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's around 11 am when those who care about being home for bed have long since gone, those looking for trouble are starting to perk up, and those looking to settle in for a night of cards and drinking are just hitting their stride. Ale sloshes on tables and the wood boards of the floor and no one seems to mind. But spill a drink? Well that's a different matter entirely. Spill a drink and it's likely your blood will be mixed in right quick.
The man at the piano plays a song not inappropriate for this setting, but certainly, it brings a sort of charm and elegance that this place doesn't deserve. But it's the sad quality of the thing that makes it feel right at home. That, and the man playing it isn't one you can really tell to just fuck off.
A barmaid with her waist cinched, her skirts hiked up, and her tits pushed up damn near to her chin, brings the Eye a refill, purposefully leaning over one of his arms so that the exposed (and there's a lot of it) skin of her breasts brushes against his skin. Uncharacteristically Cian is wearing a white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, with this tie undone and dangling around his neck.
The door to the White Hart creaks open and a rumble of recognition goes up around the regulars; granted, though, it is early for Ronin to be making an appearance. Cian has only had to introduce the Star to the Silk Houses once for him to practically make it his home, and once he's finished with the Dragoons for the day, he makes routine visits to this place. And the fight clubs. And sometimes Molly's, but not as often as one would think.
He's here so early not for himself, but for the Eye, and it's clear by the languid footsteps and the continuing lazy pace of the piano that he's not there for a fight. Ronin, too, is dressed out of fashion compared to lately, in a soft grey shirt and dark pants. Slumping into a seat at the table opposite Cian, he offers a nod to the barmaid for an ale.
"Celebrating, or grieving?" he wonders idly. Those are the only two reasons to drink quite this soon in the day.
Cian never ceases to stop his playing, though it would be silly to think he wasn't completely aware of Ronin's presence. The barmaid the Star speaks to blushes crimson from her ears down deep into her cleavage and were this the sort of scene that came with background effects, one might hear the sound of water suddenly rushing and splashing. This was of course to say that she was immediately very interested in anything and everything Ronin might want
"Both, I s'pose." Cian replies, his body moving back and forth with the rhythm he's softly caressing from the keys. There is a lit cigarette on the top of the piano, and so gently do Cian's fingers move, it hardly rolls or moves at all. There's lipstick smudged on his collar, and perhaps a bit of glitter as well.
"And you?" He asks politely enough, still not looking up.
Flashing a charming smile at the barmaid that appreciates her presence as much as it asks her to get him a drink, Ronin settles in his seat. He can only see Cian's profile, really, at the piano, but he can watch his fingers dance over the keys. He can spot the lipstick on his collar, the smoke curling from the cigarette balanced atop the instrument. "Usually both as well," he responds to the question, curiously understanding of it. "But that's not why I'm here today."
Ruffling a hand through his dark mop of hair, Ronin tilts his head back to gaze up at the beams criss-crossing overhead. "Part of me thought you'd already know, but on the off-chance, I'd feel a bit of a dick if I didn't tell you," he murmurs. "The Ascended want to prevent Order members from crossing into the Hollowed Ground. To do that, an Ascended needs to witness a member of the Order using their compass, whatever that entails."
12-17-2020, 08:11 PM (This post was last modified: 12-17-2020, 08:11 PM by Cian.)
CIAN
Instead of imploring Ronin for more details, the Eye continues to sweep his fingers across the keys. The Star is a big boy after all. If he's come here with something to say, he can say it without prompting.
With her thighs showing much more than they were before and her tits spilling out of the top of her dress at an alarming rate, the barmaid sets the Star's drink down before him, making sure to give him ample time to let his eyes dive into her cleavage.
Though the melody by no means stops, but those highly musically minded will hear the way the baseline slows for just a moment, before resuming its pace. "Do they now.' Cian muses dryly. I wonder whatever for. Not even the naturals like the Grounds that much. Why anyone should want to visit is beyond me." Because of course the Eye didn't need to be present anywhere to gain his information.
"How did you come to learn about this?" Now, the Eye does cease his playing. Reaching for his glass, he turns upon the bench seat and gives Ronin and rather respectful look.
Steady on, it's only lunchtime, is what Ronin wants to say to the waitress, but of course he doesn't. He lets his eyes plunge all the way into her cleavage, the Star clearly liking what he sees. He's a little busy right now, though, so he merely lifts his glass in a cheers and settles back again to take a grateful sip. By this point, Cian has halted in his playing (and whilst someone like the Spyglass might have noticed the change in rhythm, Ronin does not).
Glancing across to meet the other man's eye, Ronin smiles over the rim of his glass. "Don't insult both of us, you know how," he murmurs. "I met with my husband in a shared dream and he told me as much. He said he met the Wraith on the borders between the Greatwood and the Grounds, and she told him." As for visiting the place, Ronin scoffs.
"Hey, I used to be king of that place," he protests. It's not a disagreement by any means.
"Quite the opposite. I only meant to imply you've other means of sourcing information other than your husband." The Eye retorts, raising his glass in a quick salute before downing its clear-contents. It's still unclear whether or not the news is knew to Cian, or if his momentary surprise simply came from Ronin knowing about it so quickly. The Eye, of course, won't tell.
"Indeed." Cian says of Ronin's former leadership. "And also the place you first died." He adds with a small smile. "Kind of you to tell me, after how abruptly our last meeting ended." Glancing down into his empty glass, his denim stare flickers toward the bar where wordlessly he orders another round.
"I was only trying to do you a favour. You don't want to be part of the Order, Ronin. You want to be part of it as long as it suits you, to get a compass so that you can travel around, and then fuck off as soon as the..shackles?" Was that the word Ronin had used? "No longer suit." This isn't said with venom or ire. It was simply the truth. Cian would be the man he was if he could see through at least a little bullshit, and he could not believe for even a moment, that Ronin would devote his life to the Order as would be required of him.
"I didn't learn it from the gods, if that's what you mean," Ronin murmurs, taking another long drink from his glass and setting it down on the table where it leaves a wet ring of condensation. Snorting as he gazes into the drink, he doesn't need to look up to see Cian's smile. It's a difficult thing, to swallow down the ire he feels for the man in that moment, but he does his best. "To this day, it's the only place I've ever died," he mutters. "And telling you wasn't kind. It was just the right thing to do."
Suffice to say, Ronin will forever find himself wedged between personal feeling and the right thing to do. Raising his eyes back to Cian, the Star slings an arm over the back of his seat and furrows his brow, as if trying to take a real measure of the man before him. "You are going to end up with a very small and lonely Order, if the price to be a part of it is a lifelong service," he says softly.
"It's true that the compass would let me achieve the thing I want most - to see my husband and my son again. But it's not the only reason I wanted to join." Huffing out a sigh, he drops his gaze to stare a hole in his glass. "I didn't ask to come here, Cian. I didn't arrive with a manual - you are a dEmIgOd and this is your role, this is what you must do until this particular time." He rolls his eyes.
"I was looking for help as much as I was offering it."
Turning his back on Ronin that he might grab the still-burning cigarette from the piano, Cian regards the Star for a moment as a dull smirk spreads across his face. "The Order has been in place for over three hundred years." He notes dryly, putting the cigarette between his lips. "I hope you can understand why the critiques of a man, not from this world, who hasn't been in Stormbreak for more than a month, are taken as being a bit uninformed." Ronin was placed here by the gods to help with the Order's efforts, not to reassemble it. And though the soldier might have had a history as a general, the Order was far more complex than the Storm Guard from Northhaven.
"Take up your frustration with the gods then." The Eye says, smiling up at the barmaid as his drink was set down before him. "Your work is here. If you want to travel and spend time doing other than what was asked of you, that's your prerogative. It won't be me you're answering to, at the end of the day."
A kindly ear was not what the Eye was known for lending. Still, wading through it all was the only way forward, it seemed, as both men apparently had things to say.
"Point taken," Ronin mutters with a raise of his eyebrow, and as Cian turns for his cigarette, the Star reaches out again for his drink. Apparently it's a day drinking sort of time, now. And as the Eye continues, he's very careful not to throw his glass at the Eye in the way he very much wants to, instead exhaling a long, slow breath which nonetheless suggests frustration. "Ah, because taking up one's frustration with gods is always so productive," he drawls, setting down his empty glass.
"You're right, Cian - I don't know the Order. I do know gods, though. You and your three hundred years should know better than to think I have a prerogative to do anything. The only reason I'm having this conversation with you now is because I have to be in Stormbreak. So if my work is here, it'd be damned helpful if someone would tell me what the Dragoons are for, so I can start doing my job."
12-17-2020, 09:24 PM (This post was last modified: 12-17-2020, 09:25 PM by Cian.)
CIAN
"About as productive as takin' it up with me." Cian says on the end of a sigh. As he turns, he lets his back lean heavily against the back of his chair, his posture extremely casual despite the way tensions are slowly rising. "You've been in this world..what? Three years now? Don't mistake being Safrin's pet as knowing the gods." This is said without emotion, but brimming with conviction. Whatever Ronin was or wasn't, he would always be at a disadvantage, in that he was new to this world.
"Have ye ever thought to fucking just ask Ronin? Gods." Their accents mingle now, similar as they are. Perhaps it's the alcohol or early hour, but the Eye's lilt becomes as musical as it is barbed. "You'n Amalia both, stormin' and slammin' into my office like you own the damn place. Demanding answers. Demanding this, demanding that. But it goes both ways, I'll have you know—" So saying the Eye points his index and middle finger at the Star, between which is nestled his cigarette. " Either you bein' a demigod doesn't fucking matter, in which case you can learn your damned place here and show some respect, or it does. And if it does, then quit your fucking whining and take it up the chain to someone who cares." That person, likely being Safrin.
In retrospect, maybe it's being called Safrin's pet that does it. Ronin doesn't really know. He'll probably reflect on it later and join the fiery dots that led to this place and this moment. For now, he's barely registered that he's seized the empty glass in his hand, only recognising that he's thrown it when it shatters against the piano (rather that than Cian, which was where it was almost aimed).
His chair scrapes as he rises to his feet, starlight all but crackling out of him in his temper, and it's with an expression as dark as the moniker he's been given that he regards the Eye. "You know what," he almost whispers, "it does matter. And this fucking demigod doesn't give respect where it hasn't been earned."
He rolls his shoulders, as if trying to disperse some of the tension in them, the little good it will do. "I'd tell you to put up or shut up, but I don't want to embarrass you. So if you want anything from me, you know where to find me."
12-17-2020, 09:49 PM (This post was last modified: 12-17-2020, 09:51 PM by Cian.)
CIAN
Oh, but how Cian loves that piano. Still, as Ronin stands up, posturing like some school boy, the Eye merely lets his eyes float condescendingly up his body. "Well that's something we have in common, then." He says with a dry laugh. "Having your balls tickled by Safrin doesn't mean much. Even being her favourite toy doesn't mean much." He adds. "What've you done to earn respect? Failed leadership. Fucked a goddess. Destroyed a temple and let a guild house burn. Went mad a few times?" Cian snorts under his breath.
"Only one you're embarrassing here is yourself. Stop acting like such a fucking child. You want the respect of a man? Fucking be one, then."
It hits Ronin in a string of blows so low that, were it not for his near superhuman levels of endurance, it might just have bent him double. It's visible though, the way each barb buries itself deeply in him; things that Cian shouldn't know but does; things that the Eye flings at him in anger, dry and condescending though that anger might be. Things Cian uses as weapons, not understanding how sharp they are. Like a child.
The light within the Star grows very bright and very harsh, as if it might detonate at any moment - the fury in him swells and grows... and promptly fades again, as does the starlight. It hasn't dissipated - quite the opposite, in fact. Ronin has swallowed it, burning, to keep for later.
"One day," he says softly and politely to Cian, "I am going to kill you with my bare hands. I don't know when. It might be decades. But I promise you it will happen." Exhaling a shuddering breath, he straightens out his shirt and clears his throat, turning suddenly blank eyes towards the bar where he calls for a cloth and something with which to clean the glass up.
