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!
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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!
11-06-2020, 09:43 PM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2020, 09:48 PM by Odd.)
CIAN
"Is that so?" Cian wonders, giving Finn an appraising look. It isn't because he thinks he's a worthy opponent, rather, it's the look one might give a puffed up puppy, its hackles raised in an effort to seem intimidating. "And how effective have your efforts been so far?" The Eye asks, the question only slightly rhetorical, mostly curious.
Now it is Cian's turn to laugh, as Finn tries, desperately, Cian thinks, to prove himself. He can see the hatred in Finn's eyes, and yet still the man persists in trying to build himself up. "The Order has always had an Eye. Not always a Spyglass." Reaching forward, his palm open, Cian looks at the glasses, and then at Finn.
Hand your burden over, his expression sweetly sings. Or stop whining about it.
That Finn does have an answer to, at least. "Currently all demigods I have located have been approached and have agreed to help our cause. The ones we were unable to locate have been confirmed as dead. The Taliesin child I belatedly identified currently resides in StormBreak under the watch of the Order until such a time when she is mature enough to join the cause," he says softly - Cian will know all of this much from his reports, however.
"I identified the sickness spread by the Longheat god, bringing it to the Order's attention. That sickness is now cured, though there are lingering questions regarding the Voice's involvement and the origin of that sickness. Unfortunately I have been unable to do much regarding those investigations, given that I was forbidden from leaving StormBreak." He shrugs. "During my secondment, I used the time to peruse old records from the Archives, organising the names and first appearances of all demigods found close to the war three centuries ago. I've compared them to the names and appearances of all those we have tracked now. The correlation points to the possibility of a second war."
He pauses to sip his wine. "As for this machine, the demigod of Vi is informing others nearby of the situation, that they might prevent this machine from being altered to bring more Ascended into Caido." Aware, suddenly, of the plethora of information that has suddenly spilled out of him, he clears his throat. "But I imagine you already knew that."
The ultimatum is given, though, and a muscle feathers in Finn's jaw. He swallows hard, plucks up the glasses - and for a moment it looks as though they're going into Cian's hands - before they disappear back into his pocket. "The Order hasn't always had a Spyglass," he agrees. "But it has one right now, until you decide otherwise."
"Mmhm, but that was as per my instruction." Cian agrees. Finn's earlier fieldtrip having gone according to plan. His plan. As the Spyglass mentions his lack of information regarding the sickness, the Eye flexes his fingers. "I have the answers to many of those questions." He offers, adding: "Without having left Stormbreak." And how was such a thing possible? Why, it was almost as if Cian was precisely suited for the roll he occupied. As for another war? Blandly, almost, the Eye nods. They have all known another war was coming.
"Ahh, I see. Delegation. Well done." Cian wonders if Finn will find the irony in this. That if Amalia fails in her abilities to warn the others in an appropriate manner, that the same lack of effectiveness might be said of Finn, that the Spyglass said of the Eye. Is this what Finn thought sharing the burden meant? Trickling down tasks to others? And not necessarily to the best candidate: Remi and Finn were at odds, Delphia had hidden herself away in the woods, Ronin and Finn hadn't yet spoken, leaving just Amalia.
Fingers closing around nothing but air, Cian places his hand back in his lap, before thinking better of it and indicating to the bar that he'd like another drink. "Has it? Because right now it feels as though it is trying to have two eyes." As Cian's drink is brought, he leans forward, dexterously rolling the glass between his palms. "Your position within the Order is to see, and to report. That is what you do. Yours are not the fingers that decide what pieces need to be moved where. Yours are not the eyes that see the big picture." So precisely does the Eye speak, his voice so level and composed, that his words sound almost rehearsed. Such has always been Cian's way, to command every situation without even the smallest ruffling of his feathers.
"That is what the Spyglass does. But should you think yourself more useful to.." Cian trails off, shrugging slightly. To Amalia? To thE CauSe? To Safrin? To...Finn? "..by all means. I accept your resignation. Because Finn," Cian leans forward, his voice low and as colourless as his eyes. "-there is only ever one Eye."
Finn does not trouble himself with addressing his earlier points further, having realised belatedly the majority of the rebuttals Cian is giving. He has spoken, the Eye has responded, and they understand each other as much as possible. (Which, in truth, isn't at all). His wine remains untouched on the table and his stormy eyes are dark, more grey than blue as Cian leans forward and delivers his reminder with the precise sort of verbal whipping that Finn has come to expect.
"Understood," he says quietly, almost under his breath. "And what would the Eye use the Spyglass for on this occasion, given that things have gone quite spectacularly awry?" He chews at the inside of his cheek until he tastes copper, and it's a surprising balm on a situation suddenly rife with chains and chaos. Finn feels like a captured bird, having walked into the cage himself. It's a familiar feeling, at least.
"Certain things have been set in motion that cannot be undone now." Finn's telling Amalia of the machine, for instance. Inhaling deeply, leaning back in his chair now and looking quite relaxed, Cian raises the glass of whiskey to his lips with the same hand that holds his cigarette. The mingling of flavours isn't savoured at all though, with the Eye knocking back the drink in a fluid motion. "As I said before. I would use the Spyglass to do that which it is best at. Seeing."
For one who hated contact and shied away from social situations, Finn had certainly stuck his fingers and his nose in a good many places it didn't belong.
"Have you noticed at all, the changes in the weather. How the storms to the west of the mountains are beginning to subside? How the brutal lightning storms south of the Grounds are beginning to wane?"
Finn does see - and it feels almost as though blinkers have been drawn away from his eyes now, though he still hasn't quite made sense of what they are showing him. He watches Cian knock back his drink, watches the glow of his cigarette, watches the world around him move and adjust itself, waitresses and patrons dancing a dance of etiquette that they currently play no part in. Drawn back in by the sound of Cian's voice, as if it is a thread that the Eye can tug on for attention, he blinks, brows furrowing in an obvious answer to the other man's question.
No, he hasn't noticed these things, but that is understandable given his time sick and the period afterwards in StormBreak. "Those storms are growing weaker." It's a remark, not a suggestion for clarification. "Either this is the doing of the Old Gods, or the Voice is involved with it somehow." Either option is unsettling for different reasons, some more straightforward than others.
Stiffly, Cian nods. It is a moment he must decide where to assert his authority, to reveal the unfathomable depths of what Finn does not know about the world, or, to reel Finn back in. The Spyglass has always been clever, it's why he was brought into the Order in the first place. But even the once-best tools can become useless over the years.
"Has anything you've seen made you believe that it is one, over the other?" Cian asks, his tone making it impossible to know if he already has the answer. If this is a test or truly a call for information. A time for Finn to shine, or to demonstrate his uselessness.
The cogs are starting to tick in Finn's mind again, and it's visible in the way his eyes drop to the table, the way his finger chases around the rim of his mostly full glass, as if trying to make it sing. "That depends on how deeply you look," he says quietly. "On the surface, we have seen the Voice involve herself more obviously in affairs over the past few seasons. That would suggest she is behind this." It doesn't sound as though Finn quite believes it, though.
"But on the other hand, her reach has not improved such that she can control that not within it. So if the storms are subsiding, it is for a reason. Perhaps to give access to something previously unavailable. Or someone." There are branches that span further, even, than this, but Finn does not bother himself with such fuzzy trains of thought. "The truth would be easily discerned should I visit the areas where the storms are subsiding."
His glasses would reveal the taint of recent Ascended aura over all else, confirming or denying one of the theories.
Cian hardly moves. It's as if only one of them can be animated at a time. As Finn verbally worries his way through the question asked, the Eye's gaze remains entirely unwavering, though it doesn't quite penetrate down into the Spyglass's soul, as it sometimes seems to. When Finn reaches as close to a conclusion as he seems to want to come, then, and only then, does Cian break from his stillness to nod.
"A worthy task for one with your particular set of skills." The Eye agrees. Speaking the names of certain lands, obscured for hundreds of years though not unknown to the Spyglass because of his research, Cian does now fix Finn with a look so deep it's as if he wants to read whatever might be writ upon the man's bones.
"With your compass and your glasses again, the task should be rather easy." Snuffing out his cigarette, watching as the last embers are rendered dark, he adds: "If you accept it."
The nod in the periphery of his vision causes Finn's eyes to lift in time to be pinned by one of Cian's stares. And though it still chills the very core of him, as if the Eye can look into every silk-wrapped secret, every old bruise and fresh wound, there is more steel in the Spyglass than previously. His experiences with the world outside of StormBreak have bitten him and left scars, and he is less surprised than ever by how hungry it can be.
"I accept it," he says easily, as if a mantle has been readjusted on his shoulders. It's heavy as well as it's comforting, and he's not sure how well it fits him currently. But he wears it regardless. "I will be able to get the information in 48 hours maximum. Less, if the landing point of the compass is close to a storm. I will deliver the report on my return, unless you have other instructions."
Cian raises a brow. "Your compass will be unable to take you directly to the locations of the storms. In some cases, they are hours away from the capitals of each land." Which was of course to say that 48 hours was an impossible timeframe. "Give yourself a week." The Eye adds, magnanimously, before turning his gaze back toward the sea.
"No, nothing else." Rising, Cian turns toward Artemide finally. The owl turns her stare back at him, and for an unsettling moment, it's like they both use the powers they have to bore holes into the other. A question lingers on Cian's tongue for a moment as he turns to look back at Finn, though he seems to think better of it.
