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!
”The Climb, then. Do tell me how it went.” Especially given that the cook had all but taken off without saying a fucking word to the rest of the crew. Not that Jack particularly cares when they are on shore leave, but fuck if it isn’t the title of this thread. The smuggler strolls across the bright sands, revealed now that the tide is out. In the distance the Hale Ka’Aila glitters and sparkles in the sunlight, and Jack peeks over the bridge of his sunglasses to see it better.
The captain has foregone a shirt in the LongHeat weather, though it’s tucked in the back of his pants just in case. And whilst he may look utterly unremarkable next to Saiden and his 18 6-pack, their skin is of a similar bronze colour. The sun has lightened his dark hair with streaks of copper, as well, though if he gives a flying fuck about his appearance, it doesn’t show. ”The sickness. How bad’s it?”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
10-04-2020, 03:59 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2020, 03:59 PM by Saiden.)
just take your time wherever you go
Saiden scratched at his chest, fingers tugging at the hairs there. Like Jack, the cook was shirtless, but unlike the captain the Hali's shirt was nowhere to be seen. He was barefoot as well. In fact, other than a skimpy pair of shorts and a belt that held a cutlas he was entirely unclothed.
The Climb hadn't been his favorite. And he'd looked for Jack to say something, but the captain had been scarce and time had been of the essence. Admittedly, Saiden hadn't looked that hard. "Hot. And not the fun kind of hot." He shrugged. "Lava and ash. We found some water that kinda worked though."
He followed the other man across the sand, toes digging into the dunes. Lacking sunglasses, the cook lifted one hand and shaded his eyes, peering at the nearby structure. "Bad. Especially for business." He sighed, shaking his head slightly.
Jack grunts his agreement about the sickness being bad for business, fishing a cigarette and a box of matches out of his pocket and striking up. ”Luckily for us, though, we ain’t just doin’ business with people who walk on land. S’why I brought you along.” His boots sink into the sand, both wet and dry, and he hops over a small pool of seawater to continue the way to the little glass cathedral.
Drawing deeply on the cigarette, he huffs out the smoke and glances back at Saiden. ”So the Climb ain’t recommended sailin’, is what I’m hearin’.” Given the fact that it’s not got much, if anything, in the way of water. They arrive at the structure soon enough, and Jack sinks to one knee to inspect the sand around it. ”If you spot a smuggler’s mark, let me know.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Saiden eyed the cigarette but didn't comment on it. Instead, he just chuckled at Jack's explanation for the cook's presence. "And here I was thinking it was my charming personality and pretty face." Stepping around the puddle, he grinned.
Actually shuddering at the thought of a very flammable boat in a very fiery environment, he shook his head. "Nah. Don't even joke about that. It'd be like sailin' the Apopo." He grimaced at the reminder of the eruption. "It's not much good for anything if ye ask me."
Nodding at the instructions, he headed to the other end of the small building from the captain. Resisting the urge to ask the other man which mark, since presumably Jack would've said if it was important, the Hali sank down into a crouch as he examined the sand. However, a thought struck him and he glanced up at the captain. "Hey, how do ye feel about our third Governor in what, a year?" Snorting, Saiden turned his attention back to the search.
”Don’t flatter yourself - I’ve seen more personality in your soup,” Jack shoots back at the cook, hunting around himself for any sign of a mark - any sign that someone has been here, where one normally wouldn’t be. ”Ain’t your pretty face I’m interested in, it’s your overinflated muscles.” Drawing again on the cigarette, Jack sits back on his heels and takes a second to squint up at the sky, as if tracking invisible stars overhead.
He pulls a face at Saiden’s description; it’s apt enough to make the captain shrink back from the idea, even without feeling the cook’s distaste for the place. Mention of the third Governor sours his mood further, and Jack rises to his feet and stretches. ”I feel like I backed the wrong horse” he grumbles. ”Helped to put a man on top and all he’s done is fuck around and leave. I’ve a mind to have a word with the new one.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Grinning, Saiden shrugged at Jack's comment. "I'll take that as a compliment. I put a lot of effort into my soup." Whistling a few snippets of a sea shanty, the cook waggled his eyebrows at the captain. "So ye are just using me for my body." Chuckling, the Hali shook his head.
Staying close to the ground, he glanced up as the other man stood. "Let me know if ye want my overinflated muscles during that word, yeah?" Saiden looked down again, peering at a series of strange squiggles on the sand. Unfortunately, it looked like the tide or an errant wave had gotten to it.
"Found it," he called out. Then he scratched the back of his head. "Or I found something, at least."
”Don’t mean it ain’t bland,” Jack retorts, though it’s throwing shade for the sake of it at this point. Directing his gaze back at the glass cathedral, he lets his feet meander over to Saiden as he calls that he’s found something, though as he sees it’s written in the sand, he wrinkles his nose. ”Nah, that ain’t it. But that might be.” he nods to Saiden’s left, were a smuggler’s mark shines clear, carved into the structure.
Tsking under his breath, he nods at the idea of bringing Saiden along for the word he plans to give the new Governor, whoever it happens to be. ”Your body’s more use’n your face or your chatter,” he points out, nodding to the sand. ”Start diggin’.” Stepping back, Jack exhales another stream of smoke and shoves his hands in his pockets. ”Should find a box, when you’ve dug deep enough.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Saiden frowned, maybe even pouted at Jack's assessment. The cook took any criticism of his cuisines quite, quite seriously. Almost deadly seriously. "It's not. But tell me what spices ye want for next time." As the cook waited for the captain's response, the Hali put his hands on his hips.
Glancing over at the etching on the cathedral, he nodded. Not bothering to stand up, he scooted across the sand towards the spot the other man indicated. Saiden reached up with one hand and mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. "As long as I'm being used." Grinning, he reached down with both hands and started digging. When the sides started crumbling in as he did he used just a touch of air magic to blow the grains out of the way.
Satisfied that he’s hit a nerve, Jack can only offer the cook a shit-eating grin for his trouble, arms folding across his scarred chest. ”The soup’s fine, Hali. Let’s just get this done and get back to the shade.” And the Hanged Man for drinks, with any luck. He stands back and watches as Saiden starts to dig, finishing his cigarette and flicking the butt away into the sands.
Soon enough the cook will find what Jack means, his hands grazing against a small box, roughly the width of his chest. It’s heavy - hence why Saiden is there - but the captain steps forward for this bit at least, helping to heft it out of its sandy prison. ”Mers always come through,” he grumbles, shoving the chest across the sand out into the open.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Still frowning, Saiden shook his head. "Bland is not fine," he muttered. His mind was already running through the ingredients he'd used last time, racing ahead to substitute in spices that he could use next time. As he did, he continued to work, though he paused as his hands met the buried trunk.
Shifting to excavate the outer edges of the chest, he took his side when Jack took the other and heaved it out of the ground. The cook grunted at the weight of it. Glancing at the captain, the Hali arched an eyebrow. "How'd they even get this in the ground? I've never seen one out of the ocean." His brow furrowed as he considered the problem, though he moved easily enough, following the other man's shoving.
Jack wants to make a quip about Saiden choosing to fix his soup over his personality, but he instead focuses on the trunk they’re shoving between them. ”Shipwrecks,” he says through a grunt. ”They weight ‘em down with stones, hide our trades in there. I buried this a week or so back. Any luck, my shit’ll be gone and there’s will have taken its place.” Pausing once the trunk is out in the open, Jack straightens up and huffs out a few breaths, kicking the thing for good measure.
”You’d be amazed, the shit that mers want.” Leaning in, Jack cracks open the trunk and stands back, already sweating from the heat and the exertion. Within the box are a few predictably weighty stones, and a few items wrapped in wet rags. Among them are opalescent pearls on strings, vials of squid ink, shark fangs, and a lot of jewellery that also looks like it’s gone down with a ship. Jack nods, reasonably satisfied. ”It’ll do. Take your pick, Hali. You earned your share.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Saiden shook his head at Jack's explanation. "No I get that. I meant, y'know, physically how do they get the chest buried." Frowning, the cook tried to envision a merperson crawling across the sands, tail flopping, and digging out the chest. Then he shrugged, figuring they used magic for it. Or maybe he was overthinking this and missed something in the other man's explanation.
Rocking back, Saiden rose to his feet once the trunk was in place. Arching an eyebrow at the captain's comment, the Hali grinned. "Yeah? Like what?" Peering into the box of treasures, however, his smile slipped away.
Lifting up one of the pearls, he rubbed it against his teeth. Scowling at the sensation that he knew was wrong, he picked up a diamond ring with a gold band. Flicking the gem and holding it up to the light, he moved to bite down on the metal.
As soon as he did, he spat. "Ye do realize most of this is fake, right" Pawing at his tongue, he tried to get the taste of lead coated with gold paint out of his mouth.
At Saiden’s further questions, Jack raises his eyebrows at the other man. ”Well, call me ludicrous, but I imagine they bury it when the tide’s in,” he says, gesturing around at the puddles and the wet sand. ”Tide come in, water go up, Hali,” he reminds him with a rough clap on the shoulder, before turning back to the treasures in the box. ”Yeah?” he says about the quality of the goods.
”Be that as it may, some of this shit ain’t. But congrats, you can keep your gold-painted trash.” Leaning in, Jack takes out a particularly jagged looking shark tooth, and a large opal. He holds it up to the light, satisfied, and pockets it. ”Ain’t bad for a few bottles of liquor and some dried fruit.”
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Smiling with a slight flush, Saiden nodded. "Oh, right. That makes sense." He glanced out at the water, which was indeed creeping further up onto the sands. When Jack clasped the cook on the shoulder he returned the favor by punching the captain (gently) in the arm.
Tucking the counterfeit items a small pouch at his waist, the Hali's fingers hovered over the rest of the offerings. Eventually, he snagged a vial of squid ink. Uncorking it, he sniffed it and nodded when he confirmed it was the real deal. Grinning as he sealed the vial again, he slid it into his pocket. There were some amazing dishes he could make with the ink. "Definitely worth it."
Gesturing at the chest, he raised his eyebrows. "Close 'er up and haul 'er in cap'n?" He started kicking the sand they'd disturbed back into the hole, trying to erase every trace of their presence there. The tide would do most of the work, but he figured he'd give it a hand. Or a foot, in this case.
