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!
12-11-2020, 09:58 AM (This post was last modified: 12-11-2020, 10:10 AM by Declan.)
DECLAN
Well, this was different. Dark shoes, worn and meant for work, stepped across the sun-bleached cliffs of Aumakua. He moved along with a little more caution, a little less ease than usual. If it was all the same, he arrived in a timely fashion. He was mulling over the governor's request for a particular item to be delivered, deciding that it wasn't entirely strange but not very common either. The house was certainly new, though. The wood still gave off that newly-cut aroma, and the potted plants around the front yard still had fresh dirt around them.
Declan paused before the front steps, leaning back on his heels with a huff. This must have been it, right? He tucked the parcel under one of his arms and pulled a soft pack from his black coat's inner pocket. Black, his signature color; no more than a shadow standing before the open land and sea. A soft breeze ruffled his sandy-brown hair and he pulled a cigarette from the pack with his mouth, prodding it out. In swift, habitual movements, it was lit and he was sighing with the intake of nicotine as it satisfied his endless cravings.
His footsteps echoed over the porch. The cigarette still lay comfortably between his chapped lips. Prompt, he knocked against the frame of the door. It was quiet here. If anyone was in, they would surely hear him. When the governor would inevitably answer, he would find the courier standing there, looking anything but dutiful.
At first, Declan would eye him to make sure it was the right person. Didn't take him very long, though; a quick up-down. His head would crane back with raised eyebrows and a crooked shift of his lips around the filter, altogether amused by Sunjata's height. Then, he would grab the smoking cigarette from his mouth and hold out the package in his other hand.
"For the Gov'ner," he said, voice clouded by the smoke that left his lungs. He'd remain silent to let the other man examine the box, protected by a thick, sheet-like material sized just right to fit the finely-crafted wood. Within, if Sunjata was eager to tear into it, he would find the specific crossbow, held in place by a soft material so that it would not jostle around in its case. It would be in perfect condition, as could be expected of Declan.
"Beautiful day we're havin'," the words left him bored and dull. "Care for a smoke?" It was said less like a question, and more like a proposition. Although the difference was subtle, Declan was not the type to stop by and chat. Perhaps that was enough of a cue.
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
The gift was supposed to arrive today, so Sunjata had made sure to station himself close to the door rather than up in his office. A table set out in the living room beside the couch, littered with books and diagrams of what they needed to accomplish for the quest from Safrin. He’s been nose deep for a while now, until the knock at the door has his attention, has him moving toward it so he can open it to spy a man he’s rarely talked to but has seen around quite often. But the governor remains in the door frame, waiting until Declan’s decided that he’s the correct recipient, before he’s reaching out to take the package from the other man.
“Thanks.” He rumbles as he sets it on a table beside the entrance, a finger shifting to a claw so he can break through the sealant that kept it all closed, before he’s peering at it to make sure it’s the right one. He doesn’t imagine Declan would’ve broken it in transit, but that also doesn’t mean the person at the shop hadn’t wrapped up the right one or made the adjustments he’d requested. They had, however, and all was well when his steel gaze flickers back to Declan and the smoke billowing around the other man.
His gaze drifts toward the weather outside briefly before landing back on Declan, an amused smirk crossing his face. “It is, isn’t it?” His accented voice rumbles as he steps out, shutting the door behind him and pulling out his own smoke, lighting it easily, and taking a deep drag. But as his gaze lands back on Declan, there’s a question in his gaze, a question that seems to say ‘what’s up?’
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
As Sunjata left his doorway, Declan would step away a few paces, leaving plenty of room. The question in Sunjata's pale eyes didn't go unnoticed but, Declan was quicker to dismiss it than to get straight to the point. He took a longer drag of his cigarette this time, letting the cherry slowly prickle along the edges of the paper.
"Hmm, even the gov'ner doesn't like livin' in his own city," He mused with a faint hint of humor. His lips parted in a sort of smile as he faced away, toward the ocean, breathing out plumes of smoke. Turning back in the governor's direction, he casually leaned his elbow up on one of the beams supporting the house. His head tilted ever so slightly, a clever glint in his eyes, but then he let his gaze slide away. Another drag, another pause, another sink into his thoughts.
"There's a change in the air. Someth'n's... goin' on," he started off slow, steady, as was his way about things. He ran a few fingers through the hair by his ear. "I've been seeing people around here that ain't from anywhere. And I don't mean Outlanders." He jerked his gaze up to peer at Sunjata's face. "You've noticed them, surely? Or isn't that what you're hiding from?"
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
Sunjata finds himself waiting for whatever news it might be that Declan has to share, but it seems as though the man isn’t too keen on getting on with it. Which is fine, in most cases, Sunjata simply waiting with a predatory stillness granted by his dragon shift as he watches and waits, dragging easily off of his own cigarette. What he doesn’t expect is what Declan says next, something that amuses Sunjata quite a bit all things considered.
It’s a slow grin that spreads along the Flood’s face, smoke curling around his nose as he exhales his plume of it. “I lived in the city for long enough.” He rumbles with a shrug of tattooed and scarred shoulders, before he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Besides, it isn’t like the governor before last who holed himself up in Apopo and disappeared when it blew.” A raise of his brow at the comment back, that grin on his face shifting to a smirk.
But alls well that ends well, and Sunjata’s not particularly here to grow defensive because of one man’s opinion. So he lifts the cigarette to his lips again, letting it hang between his lips as he listens as the thoughts begin to spew. And this comment at the end does get him a bit sharper, a dark brow raising as his gaze narrows on Declan. “Hiding from them?” He laughs, even if it’s partially true, he wouldn’t admit it. “I’ve heard they’ve been roaming around more lately. But yes, in terms of change in the air? Sounds like war’s coming. Best get your cards delt right.”
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Declan raised his brows with a considering tip of his head, True. But he wasn't one to pick on people, especially someone he was trying to garner information from. Anyway, he wasn't too worried about the past actions of the old governor. So he let the quip go unchallenged as he moved on to the real concerns at hand, satisfied that he could really get Sunjata's attention. Even if he denied it, Declan was already convinced it was the truth, picking up on the way his gaze sharpened and narrowed. Maybe he wasn't hiding from 'them', so he does know, but he was hiding from something...
Declan's own gaze narrowed in return, processing the bit of information, but then he grinned. "I don't play cards," he remarked, chuckling, "In fact, I don't play games much at all."
With a ragged sigh, he fixed a fold in the hem of his coat and flicked the ash from his cigarette. Back to more serious matters. "But I'm willing to try out your game," he rumbled lazily, taking a quick, fleeting drag from his cigarette and refocusing on Sunjata. "I'll need a bit more than that, though. Can't play a game if I don't know the rules." He splayed one of his palms and shrugged.
"Who are they? What do they want so bad they'll start a war?"
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
A dark brow raises to Declan at the mention of not playing cards or games. “Well that’s just dull.” He comments with a bit of amusement, but it fades quickly as the other man fixes a fold on his shirt, Sunjata remaining idly against the pillar, idly dragging from the cigarette – eyes focused and locked on the courier as if he needs to keep the man in sight. “Is that so?” He asks, head tilting avianlike.
Sunjata remains silent, however, waiting to see what exactly the other man wanted to know. As for playing a game without the rules, Sunjata gets it, and the admission from Declan does spark a ghosting curl of a smirk to cross his lips. The information, however, isn’t secret – this part at least – and so it’s easy for the Flood to roll his shoulders, to shift where he settles most of his weight.
“They are called the Order. They want to stop the Voice and the Ascended like before. Pawns are in place and pieces are moving… At this point it’s just a matter of when it’ll start.” It’s blunt and to the point, but he raises the cigarette to his lips, dragging on it and flicking the ash from the end as he withdraws it. “After the Voice and the Ascended spent three hundred years in a bubble, I imagine they won’t go back easily.”
And of course, it’s no secret that Sunjata’s married to an Ascended. It’s no secret that Sunjata would do anything and everything for the doctor if it came down to it. And yet… The starry tattoos on his shoulders and his arms, swirling with stars and galaxies obviously a gift from Safrin certainly complicated that train of thought.
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
01-03-2021, 10:55 PM (This post was last modified: 01-03-2021, 10:56 PM by Declan.)
DECLAN
Declan knew that Sunjata and Nate were a couple; the doctor and the governor. It didn't surprise him, either, that he had an ex-wife holing herself up somewhere. Declan could only wonder and piece the bits together. He had rumors that followed him, as well, regarding a wife. Although it was less likely that Sunjata kept ears open for such things.
"Nah, I don' imagine they will. I doubt ya'd be so willin' to let your husband go back, either. But y're marked by the stars, aye? Ain't that Safrin's thing?" He grinned, something wolfish and playfully amused all at once. What a shitshow. Should be interesting to watch unfold. "Tsk... 'at certainly complicates y'r stance on the whole thing, don' it?"
But Sunjata has only told him just enough. Enough to go off of, sure, but Declan hungered for a bit more. And perhaps his next proposal was a shred too obvious, but he didn't care - and, for a moment, he assumed that perhaps Sunjata wouldn't either.
"Say, I don' believe I've received any payment for the package. S'all there, ain't it?" his expression falls towards the box and the door and the porch as he discards the end of the cigarette. He raises his icy gaze back up to Sunjata and shrugs it off, "Tell you what, I'll knock off the usual price if ya got a strong drink - an' a bit more time."
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
His gaze remains trained on Declan while he puffs from the cigarette, uncertainty lingering deep within him though it doesn’t show through the hardened steel. It’s more… Reserved, carefully kept and carefully placed before he dips his head in agreement to Declan’s grin. “She gave them to me herself.” He rumbles, a muscle feathering in his jaw, a snort leaving his nose at the simplicity of how Declan says the complications are. “That it does.” Another quiet agreement, a huff of a sigh that’s exhaled in a cloud of smoke.
He’s content to sit there and watch as he mulls over the options while he pulls on the cigarette until it’s basically nothing anymore, swiftly putting it out just in time for the other man to speak again. “It is.” He agrees, speaking that the bow was all there. As for the rest of it, another dip of his head offered, half turning to get out of the cliffs and head back toward the home.
He opens the door, letting Declan in, but rather than go into the right side of the winged house – he heads toward the left, the business sector, stocked with alcohol and offices to better suit a conversation such as this. He makes it to his office, leaving the door open for Declan as he slips behind his desk and produces two glasses and a bottle of strong rum, pulling the cork out of the bottle and pouring it into both glasses before handing one to the other man. “A bit more time, hm?” He asks, taking the glass in one hand and rests his weight on the other atop the desk.
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
01-08-2021, 08:02 AM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2021, 08:04 AM by Declan.)
DECLAN
Declan would be lying if he said it didn't irk him how hard Sunjata stared at him. It couldn't be helped, though; the man was clearly suspicious of people that came asking questions. This wasn't Declan's most discreet attempt at gathering information, although his questions were also not unjustified and that was the reason for his boldness.
Rumors of this and that and those, and talk of war, had made their rounds through the city already. He merely wanted to get to the bottom of it, to weasel his way into the thick of it, and come out on top because he knew it before it happened. To let nothing catch him by surprise. He didn't particularly care that Sunjata was torn in half by the political and religious transgressions going on around them due to his loyalty to his husband. Though, he supposed he'd have to try to care - even if only for the time being.
Life is much easier without attachments, Sunjata, a soft sigh worked its way out of Declan's nose as he followed Sunjata into the house. A sharp left was made, though Declan did take a second to glance around at the entrance. "Nice place," he mumbled, raising his brown and gold eyebrows at what little popped out at him.
Sunjata clearly wanted to take him into his office, though, so Declan obliged. He let a few feet slip between them, though he kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the giant's back.
Upon entering, Declan is quick and cheeky to make himself quite comfortable. He sheds his coat along the back of the chair in front of the desk, revealing a black, knitted longsleeve shirt that hugs his frame more readily. With a grateful nod of his head, his expression seems to warm and loosen up as he accepts the glass. Yes, alcohol, of all things.
That is Declan's weakness; not a being or a Goddess. He finds the drink to be far more refined than something that would require sentimentality, or favors, or that might demand unwavering loyalty no matter what should happen. Which brings his thoughts back to...
"Safrin, aye?" he smirks in amusement, settling into the seat quite easily and folding one leg over the other, letting his arms spread over the chair. "Seems like'a trap, don' it. Marriage, too, aye..." He lets out a winded sigh, rolling his neck, as if he is not envious. Because he isn't. Only, he is leaving out the fact that he himself follows Vi and Safrin - the Old Gods. Not like a pious fucking wide-eyed child, of course, but he does favor them over the Voice. She is new and different and he doesn't quite know how to feel about her.
He takes a long drink until the glass is empty. Leaning forward, he sets it pointedly back in front of Sunjata with a questioning arch of one brow. "You'll forgive me if 'm a bit thirsty, given the back 'n' forth that I do," He smiles, eyes wandering about the office to take in the details. After a few moments and maybe another drink is served, he asks more seriously, "So, we know 'bout the Order, hmm. Do we know where they're comin' from?" He lifts his gaze expectantly, something clever and devious wrinkling the corner of his eyes; the turning of very specific gears. "Maybe I ought to deliver a message."
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
Oh, it’s absolutely easier without attachments – but it’s also far too lonely. And that was one thing Sunjata couldn’t do anymore. His entire upbringing had been loneliness and standoffish, and when given the choice to feel close to people – and truly close, not just gatherings where there were people. There was a certain closeness in those you surrounded yourself with that knew you versus so many faces in the crowd that were exactly that; faces in the crowd.
The compliment at his home is met with a hum of a thanks, though he doesn’t stop – he continues on until they arrive at his office, drinks poured and offered as he settles in the chair and peers over at Declan, cocking his head in an avian manner. “Safrin.” He pauses, just long enough to let a quiet humorless laugh leave him. “She attuned me, actually. And since then… Well.” He extends his arms in front of him, peering down at the starry waves within, watching the galaxies within begin to shift and move.
He lets his arms fall back down, one scarred hand lifting to grab the glass to sip from it. “This marriage is less of a trap than my last one.” Shoulders shrug as he sets the glass down, waiting until Declan’s ready to talk. And it isn’t until the glass is empty and the Flood is leaning forward to fill his glass again, that he finally gets a response to what had him lead the man inside.
“Doubt a message would be good for them. They’re up in Stormbreak. Got these… Compasses I guess that port them in and out.” He shrugs. “I don’t know much about Stormbreak but it sounds dull.” Though his gaze lifts to Declan, wondering if he’d heard anything else.
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
01-17-2021, 08:25 AM (This post was last modified: 01-17-2021, 08:26 AM by Declan.)
DECLAN
Declan's icy gaze veers along the splotchy and hooked tattoo along Sunjata's arm. He snorts, amused, "'N' since then, you've been at 'er beck an' call. She sure does have an eye fer the pretty things." Whether he's calling Sunjata pretty, or the tattoo, is up for interpretation. Not like he cares how his words are taken. He also doesn't miss the opposing arm, all scarred with tendril-looking marks, gaze lingering on it as Sunjata proceeds to pour more amber liquid into his extended glass. Curious. Declan nods in silent thanks.
"Take it from me, friend', everythin's a trap," he picks up the glass and winks, adding with a sarcastic raise of his brows, "even this."
So there's more that Sunjata knows and didn't already tell him, and maybe that's apart of Declan's plan. Prodding, poking, offering a penny for the governor's thoughts. It seems that there isn't too much information about the Order that he isn't allowed to know. If there is, he probably isn't gonna get it. And Sunjata's interest in it seems lackluster. How... fuckin'... boring. He lets out a rugged sigh, pushes his fingers through his hair, and stands up. But he doesn't say anything, no response about Stormbreak, though he does tuck that piece of information and the idea he's got away for later.
He shrugs casually over to a shelf along the wall (because that's.. what offices have) and sets his drink down on it. He's silent for a little while, peering at some of the books or papers that rest in their proper places, perhaps prying one from the shelf and taking a gander at its contents. He turns back, half-facing the governor with a scrutinizing look in his eyes, and returns the book to the shelf.
"Where d'you get information from, Sunjata? An' I don' mean the shit everyone else knows." A hand that's leaning along the books sweeps over to the glass, to guide it up to chapped lips. He clears his throat when he's done, because the shit is pretty strong, and adds, "I've heard some about these little... Devil's Advocates y've got. 've also heard, ain' much at all.. been heard of 'em. Not in a while."
There's not much sense in beating around things until they're beaten senseless - and the drink is kicking in a bit, dulling Declan's tactful sensibility - which might've spurred him on to do just that. There was usually more purpose and intent behind a simple message or delivery. That's what he had been trying to get at before... He'd let Sunjata discover that via experience rather than explanation, though, since that seemed to be how the man learned best.
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
The comment is one that Sunjata doesn’t dive into fully. He was right, Safrin had made him who he is, and he’s done whatever he could for her since then. As for pretty things? He knows that part is true, but he doesn’t particularly consider himself a pretty thing. A taped together mosaic of trauma, perhaps, but not pretty. Maybe that’s why she had finished the tattoos he initially started to get for her, to be able to control the way they looked, to add her touch, to make him beautiful too. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t ask, and instead lets his steel gaze focus on Declan once again.
It’s just in time to offer a snort back to the other man. Traps upon traps upon traps. It never seemed to end, really. Though Sunjata was good at rolling with the punches, most times. Eyes follow Declan as he stands, peruses the bookshelves, sets the glass along one of them, and Sunjata sits back in his chair to watch, to listen. Where does he get the information from? He’s the Governor. He hears about them from everywhere. But Declan isn’t finished and Sunjata doesn’t care much to divulge his personal ability to collect information, so he remains silent.
Until Declan’s turning the tune again and Sunjata’s mask breaks with a raise of his brow, a bit more narrowed attention. “We’re a bit spread out at the moment.” Sunjata murmurs instead, not denying, confirming if anything else. What was the point in lying about it when someone knew evidently all about it. So he takes a sip from his glass, staring hard at Declan until he lets things meld together. “Headquarters is here but we’ve got extended reach. Halo, the Grounds… Technically Stormbreak but there is no way to get in contact there without someone finding out.” A humorless smile crosses his face as he shakes his head and sets the glass down.
“Why, you want in? Itching for something else to do other than eavesdrop during deliveries?” His gaze lifts again, a rather pointed look given to Declan.
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Spread out, spread thin, s'all the same," Declan hums, bemused. But he's not here to bring down the ego that Sunjata has built up for himself, meager as it may or may not be. The governor might prattle on about how he's got connects here and there, there and here, but no access to the one that's in Stormbreak. Declan rolls his neck, silently mulling over whether or not he thinks this information is true.
He stills and his eyes lift to meet Sunjata's. They share a look of silent communication in that fraction of a moment, where intent is both shared and understood, and they both know there is only one direction for this to lead. Well, there's two, but Declan doesn't think Sunjata will turn him down. He knows he could use the extra pair of eyes and ears, and Declan could certainly use a better use of his... unique skillset. Blending into the background, no more than a stranger or a shadow; Declan was the perfect asset. He had no real ties, either. Well, none that he cared to put on display, and that's all that mattered; what other people saw.
Most people don't see much of Declan unless he wants them to, or unless they seek him out under the clever guise of 'messenger'.
Then, Sunjata says exactly what Declan is expecting him to. Or maybe hoping is a better word. A grin, opposite in nature to Sunjata's unamused smile, breaks the roughness of Declan's expression. A rare sight, though it is characteristically clever. "Well! Since ya insist, who'm I to deny the gov'ner?" he jests, before taking another drink. "Why, ya got somethin' in mind?"
everything I do is wrong but, by Gods, I do it right
There’s a silent comment that’s passed through the chitchat, something quiet and only through the seriousness of Declan’s gaze that the Flood realizes, that he understands what the man’s getting at. That he does want to be involved – and it makes it easier for Sunjata to dive into the next comment, offhand as if it’s what he’s been anticipating this whole time. It isn’t, but he can pretend at the very least.
A grin splits Declan’s face and Sunjata finds it reflecting on his own (albeit into something more amused, something smaller, just a quirk of his lips rather). “Actually… I do.” He begins, pausing as the wheels in his head filter together. “I need eyes and ears on the Ascended shrine here. I heard that the Order might want to tamper with it. I need to know if they show up.” He rumbles, leaning forward now to take a sip from his drink and set the glass down on the table in front of him before he reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out another bottle of alcohol – this one slightly different, slightly older and of a smokier taste.
He stands then, stepping over toward Declan to hand him the bottle as his payment. “Think you can handle that?”
did you get out all of that angry passion? is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
