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!
"I wasn't jousting. It was... uh..." The Star is obviously all out of wit by now, but such is the case when one is drunk, bleeding and thinking about blowjobs. "Sorry," he manages in a sing-song voice as he realises he's dragging her to the ground as well, though he does absolutely nothing about it. Sugar finally unfurls from Tobi's shoulder so she can work better, worming her way around Ronin's neck instead to try and keep him from doing anything worse.
Struggling to focus - but at least keeping very and appropriately still as she produces the scissors - Ronin raises his eyebrows at the name she uses. "Picawho?" he wonders, before grumbling as the leathers fall away. "That was hard to find," he complains; the weight of the thing will probably drag the rest of his clothes off even if she doesn't do it for him. Soon enough it's just scars and the wonderful punch of a spear through his shoulder. At least it's not on the tattooed side.
"I've got a real complicated relationship with stars," he mumbles, almost like it's a confession. "I love them. I feel guilty about them. I feel watched by them."
11-27-2020, 10:57 PM (This post was last modified: 11-27-2020, 10:58 PM by October.)
it does not bother me to say this isn't love
You offer Sugar an appreciative nod as the reptile slithers onto Ronin's neck. "He was an artist, from one of the worlds that the outlanders come from." You say with ease as you work. "One of the best, I think." Shrugging slightly, this is said without much conviction. There are no examples of his work, so all you have to go by are the anecdotes your parents have been told. Still, you like that the name refers to someone far away.
Leaning back on your heels and resting your hands on your thighs, you pause to give Ronin a look. This man is going to give you whiplash from how quickly he goes from schoolyard sex-jokes to verbal poetry, and you're finding this side of him the one that unbalances you the most. 'That does sound complicated.' You agree softly, offering his words all the respect that his near-reverent tone demands. "Do they watch you?" Reaching for a cloth you begin to clean the entrance to the wound, careful not to move the protruding shaft too much.
"Oh, I see. Well, he's never met me. Stupid Picaskco." Yeah, there's no way he's ever going to get that one right, sorry. He doesn't notice the look - he's busy looking up at the sky, the light starting to fall.
Even though it isn't dark yet, Ronin knows where he needs to be looking, and he lets out a soft sigh that turns into a sharp intake of breath when Tobi leans in to start cleaning the wound. "Mm, pretty sure they do. They're like Safrin's eyes," he mumbles. "One of them used to watch in a different way, but she's gone now."
His blue gaze drops to look at the work she's doing, Ronin squinting to try and see, only for Sugar to nip his ear and stop him wiggling around too much. "Do you know the constellations?" he asks her. "Like... old ones. Outlander ones. I've got some."
"No, he hasn't. But it isn't like you're an artist, so I don't think he has to worry."
You frown as Ronin explains. It isn't just the foreignness of who Ronin is—demigod and outlander—but it might also be the whiskey or the bloodloss that's making him hard to understand. "Oh...well. That...sounds like her loss. I imagine you're quite the spectacle to watch." You say, feeling the need to try and boost this man's spirits for some reason. It's something about the way his eyes looked so far away when he mentioned the star that's doing it you think, and as he lowers his gaze to try and see what you're doing, you feel yourself relaxing.
"I know some of the names of them, and even a few of the shapes. Sometimes I try and squint and make their shapes among our stars." You say a touch wistfully. It isn't often that you have time for such things after all. "I was in Torchline not too long ago and it was like I was looking at a completely different sky. Though I imagine that's what it must have been like for yo u, before."
"I am an artist," Ronin objects, sounding adorably petulant about it. He motions lazily to the side of his chest where the hawk tattoo lays stark against his skin. "I sketched that," he informs her. "I didn't get to bring any of that with me though." There's a small moment where he sounds very small and very homesick, especially with the idea of it being the star's loss. It isn't. It's Ronin's loss, and even if he doesn't feel Vanya's absence any more, it's a reminder instead about how far away he is from Remi.
Clearing a throat that's suddenly tight, he leans into the conversation about constellations, offering the bloodied arm that glints golden with Aries, with Aquarius and Virgo. "Do you see them here?" he asks, before smiling lopsidedly. "Yeah, it took a lot of getting used to," he confirms. "I heard about observatories, telescopes and things... Always wanted to take Remi to one, but we never found a place like that."
'Of course you are.' You sing back, words filled with skeptically saccharine. No way does Ronin possess an artists soul or talent. It would be too much: the impossibly handsome face, the godly physique, the godlyness of him, the charm..and, technically, he was a healer too. So no, he just couldn't be an artist as well. "Well, there's plenty of paper and charcoal around if using your blood on the stones and helpful doctors becomes too arduous for you."
Glancing down, it's a bit hard to see the markings through the smattering of blood that covers him. "I see you've taken some artistic liberties here." You note with a smirk, as if the blood splatter is meant to approximate extra stars. "Taking out a skyboat would probably work as well as any observatory. I'm not all that familiar with the rest of the world though...Finn would be. He's the man you helped me rescue from the volcano, and our top researcher. He'd know where such things are."
You find it strange how easily this man is able to slip from golden flirtation to a completely believable longing for his partner. Were you Falke you might make more of it, but you simply give a mental shrug and get on with your work.
"Okay. I'm ready to pull you off of this thing. Do I need to give you some wood to bite down on, or will you be alright?"
"Paper and charcoal," Ronin grumbles to himself, like that sort of medium is the very sort of dark and dreary thing he's come to expect from a place like Stormbreak. Of course, he's soon challenging his own perception of things when his doctor mentions skyboats of all things, and the arch of his eyebrows asks the question he kind quite slur out with his lips. "Mm," he says helpfully regarding his artistic liberties, one hand moving across the other to absently try and rub away the extra stars.
Finn's name has him blinking, trying to focus a little more, and Ronin hums out an agreement. "Maybe I should pay him a visit," he suggests. "Though I dunno if I'll ever get out of here to make use of the information." Wincing, he ducks his head in an easy nod to hear that Tobi is ready to heft him off the spear, snorting at her suggestion. "I'd be worried I'd bite through it," he says honestly. "Let's just get it over with."
"I suppose you're also an accomplished sailor too? If so, you can take out a boat on your own. If not, the boats come with their own little crews." You reply, very much wanting to reach out and try and rub away Ronin's all too expressive eyebrows. "What better way of viewing the stars could there be besides sailing through them?"
"He's usually in his office, in the Collegium." You reply of Finn. Though these days you haven't seen much of him. It isn't immediately clear whether that is a good or a very bad thing. "Better wood than your tongue." You mumble, before wrapping your arms around him: one goes under his arm pit of the unwounded-shoulder, and the other braces against the spear coming out of him. "On three." And as you countdown, predictably the pull comes on two.
"Hmm? No, I never got a chance to sail," Ronin murmurs. He's grown paler since October's initial appearance; demigod or no demigod, it's apparent that the amount of blood in his veins is still finite. "Just a soldier and an artist... and a guildmaster. And king, for a bit. It's been a busy couple years," he says, his voice growing distant so he can instead imagine sailing through the air to look up at the stars. "That sounds amazing..." And it really does, so much so that he's only briefly brought around by the knowledge about Finn, and the arms slipping around him.
The countdown begins, and Ronin is just gearing up for it when Tobi frees him from the spear - in shock and agony, he grunts out quite a spectacular stream of curses, most of them directed at the spear's mother and family. "Really?" he wheezes at her eventually, the pain sobering enough to bring some clarity to his blue eyes. "I trusted you."
'Oh a king. Well, I'm sorry for what's about to come, your majesty." This you absolutely chalk up to bloodloss. But then, you're a doctor and not a researcher. While the others would absolutely have known that this was part of Ronin's resume, its never been information shared with you.
Grinning broadly, Ronin's musical stream of curses forces you to bite your tongue lest you laugh inappropriately. "Did you? I'm not sure why. I don't believe I ever told you I was trustworthy." You smirk back, leaning away from him that you might be able to peer up at him. With one hand still around his upper back and the other on his ribs, you raise your brows at him from beneath your thick bangs, silently wondering if he's alright to balance on his own while you grab the remaining of your supplies.
Ronin offers a good natured wrinkling of his nose in response to the moniker, and he's not really good for any sort of reply for a moment save more cursing. Inhaling a shivery sort of breath, he eventually gazes down at her in return, offering a very betrayed looking pout. "Well consider yourself untrusted," he informs her with a sigh that's just as shaky, though he seems altogether quite balanced. It probably won't stay that way if Tobi decides to move, but sitting there all night pretending to hug isn't going to get them very far.
"What now?" he asks, reaching up to touch the bloody wound on his chest. "Ugh, I'm sobering up. This is the worst." His complaint is punctuated by unceremoniously flopping forward to press his forehead against her shoulder. Blood still dribbles from it, and Ronin vaguely wonders if he'll be able to peep through it, if he can twist himself enough.
"I do have a few lollipops in my bag, if that earns me any brownie points." You offer. But that's the nice thing about being one of the top medical staff in the Order: likeability wasn't actually part of the job description. That being said, your bedside manner was normally much better than this. "Sorry," You offer, shooting Ronin a genuinely apologetic smile. "I don't normally do out of office calls, and it..." Searching for the word you want proves ineffective, and so you merely shrug away your lack of eloquence. "..I'm not at my best."
As Ronin flops forward, you oooof softly into hair that smells of man and blood. 'Well, as much as I'd like to help you with that, alcohol is a blood thinner, and that's the last thing you need right now." But...given how he's eyes are able to see only the cloth of your scrubs right now, you take the opportunity to reach into your pocket for a vial of something quite sparkly. Patting his shoulder in a comical mothering gesture, you pour what basically looks like glitter on his back. Shavings from your own horn, while not as potent as the real healing when you're shifted, should go a long way to speeding up his recovery. Quickly you pocket the vial, before warmly chuckle against him.
"I've got enough of your blood on me now that if I commit any crime on my way back to the Tower, they're going to think it's you whose done it." It's a rather dark thing to say, but for such a sunny person, you've a surprisingly dark sense of humour.
"Lollipops," Ronin says, and it sounds almost as though he's trying to cheer the word, only it's very muffled in the fabric of her scrubs. It should be obvious that yes, of course that earns her brownie points, but if it turns out that it isn't true, he's going to be thoroughly unimpressed. Her apology earns a wobbly smile that she'll feel rather than see, and he nods a bit. "It's ok, I don't normally get real drunk and train with my other self."
The results of man and blood means he's more than pliable enough to stay exactly where he is while Tobi goes to work - and honestly, of all people in Stormbreak, Ronin is the least likely to care about who or what she is. For now though, all that happens is he feels weirdly better as a result of the pat on his shoulder, Ronin clumsily sitting up and smiling to her. "Please don't commit any crimes?" he asks, sounding almost pleading. "It's been a long day already."
"No? From everything I"ve seen of you lately, that seems like exactly the sort of thing you might do." That being said though..."So even as a demigod, you can get drunk just like anyone else?" No increased healing? No hyper-efficient bodily functions? Huh. Given how ungodly his strength was you would have assumed it took an equally ungodly system to keep him running.
'Alright, but only because you said please.' You offer back, pulling your arms away from him and lingering just a moment longer as if trying to balance something precarious. In a way this is exactly what you're doing, and once you see that this mound of man is going to remain mostly upright, you twist and reach for your bag, dragging it closer.
"One lollipop, as promised." You sing brightly, offering the Star a white-wrapped candy. "Skewered through with wood, just like you." Chuckling at your own joke as you hand it over, you pour some antiseptic on a strip of cloth and press it against the wound silently weeping from Ronin's shoulder. 'So are you going to let this heal the old fashioned way, or should I give you some space to explode?" You're only half-joking in asking him this, not knowing what Ronin's normal routine is when it comes to healing. Given the many, many scars on his body, he's clearly no stranger to it though.
