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!
Perhaps it’s his conversations with October, about Attuning, about gods, about... everything that has brought Finn here tonight. Or maybe it’s the clarity and peace of mind which has him wanting to express his thanks. He might even just want to get out of the Tower and out from under Cian’s purview for an hour or so.
Either way, his feet bring him to the shrine in the Celestine, the Spyglass walking under twilight with his offering. It’s the same for every deity, and it has been since he has been old enough and wise enough not to turn away from gods.
Slipping the guitar from his back, Finn sits himself before the statues and begins to play; a rolling, melancholic tune that rings out of the temple, that brings a smile to his lips and sets his eyes to closing.
With so many favoured in one place, fickle spirits tend to leave you alone. You cannot be cursed when visiting a shrine by a spirit. (In order to use this, make sure to note the ability at the bottom of each shrine post).
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
She appears like moonlight on the water; soft, gradual, mystical. In her hands is a violin created from a deep violet wood that looks nearly black in the softness of twilight. Her fingers manipulate a bow upon its strings, expertly adding to the sorrowful melody that Finn's own hands produce. Her notes slip seamlessly and delicately between his at first, like fingers fitting into another's for the first time. Soon though she plays as an equal.
Should Finn open his eyes at any point, he will find that Safrin's eyes are closed, her body turned slightly away from him as if she is reluctant and shy to play with him at all. She rocks back and forth with the notes they play, sometimes in tandem, sometimes in harmony, and sometimes in an exquisite dissonance that releases itself with all the relief and pleasure of an orgasm. Unlike the lavish gowns she wears for others—the lace or leather—tonight she is dressed in a muted stone-lavender, the contours of her body mostly hidden beneath the cloth, though her shoulders are bare. It is warm out, after all.
At her side silently sits a barn owl, far larger than its naturally occurring kin. With eyes as black as pitch, it watches Finn with a soft predatory interest. If it takes any interest at all in the rise and fall of the melody it gives absolutely no sign.
With the rainbow of torments that regularly colour his thoughts, his sight, his hearing, it’s no surprise for Finn to think he has imagined the accompaniment, at first. The notes that slide beneath his own like silk, the caress of strings that strike a harmony with his fingers... it is only as he realises that he could not have composed something so perfect and ethereal that he blinks his eyes open.
And his breath catches in his throat, his hands stuttering against the guitar ever so slightly to spot the visitor in the shrine. And he knows the goddess instantly - Finn is from Stormbreak, so of course he does - and he manages to pick up the melody again enough to wind it down. With stormy eyes flicking from goddess to barn owl, he finds himself wanting to speak but both having nothing good to say, and a mouth so dry he might struggle regardless.
”That was beautiful,” he remarks eventually, once his own notes have faded. ”Thank you for playing with me.”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
That Finn stumbles over the chords fills the goddess with a perverse sense of delight; she does so love to be the reason that men find themselves breathless and trip over their own feet. Or fingers, in this case. But unlike with others, Safrin keeps these thoughts to herself. For Finn she appears youthful, though not too young. Virginal, but perhaps not naive. It is a different portrayal to the very sensual virgin-character she revealed herself as to Ronin once many months before but shares a family resemblance. For Finn she is not someone in need of saving, nor a saviour. She's caught somewhere in between; dangerously even, he might think of her nearly as an equal.
'And you.' She replies in a voice like lilac woodsmoke, her dark eyes rising almost shyly to his face as she hugs the violin to her chest. "Its been so long since I've had the opportunity to play like that. I should be thanking you." Safrin adds with a star-smudged smile.
That a goddess could be grateful to him is so quaintly far-fetched that Finn even finds himself smiling about it. It’s the sort of smile that suggests he must be dreaming, that this didn’t just happen and he’s all tucked up in bed at home. Still, he manages a soft inhale and a nod of appreciation, lowering the guitar and trying to find his words again. ”I wasn’t aware that you enjoyed music,” he admits, fully aware that he’s painfully mistaken by the mere sight of her.
The owl steals his attention again for a second, Finn unsure if it has arrived with Safrin or not (but it must have - a creature so large could not be found simply travelling the skies, surely). Holding onto his guitar because he has little else he might do, the Spyglass get to his feet and offers a small bow, head inclining with respect for the lady of the stars.
”I confess, I came only to pay my regards to the gods,” he admits. ”I ask for no blessing, nor to I expect anything from you.”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
09-29-2020, 11:46 PM (This post was last modified: 09-29-2020, 11:51 PM by Safrin.)
Safrin
"I enjoy a great many things that you don't know about." She corrects him with a slow and gentle smile that dazzles the corners of her eyes, though not with innuendo.
As Finn stands, Safrin shakes her head, tutting softly under her breath. "Entirely unnecessary, though I appreciate the gesture." She coos softly, stretching out her hand that he might sit with her again. Closer or where he had been, it was up to him. The owl at her side watches all of this wide unreadable eyes, though if one were to look closely, there are galaxies in its fractured stare.
"Oh no?" Safrin hums, her particularly coy brand of mischief crinkling the corners of her mouth as her fingers softly pluck at the strings of her violin, making rather enticing sounds, like musical raindrops. "Perhaps you didn't expect anything outright. But what about deeper down?" She pauses, studying him cheerfully for a moment. "Or are your intentions always simply to placate us?"
”Ah, of course.” There must be eons of things that mortals don’t know about, and Finn wonders, however briefly, what it would be like to view Safrin with his glasses. He tries not to linger on that for long, though - he has lost the spectacles, and for as much hardship and torment that they caused him, he can’t deny that he misses them. Then again, it wouldn’t be getting better if everything problematic was so readily available, would it?
He doesn’t know what to make of the gesture to seat himself again, but the Spyglass (obviously) doesn’t decline, and he sinks back down where he was previously, his guitar in his lap. He isn’t looking at the owl, his eyes on Safrin as she continues. Finn frowns as he thinks, and there’s something like shame in his expression when he finally does speak again.
”For you, I suppose... I would ask for forgiveness,” he says quietly. ”When I was a child, I stole from one of your temples. Everything was returned when I was caught, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.” And scars on his back.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
Gently the goddess listens. Whether she's already plucked this information from his mind already or whether or not she's hearing it for the first time is impossible to know. Her dark gaze is a sea of sadness, lamenting the boy who felt he had no other options but to steal, but her lips smile softly for the man before her with the strength to ask forgiveness. "Had I been here at the time and not the Grounds, I would have saved you from that. Perhaps it is I who should be apologizing to you." And gods how she says this as if it might be true. As if a goddess might cry the pardon of a mortal like Finn.
Her cheeks even seem to flush with contrition.
"I would give you all the gold in the world to make up for it now, should that be what you seek. I could remove all the lines of pain from your body, and yet...somehow I think you would decline." Nearly, she reaches for him. But he is not tempered yet. Not sufficiently relaxed.
"Allow me to make it up to you. Though that taste might yet remain in your mouth, perhaps there is some symbol of my forgiveness I could offer you?" But what would be useful to a Spyglass who no longer sees? "An instrument that always remains in tune, and can harmonize with your playing? Or perhaps guitar strings that can coax the world around you into life?"
Always easy to lead, Finn allows himself the faintest of smiles, as if he can imagine a life where he might have been pardoned or saved, or even prevented from needing to break the law in the first place. He steals a glance at the goddess, catching the merest flush in her cheeks before his gaze is lowering again, Finn taking sudden interest in his guitar.
His response is predictable and Safrin has the right of it - gold was never his goal in stealing from Safrin’s temple (food, though, that had been infinitely precious), and he has spoken before, about ridding himself of his scars. It would not remove the hurts that caused them, so what would be the point?
She continues, though, and draws his eyes back up, stormy gaze filled with something curious - interested, even. ”Strings that can coax the world into... life?” he echoes, his fingers absently plucking along the existing guitar strings. ”I don’t deserve anything like that. It’s enough to know that I won’t be haunted by my mistake.”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
"Mmhmm. Our playing here, for example. With the sort of strings I have in mind, perhaps the leaves and grasses would sway with you. Perhaps the air might darken or still to create a moon inspired by your melodies."
Finn's mild self-criticism has Safrin shaking her head. She doesn't chuckle or tutt at him under her breath, though that's the reaction some might have. This isn't a play for attention from the Spyglass, but a genuine belief on his part. "Well, you know the old saying that you get what you deserve? In your case you've got a great many things you haven't deserved. So perhaps it's time we balance the scores, mmm? Let you have something you don't deserve?"
Normally getting something you don't deserve is not a nice thing. But must it always so?
Finn is already looking up and around them, like he can imagine the star spangled moonlight he might conjure with his playing. The sorts of stories he tells with his music are beyond words, but with the ability to alter the world around him, perhaps some kind of understanding might peek through. Whether the Spyglass wants people to understand is another matter entirely, but he’s still smiling as he glances back to Safrin.
”It sounds remarkable,” he admits, though his fidgeting belies his uncertainty. Still, the goddess makes a compelling point, hard as it is to hear, and his smile fades by degrees into something more like sad acceptance. A gift like the one she’s offering doesn’t sound like a thing he should be allowed - and yet, who is Finn to deny a goddess?
He nods slowly, forcing some of the tension to ebb out of his shoulders with a deep sigh. ”It would be something, to make music in that way.” He nods. ”Are you sure there is nothing you want in return?”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
Were it anyone else Safrin would have wrapped herself around Finn by now, her fingers easing away the tension in his muscles. But for the Spyglass she remains where she is, a picture of The Madonna-like beauty. Maternal, gorgeous, safe.
At least for now.
"I could ask you for something if that would make you feel more comfortable? Make it seem less of a gift and more of a trade?"
Finn chews at the inside of his cheek, nodding again at Safrin’s suggestion, seeming to find further safety in the idea of a mutual trade. ”What would you want from me?” he asks, and were she any other way - were she any other incarnation of the lady of the stars that he’s seen - Finn might have felt in deep water at the prospect. There’s only two things people have ever wanted him for - his glasses and his body. He doesn’t possess one, and the other? He’s not sure what will happen.
”I would like to trade. It seems more fair, that way.” Receiving a gift - receiving an apology - for something that had earned him time at the Needle? It wasn’t easy to accept. This was as close as it got, for Finn.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
Indeed there are so many things Safrin wants from Finn, but she's orchestrated everything so well thus far that she won't ruin it by showing her hand too soon. "Do you think you could...look after Artemide for me?" At the sound of its name, the owl turns her head nearly a full circle to peer up at Safrin. "She...has things to do here. Or to learn, more precisely. She requires very little care and will hunt for her own food. The majority of the time she'll stay with you unless she sees something of interest. But she isn't used to the weather down here, and will require somewhere inside to sleep."
Safrin smiles down at the creature, reaching out to softly stroke her feathers.
"And of course, she's very quiet. Which should be helpful in your line of work."
