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 isn’t often that Falke ventures beyond Stormbreak proper; most people prefer (and in fact, the Fixer does too) to come to him if they need treatment - but this is a special circumstance, isn’t it?
There’s a demigod in the house.
Using the pretense of his weekly Dragoons visit to mask his curiosity, Falke walks without his cane towards the city gates; his hip finally shows some return to its normal state post-hot-springs bath, but it’s still on the upward side of normal this morning. Humming a nameless tune to himself, the Fixer appears to be a casual figure ambling nonchalantly through the people, one hand in a coat pocket, the other on the strap of his small messenger-style bag. No glasses this morning, but his beard is rather full and professorial-looking lately.
Falke pauses as he reaches the gates, peering up with his eyes shielded against the crisp Leafchange sun, its brightness reflecting off the gate guardians. A thrill of anticipation creeps through him, perhaps putting way too much hope in a chance meeting.
Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's gods. Or maybe Falke's luck is just really good this morning, because just as he arrives at the City Gates, Ronin flies right over them. Yeah, yeah, he's not meant to leave Stormbreak, whatever. But he's just trying to get a feel of the perimeter of his new prison home, and that involves a morning nimbus trip, alright? Either way, he realises he's been rumbled the second he spots a convenient someone right where he's landing, and Ronin dismisses the nimbus and drops down on light feet, clearing his throat.
"I won't say anything if you don't," he offers by way of a greeting, his smile the awkward kind of hopeful. Honestly, aside from Cian, the Star hasn't even really met anyone here who might be considered the authority, and he's sort of concerned for the Stormbreak Dragoons, apparently very formidable and mighty and... a bit... lacking, honestly.
You just don’t see that kind of magic at work in Stormbreak. You don’t. Even for a science-minded man like Falke, the sight of someone soaring around on a cloud is remarkable. He stares openly at the man, stuck in some sort of awe-shock combo as he comes to land beside the Fixer. “Say what?” he sputter-laughs, quickly followed by, “To whom?” Their presence is common knowledge in the Order now and with antics like that, all of Stormbreak would soon know, even if their heads were under rocks.
Cian? The Eye already likely knows. He knows all. Sees all. Keeps it close to his chest. This would probably make it back to him anyway.
“You must be Ronin,” Falke says with a wide smile, extending a hand to shake. Bold, he thinks but then he must treat this one like every other potential patient (even if he is fangirling a little inside). “I’m Falke. Or Dr. Guildenstern. Or the Fixer.”
"No idea," Ronin replies breezily, tapping the side of his nose and grinning, obviously grateful that the other man - whoever he is - seems content to play along. Honestly, he's not even sure what would happen if anyone found out about his jaunts around the city. Or who would stop him. That isn't something that the Star thinks about all that often, but the longer he's in Stormbreak, the more he considers how much of this world is his oyster.
Enough dark self-indulgence for now, though. Ronin smiles and reaches out to grasp the stranger's hand, giving it a warm shake in greeting. "I am indeed. What gave it away?" he wonders, still a little bemused by everyone seeming to know him by name, but trying to take it in his stride. At least this wasn't as much of a stranger as he first anticipated, and recognition shoots through his expression as Falke introduces himself.
"Nice to meet you. You work with Doctor Hart, right? She mentioned you would be in touch to peform some kind of psychological exam?" He tilts his head
What gave it away? Falke chuckles again and gives the demigod a look that says, you know exactly what gave it away. “Process of elimination.” The cloud, the daredevil attitude, a brand new face - all of the above.
Pleasantly surprised (and yet not so much, he’d heard of Doctor Hart’s encounter with the demigod at length) that he’s semi-remembered, he nods to the first part, but runs a hand over his hair at the second part. “Yes, I oversee the clinic and run the psychological part of our healing team. Dr. Hart runs the physical side.” His status as the head of medicine is based in knowledge only; Tobi really was the face of the clinic. “And yes, we should make an appointment to do that soon. Today, however, I have my standing appointment with the Dragoons.” Which, if he stands there much longer, he’ll be late for.
“Care to walk with me there? I have some shameless questions about that..” The flying thing, specifically.
"Oh I see," says Ronin with a smirk, quite enjoying this back and forth between himself and the doctor. Honestly, he'd expected such a man to be quite stuffy and... well, not at all the gentle sort of soul that he sees before him now. "I am sure you make quite the team," he says of Falke and Tobi, smiling and gesturing for the other man to lead the way. "Of course - I need to head back that way anyway."
Especially given that he isn't supposed to be out here to begin with. The nimbus bobs along beside them as they walk, and Ronin grins across at it. "Oh, this?" He smiles, giving the cloud an affectionate pat and directing it around so Falke can investigate. "I developed the curious ability to call down clouds and ride on them. It's saved my life a few times."
Even with his brief interaction with Amalia, Falke has found that acceptance of the demigod’s abilities is the way to go. So that’s what he decides to project, even though the idea of riding on a cloud, a thing that is ah, supposedly something unstable, is ludicrous. It almost feels like agreeing with a crazy person, even though from what he can see (and what Tobi’s told him), Ronin isn’t necessarily crazy.
“So how does it… work?” He reaches out to touch the cloud, then pauses, and reaches into his bag for a book. “Is it a special cloud that can hold weight?” If the cloud is still there, he’ll try to lay it on the fluffy-looking thing. “Or is it you?” Does he become weightless? A combination thereof?Tilting his head back up at Ronin, Falke raises a brow. “And can you carry others with you?”
"You know, I've never thought about that," Ronin says slowly, glancing past Falke so he can smile at the nimbus. "I don't know if it's special, or even if it's the same cloud every time..." He chuckles. "But it definitely holds weight." As Falke will realise when he places his book atop the nimbus and it happily takes a ride on the cloud. As for whether it can carry people? Ronin falls to a halt, his grin broad and boyish.
"It can carry up to two people," he says, the nimbus swooping around to hover before them. "Would you like to ride on my cloud, Dr. Guildenstern?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and reaching out to pat at the thing. "It would get you where you're going a lot quicker, I promise you that."
What Ronin doesn’t know is that the offer to ride on his cloud soothes some deeply buried sense of loss in the Fixer. Oh, yes, he accepted the reality of his hip many years ago, but dreams? Ah, they’re a much harder thing to kill. Falke could never have been a Dragoon or someone like the Spear - but a position like the Orator’s, or the Spyglass’s? Getting to go out into the world, getting to move freely, it had always lurked, squashed deep down under the satisfaction of his other work.
It is, of course, possible to be happy with what one does and to wish for more.
If it’s possible to convey that kind of delight, that sudden burst of utterly unexpected joy, Falke has that kind of expression on his face, quickly looking from the cloud and where his book rests to Ronin to make sure the offer is genuine. “Gods, yes, that would be -” what would it be, Falke? “Nothing short of amazing,” he concludes, unconsciously touching his hip.
Falke's expression is utterly contagious, and Ronin finds himself grinning as well as he lets the nimbus hover a little lower to the ground. He doesn't know about the Fixer's problems, but the way he favours his hip and the unabashed excitement to fly on the cloud says something that words don't really need. "I haven't been able to deliver much in the way of amazing since I got to Stormbreak, so it would be an honour to fly you to your appointment."
Chuckling, he removes the book from the nimbus and slouches down onto it, offering it back to the Fixer without much looking at the cover. "Just tell me where we're headed, and if you want to take a shameless detour anywhere. I've got time to kill and I'll take the heat if you're late," he offers, one leg dangling off the edge of the cloud as if he's sitting on a comfortable cushion.
12-20-2020, 09:16 PM (This post was last modified: 12-20-2020, 09:16 PM by Falke.)
Despite Ronin’s assurance (and his own eyes) that the cloud holds weight, Falke has to mentally tell himself that it’s okay to get on the cloud. In fact, he goes to step onto it, but then pauses and reverts to sitting, much like a child scooting down the stairs, then pushing himself more into the center of the cloud. And Gods, he isn’t even embarrassed about not wanting to stand and ride it like that. There’s nothing to hold on to, no railings, no little handles - he’d be an idiot to try and keep his balance.
No, Leave the impressive theatrics to the demigods, he’s just happy to get a ride.
And to tell Tobi. Honestly, Falke can’t wait to see the look on her face.
“I’m due at the Dragon’s Nest in half an hour.” Which wasn’t far, it was the climb that takes him a bit, and this would easily negate that time. “But I’d love to see a Sky Captain’s face if we pulled up next to a Skyboat…” Any skyboat, it didn’t matter. Falke just wants the mischief and the shock factor.
Even Ronin has not yet reached the level of confidence where he can happily ride around on his cloud standing up, and so the two men take their positions sitting comfortably. The Star flashes a grin across at Falke as his suggestion tugs on Ronin's impulsive heartstrings. He nods slowly. "I don't think I have seen a skyboat during the day," he says; as he speaks the nimbus slowly rises up from the ground under his mental instruction.
"And, you know, I think half an hour is just enough time to pay a visit to the Falling. Hold on tight!" To what, exactly, is anyone's guess (Ronin, probably), and before they know it, the cloud is listing off back over the city gates, before picking up speed and rocketing towards the skyboats and the ragged cliffs. Ronin has never seen them up close from this vantage point - he and Falke are probably looking forward to this in equal amounts.
