aversion to water, but also a compulsion for it." You explain. "I'd hoped if I could distract you with sitting up and making it some sort of treat, we might bypass this." Your nose wrinkles slightly as you consider what else you might do. "And I could distract you, so you wouldn't necessarily know when it was coming."
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
”I believe you,” Finn says with a completely straight face, raising his eyebrows at the way she flexes her arm. Honestly, their musculature is probably more similar now than he’d care to admit, but rather than lament it, the Spyglass is actually pleased that he’s well enough, for now, to recognise that and feel worried about it. He listens carefully as she speak about the water, still not wanting the glass of liquid anywhere near him at the same time as he wants to throw it down his throat.
”Ice chips,” he says suddenly, words slurring just a little, but that’s more out of dehydration than delirium. ”Make it look like food.” The shard of logic comes from a researcher’s brain, from years of problem solving and conjecture. ”Distractions might work for now, though. I need to drink that. I know I do.” And it’s so frustrating, to also want to smack it out of Tobi’s hands.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
"Someone on this floor must have an ice dragon." You mutter, lips twitching as you try to recall. You're not in the habit of making home-visits, so you're at a loss when it comes to recalling just where and who lives near Finn. Surely someone does; finding out who might be more of a challenge though.
"You don't think you'll be too clever for that?" You wonder sweetly, wishing it was the case. Given how Finn's eyes seem to want to roll around, how a lack of food as made his jawline even more severe, and how with his curls plastered against his head he looks so much older, you think that ice chips probably are going to be able to fool him.
"Well step one, how about you sit on your hands, then." You say, not particularly liking the almost aggressive way he keeps looking at the glass. "Step two, you're going to think of your favourite song..and you're going to tell me the chords of it as it plays in your head. With your eyes closed. But you're going to do it with your mouth open." You won't be able to understand him, but it doesn't matter.
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
”We are in a tower, Doctor Hart.” Finn smiles softly at her - if anyone has an ice dragon on this floor, it can only really be him. Still, he understands her attempt to investigate the possibility, and the fact that he can do that much means the world right now. ”I wasn’t clever enough not to get sick,” he points out, tilting his head at the sudden and strange instructions she gives him.
He should be too clever to figure out the ruse, too, but it’s clearly not the case right now. Finn complies, having to slouch further against the headboard to sit on his hands, head tilting gratefully back to rest against the wood. His eyes slip shut, blocking out the glass of water, Tobi, the room around them. And he can hear his favourite song already in his head, lips parting to recite the chords like a hymn. His fingers want to play them, too, and he tries to remember where his guitar is. Perhaps he can find it, and play for real.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
when the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
"Listen, you." You scold playfully. "I've never been up here, at the top before. Forgive me for forgetting." On the first floor of the Tower where the medical center is, there are loads of people and offices and rooms. It actually surprises you a bit to realize that...it's just the two of you up here. The Tower isn't really a place you're ever alone, but here, in this spire, you get the sense you might be.
"Let's not talk about that now." You say, swallowing against a knot of uncertainty which has become a lump in the back of your throat.
Watching Finn as he leans back, hands nestled beneath him, spouting off letters, you can't help but wish there is more you can do. There is more you could try, but now that Finn is awake, it's much too dangerous. Though you trust him, you don't trust him to keep his eyes closed while you shifted. He'd look when he heard the creaking boards when he sensed the sudden changed in the space around the two of you when he felt your horn against him. Waiting until he got around to another A chord so that his mouth was wide, you trickle a small stream onto his tongue from above, making sure that it was only a small mouthful and nothing more.
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
