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!
It’s the best sleep Finn has had in longer than he can remember. And he can’t really remember much, in the sea of sedatives upon which he bobs and drifts. The drugs take away his dreams, putting a firm barrier between his subconscious and the teeth that want to sink into it, releasing him only enough to let his eyes flicker and peep open. The smell of the room is comfortingly sterile, though the glare off the white walls makes him squint.
Finn is clean and warm, in a hospital gown and tucked into a bed much smaller than the one he’s used to being in. Luckily, he has neither the energy nor the inclination to go thrashing about; blinking up at the ceiling through glazed eyes, shifting marginally to try and get his bearings. There’s something wrong with his hand, the Spyglass feeling like he should wriggle his fingers, but everything feels too heavy.
09-17-2020, 06:14 PM (This post was last modified: 09-17-2020, 06:37 PM by October.)
October
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
You're in the chair next to Finn's bed, a book in your hands, and wonder upon wonders, normal clothes. For you that just means legging and a sweatshirt, but it's a rare sight indeed for you to wear anything other than your scrubs. But this was an intentional choice: you overstepped with Finn earlier in his apartment, acting as both doctor and friend and doing neither well. Besides, with his hand bandaged up there's nothing else you can do for him; any magical intervention would be clear at this point, and you can't unbandage the hand to sprinkle shavings of your horn on it without it being suspicious. So Finn will just have to heal the old fashioned way.
As for you? Well. You're going to have to do better.
You let your emotions get the better of you and it clouded your judgement. You let some strange version of pride make you believe that you could take care of Finn better than anyone else, and so you squirrelled him away and look how that has gone. So as Finn blinks himself into consciousness, you put your bookmark on the page you just finished and turn toward him with a soft smile. "How are you feeling?"
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
Tobi’s voice reaches him like she’s calling through a wall, though the sound of it makes a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. Finn doesn’t remember getting to the clinic. The last thing he remembers is the shooting pain in his hand, is feeling like his blood is fire and like there’s nowhere safe in the world. But here...? Finn feels perfectly content here, mumbling something in response to Tobi, but his lips are clumsy.
”...Good,” he manages, his voice little more than a rasp. ”I feel good.” Drugged, he means, almost certainly. ”What’s wrong with my hand...?” He tries to move his fingers again, and there’s a faraway sense of discomfort, but it’s enough to stop his fidgeting. ”You were in my rooms, with me.”
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
He should feel good with the chemical cocktail flooding his veins. It is a relief to hear that he feels the way he should, though. "You had an accident, leaving your room." Not a lie, not the whole truth. If he doesn't remember...well. That's Falke's territory. Do not overstep, October. "We were able to reset the bones. It should heal well, though you're looking at a cast for the next 6-8 weeks at least."
The mention of his rooms has you smiling, though it's a sad smile; a frown that's merely turned the wrong way. "I was, yes. Sorry about that." Your voice has the same dark and rich quality as your hair, low and dark though it is. Your eyes drop to his broken hand, remembering the screams of pain and the careless moments which had proceeded it.
"I'm sorry about a lot of things, Finn." You mumble, reaching a hand to your shoulder to awkwardly shift your sweater.
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
An accident... Finn racks his brain to remember, and hot flashes of agony rise to the surface; a slam of a door, a scream echoing in his ears, a sharp scratch of a needle. He doesn’t flinch away from the memories so much as he lets them go, allowing them to float back into the rippling deep of his unconscious. His brow furrows a bit to hear that his hand is broken and that he’s looking at a cast for weeks upon weeks, before he offers a smile to Tobi that takes years off him with how sunny it is. ”No, thank you,” he says, like declining the cast is as easy as declining the offer of a drink.
Finn’s head lolls to the side so he can see her a little better, stormy eyes unfocused through the mess of his curls. ”You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he mumbles. ”You kept me safe,” That’s how it feels, at least. It feels like the world was snapping at his heels, and Tobi staved it off for a while.
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
You bite back the quick retort that wants to surface; perhaps one of your demigod friends can heal it. It wouldn't be said sarcastically either. Finn now has friends in high places, unhealthy as they might be. It's possible that someone might be able to undo the damage Finn has done to himself (because of you, a small voice adds), but you say none of this for fear of agitating him once again.
"Not safe enough." You whisper, turning slightly to get a better look at him, wondering how you ever thought you were up to the task of Finn. "I need you to know, Finn..." Trailing off, you sigh slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before giving your apology another go. "Doctor Guildenstern is going to oversee your recovery, for the next little while. I think he has a better sense of what you need." You swallow. "I overstepped, Finn. I became the Dorian, in your apartment." You say this in a whisper, wanting desperately to smile at the memory of easy banter with Finn just the day before, but the harsh pin-pricks of tears keep your lips from doing so. "I'm so sorry, Finn."
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
Even if he did become agitated, there is very little that Finn might do in his current state to cause any issues. This is only evidenced as Tobi continues to speak, the Spyglass blinking slowly as he tries to understand through a fog of medicine. He’s in no condition whatsoever to really comprehend her apology, let alone accept it, but to hear that Falke is overseeing him from here on out, whilst not all that surprising (the Fixer has been his minder for as long as he can remember), has him bemused.
”But you are still here,” he remarks, as though what she’s saying doesn’t gel with what’s happening right now. ”...I don’t see how you think that, either. I don’t... know what I need, half the time.” He smiles lopsidedly. ”So I don’t know how he will know. But... you don’t have to say sorry to me.”
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
You nod, then look down at your sweater as evidence of what capacity you're here, in. "As a friend." You add, knowing that clever as Finn might be, he might not be able to put the pieces together as easily as he normally can.
Drawing up one foot onto the chair so that you can wrap your arms around it and rest your chin on your knee, you watch Finn through the curtain of your thick bangs. "But I should. That's my job." You point out softly. One you didn't do very well.
"You deserve to be treated well..." Medically, emotionally, physically. "...and you deserve an apology when that doesn't happen." You argue with a skewed smile, interlocking your fingers behind your calf as if that will help to root you in these uncertain waters.
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
He is also caught on the sight of her sweater, as if suddenly realising in his fevered mind that he has never seen Tobi out of scrubs or other hospital clothing. It surprises him, the way it makes him relax further into the bed, though it also ties his tongue in knots. Finn isn’t sure how to treat friends - apparent, from his stellar job thus far - and so he loses himself in the play of lights across the ceiling, in the sound of her voice.
”If that’s true,” he says, his voice slurring a little, ”then the apology shouldn’t be coming from you.” Stormy eyes flicker shut, a brief wave of pain twisting his expression that has nothing to do with his hand or his fever. ”You’re a good one.”
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
You don't have to be my friend, Finn. Just because I'm yours. You'd remind him, were you privy to his line of thinking. As it is you're doing your best not to reach over for his chart, not to assess his vitals, not to see him as a patient in a bed who needs your attention. He's just Finn. The man you went to school with, the man you serve in the Order with. Not a problem to be fixed. Just. Finn.
"You are too." You say with a genuine smile. One of your hands' twitches, thinking you'd reach over to squeeze his reassuringly. But on the left side of the bed as you are, it's his broken hand which is nearest to you. Still, that gives you an idea.
"Can I sign your cast?"
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
”No,” he says softly, with a careful roll of his shoulders. ”I’m just a one. Not good or bad.” Which is probably for the best, given his thoughts sometimes. Perhaps one day the scale will tip one way or another, but for now it’s a safe in between. At the suggestion - that she sign his cast - Finn peels his eyes back open in wonder. He lifts his arm, both surprised and not to see that it’s covered in white plaster.
He tries to wiggle his fingers again (predictably) and he grumbles at another twinge of discomfort. ”If you want to,” he says, smirking. ”As long as you don’t draw anything crude on it. Lucky for me I prefer my right hand.” And he waits, eyes locking on hers, for the filthy comment he’s all but come to expect from her.
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
"Maybe it isn't up to you." You say with a small crinkle of the skin around your nose, smiling happily up at Finn which similarly causes laugh lines around your eyes.
Watching as Finn raises his arm, you turn in your chair to grab a marker from the drawer. "I do indeed want to. It's why I asked." You sass back brightly, reaching for his arm. Pausing as your eyes lock, you tilt your head to the side, long lashes fluttering behind a wall of dark bangs: the picture of innocence. "Prefer your right hand for what, Finn?" You wonder, before grinning mercilessly.
You don't sign his cast, so much as you doodle. Writing down the chords he'd sung to you the day before while he was trying to distract himself, you sketch out the accompanying piano keys, colouring in the three notes of each chord required. It takes a moment or two, and though you are a doctor, your handwriting is impeccably neat and precise. "There!" You exclaim, stepping back to reveal your work. Having blocked your progress with your shoulder as you drew, you proudly place the lid back on the pen, dark eyes rising to Finn's face to see what he makes of your work.
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
”Perhaps it isn’t. We do serve gods, after all,” Finn agrees, though he doesn’t really know what he’s agreeing to any more. What he does know is that the gods are parading across the ceiling like the shadows from a carousel lamp (which is also something he might have just made up), and he’s lost in it while Tobi grabs a marker to doodle all along his arm. Finn can’t feel it, forgetting instantly that it’s in a cast, up until the moment she’s finished.
He lifts his arm, grinning at her and tutting under his breath. ”For tuning my guitar,” he tells her, his voice low and tired and somehow still infinitely amused. Apparently sedation awakens Finn’s sense of humour. Who knew? Still, he grows thoughtful as he considers the chords, the piano keys, music travelling the length of his cast. ”I love it,” he says softly, earnestly.
let me see you through 'cause i've seen the dark side too.
"Ahh, of course." You say with a crooked smile, shaking your head. You wish that there was a card you could have brought Finn—or balloons—that said Sorry for making sex jokes to a former forced-sex-worker (but pithier, of course). Since no such thing exists, you merely hold Finn's gaze for just a moment, wondering when you became such a blundering fool.
"I'll teach you, once you can walk yourself out of here." You say, blushing, but not because of the praise. But because Finn seems genuinely content in that moment, and it feels like all you've ever wanted is finally within reach. "It takes far fewer muscles than it does to form chords on a guitar." You add, not wanting Finn to think you're implying he won't ever play his own instrument again.
"Mm, no you might not have. Though if you're here long enough and I ever manage to make it home, you might. The walls aren't terribly thick, and I live just a few rooms down."
When the night falls on you & you don't know what to do Nothing you confess could make me love you less
