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!
Caught. Not that the Fixer had been avoiding the question, he just got distracted by the prospect of the Firling and enjoying a new friend’s company. “Yeeeeeessss…” he draws out, suddenly looking quite sheepish as he rights and steadies himself again. “That was the original plan, and then I remembered the Firling, and well…” one shoulder shrugs in what he hopes is a charming way, an uncharacteristic self-consciousness rising hot and heavy in his cheeks. The dark pools of his eyes dart away and identify a place to sit - safety - and he gestures toward it.
“I’m not normally this unsteady. Disuse makes it weaker.” Seeming to try and justify what just happened, perhaps needlessly, the young(ish) man has a noticeable shift in him.
“Do you have any suggestions?” he asks, glancing at Sera as he remains standing in order to give her a proper height, “Other than a grip fitted to my palm and a slip-proof bottom?”
// last night you came to my house with drunk eyes we didn't think too much this time, we danced like we were the same //
Falke’s sheepishness does come off a bit charming to Sera, if she’s being honest. And as she listens to him explain about the Firling, she nods, her smile growing a bit more genuine until they’re heading toward the bench alongside the edge of the street and she remains at his side in case he should need help until they get there. “You don’t have to justify it to me.” She assures him gently, offering a soft smile in response. And when he stands to give her the idea of proper height, she moves to pull out her notebook and measuring tape to take note of it.
Once she does, she has him sit – though she remains standing for now. She looks down at him as she marks the notable things that would make a cane good, the slip proof bottom and the grip fitted to his palm, but there’s another idea she has in mind that might help pair with it. “Do you mind?” She asks a bit suddenly, before she’s kneeling before Falke, taking a new measurement from his knee down, then using that to do some math to figure out the hip section.
“I could make a brace for your hip of sorts… Or…” She trails off, peering up at him from where she kneels by his leg. “We could try a cane with lighter material so it’s easier to use and take a bit less weight off that side of you?” To counterbalance it of a sort, perhaps?
Falke hardly need think about it; a brace does not sound like fun. It would hide his limp more covertly, yes, but what does he have to hide? As he might have told Amalia, there’s no shame in being less than physically perfect. No need to hide it.
And besides, a cane is kind of his thing. Falke shakes his head gently. Even though it might be more medically advisable - a brace might actually train his hip to work the way it ought to - he doesn’t want that. “A cane is just fine. I’m used to it.”
But a lightweight material? Yeah, that might do some good, and to that, he quickly agrees. “Maybe something collapsable? Or extendable? By a button somewhere. So I can easily take it with me, or I don’t know, reach something up high?” Or attempt to defend himself. But Falke, you’re just babbling now and this realization, this attempt to hide one of its true purposes, makes him feel suddenly quite ashamed of trying to hide it. Sera is in the Order.
“Or defend myself,” he says, perhaps a little quieter than the rest of his reasons.
// last night you came to my house with drunk eyes we didn't think too much this time, we danced like we were the same //
He denies the need for a brace, preferring a cane over it and she marks that note in her notebook before she peers up at him while he quickly agrees, a soft smile forming on the edges of her lips. “Hollowing it out will make it lighter and also give room for a button to be put in, but it will take me a bit to make sure that I can make one that won’t accidentally collapse on you.” She offers with a tidbit of information up in that pretty little head of hers.
But he continues and it’s like a lightbulb goes off in her head, a Cheshire grin forming on her lips – not at the quiet and shame of what Falke gives, but because of the idea he’s just given her. She stands, sitting delicately at his side and angles herself toward him, moving a bit lower from her notes to begin to sketch out something nice.
It’s a cane, extendable in two parts – the smaller version of it closer to becoming like a baton of sorts, but the handle – delicate and noted to be elegantly designed, when the second button is pulled, releases a hidden dagger from within it that’s straight as a whip to fit into the hollowed out core of the cane. “How is… This?” She asks as she adds the final details, the two buttons – one for expanding and collapsing, the other for releasing the weapon – and turns the notebook toward him for his approval.
Whatever Falke is expecting (and he’s not underestimating the Artificer, mind, he just isn’t aware of what building and designing entails), it is nothing like what Seraphina comes up with. When she flips the notebook around to show him what she’s come up with, he is obviously impressed and takes a quiet moment to appreciate her detail and consideration of his wants and needs.
“Amazing,” he breathes, exhaling into a smile. “I should have come to you years ago.”
There is, of course, the small fact that Falke doesn’t really know how to use a knife - er, spear? - effectively. But perhaps it may be able to ward a threat off. The Fixer is safe in Stormbreak because everyone knows him and the Order and the work they do. The punishment that would happen if one of them were harmed or threatened. Out in the rest of the big, wide, fascinating world? He’s just a man with a cane. An easy target.
Relief lightens his chest and he nods enthusiastically. “This is great. Thank you so much, Seraphina.”
// last night you came to my house with drunk eyes we didn't think too much this time, we danced like we were the same //
She flips the notebook toward him, lets him take as much time as he wishes to scan the things she’s both added and taken away from the design of his cane. And when he smiles, when he breathes his response, Sera can’t help but to offer a brilliant grin his way, bright and vibrant and happy to have helped.
And even if he were to admit that he didn’t know how to wield a knife? Well, he wouldn’t have been alone. Sera isn’t too sure either – but she’s been training with a few of the Dragoons and Ronin in order to learn some perks of self-defense. Perhaps once she’s learned more she can help teach the man beside her.
Snorting lightly at his compliment, she takes the notebook back, sticking a piece of paper like a bookmark from the back of the pages into that spread, before she closes it and looks back up at him with content. “You’re welcome.” She says gently, keeping that smile on her face. “Give me a week or so to get a prototype together and we can test it out, alright? Then I can finalize it.”
“Of course. No rush at all.” He’s done just fine without a cane for a while, he can certainly make do without one for another week or so. Especially because he doubts he’ll be off adventuring any time soon - even with the prospect of the Skyboat port in Torchline.
As she closes her sketchbook. Ophelia starts to project the hungry feeling - and Falke’s stomach joins in with a small rumble of its own. He looks down at it, surprised, and then his eyes light up. “Looks like we’re both a little hungry, hey Fee?” That light turns to a sparkle of mischief as he thinks about their earlier conversation - and Mag’s scones. “Sera, would you and Levi like one of Mag’s scones before we head back? On me, of course.”
The perfect treat to end an excursion like this, and a small way to say thank you, if the Artificer has the time.
// last night you came to my house with drunk eyes we didn't think too much this time, we danced like we were the same //
No rush at all is a good thing in Seraphina’s book, given the fact that it gave her time to focus on figuring out the entirety of the design, the way to build the prototype, to test it before subjecting him to it should it fail. So she’s positively pleased once she moves to close her sketchbook, popping a small little bookmark from the back into it to set the priority of the item, before she looks over at Falke with a grin. “Oh, we would be delighted, Falke.” She chimes, another wide grin sent his way, before she’s pushing up off of the bench.
A hand is extended to him to help him up, to pretend to cling to him yet offer support on their way to Mag’s should Falke need it, content to devour a scone or two and chatter on the way back toward the Tower – of anything and all things between the strange Firling in the center of town and the potential shift in the weather.
