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!
do not mistake me for my mask you see light dappling on the water
Declan's hands and face are covered in a greasy, grimy film of sand. Yep, sand. Why, you might be wondering?
Who can know these things? Who can know where Declan's been for the last... oh, eight hours? He certainly wasn't home, and there are certainly late packages waiting for him to deliver them. Impatient customers who have never seen the man be late a day in his life.
But! Tonight is not his night, and today wasn't his day. Well, most of them aren't, but this one is especially fucked. And the ramifications of what he's just had to do are weighing heavily on his mind now, because damn it all if he doesn't have a conscience. And what of Sunjata? His mind drifts to and fro, always ending up on that man's problems. There's nothing to be done, not now, not until he knows more - and even then, is it his problem to invest in? No. So why does he feel pulled to it?
This is just a hunch, but... it might have something to do with hiding a body for the man - and not knowing much anything else. Regardless, Declan knows he needs to get a grip - especially now, after the fact, after he's already signed up for a fight where he doesn't even know who the opponent is. Words he said to Sunjata come slapping him in the face, 'falling apart, that can wait'.
So Declan, looking hellish in the darkness of Haulani's streets, makes his way towards the only place he really trusts to go for some sort of help. Because, believe it or not, he's gotten himself injured in all of this mess. But Ray's good at keeping secrets, and she knows how to clean and mend a wound. His form saunters up to the back door of the Lunarium Apothecary, because it's an Apothecary now, not a little shop. He's noticed, but he hasn't had the time to stop by and see it for himself lately.
Not that he has much time to be impressed, turning the knob and hurtling in through the door, only to turn around and lock it securely. "Ray!" He shouts, leaning his head against the door and letting out pained breaths. "Need yer help right now," he winces. He slowly puts his back to the door to look around for her, clearly exhausted, clearly out of it, clearly bleeding from a cut on his hand which he's trying to put pressure on to keep from dribbling everywhere. There's a crude piece of cloth wrapped around it, but it's soaked through. The cut is deep.
Ray reacts fast when she hears a familiar voice call out for help and the distinct sound of her door locking. Placing her book down, she opens the back door that connects her workshop to the main space and races over. Ray immediately scans the man in front of her, taking in his haggard appearance and identifying his main injuries. In half a second she's got her list of concerns. Exhaustion, incoming adrenaline crash, a deep incised wound. Ray spends another half second checking to see if his eyes are dilated. She can't quite tell in this dim light but there is clear stress and maybe even panic present in his eyes. Possible emotional trauma. Shit.
Not even two seconds from approaching, and Ray gets to work. "Come on Declan. Let's get you to the new infirmary. I'll patch up that hand of yours and get you something for the pain. If you need somewhere safe to stay for the next few nights, you're welcome to claim a bed there." She speaks with a calm and soothing tone, as she throws one of his arms over her shoulder to keep him vertical as they walk to the infirmary. It's a tone she's learned to use whenever someone barges in on her in the middle of the night injured and looking like they've just gone through hell. Declan fits the bill right now.
Ray gently sits him on one of the infirmary cots and begins gabbing supplies.
r a y
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus
do not mistake me for my mask you see light dappling on the water
Declan's not sure what the fuck Ray's doing when she stares into his eyes, and if it weren't for the situation at literal hand, he might've made some crack about it. But he can't even stop and think about that, and fortunately she takes literally two seconds before she already starts talking at him. Her words hit his ears in an auditory blur, and he furrows his brows as if he doesn't speak her language.
Then, his brain allows a gap in its racing adrenaline to register what she's said. It definitely helps that she's trying to be calming, but it's a bit late for any of that. Declan can't decide whether he wants to punch a hole through the brand new walls or drink himself into oblivion. There's memories, trauma resurfacing, brought on by all of this body business.
He shrugs into her, perhaps putting a little too much of his own weight on her. He's halfway between hugging her and collapsing, though, so he just helps her help him into a cot before he's completely crashing.
"Fuck, Ray, I done somethin' ya ain' gonna like," the words that leave him are breathy, uncharacteristically honest and they're a warning. Right now, he doesn't have the energy or the mettle to gloss his words with charm or cleverness. Whether he's referring to today or a different day, even he doesn't know, as he slumps into the cot.
This is the part of adrenal crash where Declan has poor control over his emotions. As he slouches on the cot, staring down at his bloody hand, peeling away the cloth that's barely keeping pressure on it, a silent sob shakes through him. "I'm sorry," the words are muffled through his pain, and he brings his cut hand up to rub his tears and all of the dirt away, to rub the stress from his temple. Inadvertently, or maybe he doesn't care, he gets blood all across his face. "I shouldn'a come here," his eyes, glazed over, open and he can feel the panic rise again. "I have to leave, I shouldn't'a come here."
"A lot of people have done things I haven't liked. Still doesn't mean I'm going to let them bleed out." Ray says simply, finishing grabbing her supplies and turning back to Declan. She's about to ask to see his hand when it's obvious that the adrenaline crash has kicked in. Ray feels her heart crack when he starts crying and apologizing.
Ray walks over slowly and gently places a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting. Her other hand gently pries his injured one from his face. She wanted to treat it immediately given the severity but first Ray needed to make sure he wasn't about to have a panic attack. "You're not going anywhere right now. You are safe here. Ok? You're safe Declan. But I need you to calm down if you can. Focus on you're breathing. Inhale for 4 seconds, exhale for 6 seconds. Ok? Can you do that for me?"
r a y
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus
do not mistake me for my mask you see light dappling on the water
There's a quiver pulsing through his arms, shaking his hands, a combination of the blood loss and all those tossing emotions that clench at his heart. The sound of the ocean churning and a woman's screams of terror haunt his ears to the point where he barely hears Ray's comment from where she rummages through her supplies.
His gaze drags up towards her as she nears, trembling fingers pushing down on the skin of his face. A muffled, choked sound comes out as he relents his wounded hand for her to examine.
She tells him he's safe and he wants to believe her, but he knows he's not - he couldn't be. "N-" he shakes his head, "there's someone out there killin' people... I can't tell you much more'n that..." but he owes it to Ray's father to at least warn her. He also knows the kind of business she runs at night in the back of her shop, part of why he'd locked the door behind him. He didn't want anyone else hearing about this, especially not those kind of people. "You gotta be careful, Ray. People ain't like you, they don't always wanna help."
But he quiets to follow her instructions, sucking in heavy breaths and trying to still his racing mind.
It doesn't last long. "I shouldn' a come here, they might be followin' me..." and he doesn't want to put her in danger, "I took care of somethin' they did but I don't know who they are, Ray. It coulda been anyone. They might have eyes on your place." His shoulders tense with the paranoia.
Ray's eyes narrowed in concern, her thoughts racing Declan's words sent a shiver down her spine. Something was killing people? Fuck. "She nodded at his warning. "I'll be careful. I swear." Her concern grows as his panic returns. Just what mess had Declan gotten himself into? Gotten her into?
Ray took a deep breath, letting out a heavy sigh. "I understand but I'm glad you did come. That way I can at least give your injuries a quick look over. If things are as precarious as you say, then you need to be in top condition." She paused. "And if anyone has eyes on my place or tries to harm me, well I've got some friends who will back me up. And don't forget that I'm not afraid to bite a bitch if I need to." It was partially a joke, but Ray truly would bite someone fi she had to, regardless of if she were in human or panther form.
Ray quickly began to tend to his injuries, staring with his hand. Giving it a thorough cleaning with a warm towel, she then spread a numbing cream on it. "Don't bite your tongue." She warned and set about the task of suturing it. Once that was done, Ray applied a healing ointment and wrapped it in gauze. Moving efficiently, she tended to his other injuries. Thankfully nothing else required stitches but he was sure to be hurting tomorrow.
Ray gave a last look over her work, nodding in satisfaction. She then washed her hands and returned to his side. "How do you feel? Do you need anything for the pain or to help you sleep?"
r a y
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus
03-03-2021, 11:54 PM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2021, 11:55 PM by Declan.)
DECLAN
do not mistake me for my mask you see light dappling on the water
Declan's gaze lands back on Ray as she wades through his frenzy of panic, his eyes searching her face for any hint of fear. All he finds is concern, most likely for him, and his expression slacks. She probably doesn't realize the gravity of the situation, and maybe that's for the best. Maybe it's better for her if he just gets sewn up and leaves... but gods, he's tired.
"I hope ya know what yer doin'," he mumbles, clenching his jaw as she goes in with her needle and thread to stitch up the slice across his palm. Of course, he's not talking about the suture. She probably knows that.
It goes by faster than he expects and, when it's all over and done with, he lets out a long sigh of relief. At least some of the pain is gone, for now. He doesn't imagine he'll manage to keep something like this closed for very long, considering that there are already ideas beginning to form in his head, replacing his paranoia with a grim determination to set out to find who it is. He won't stay the night, likely to leave after she thinks he's asleep, but for now he'll stay. Recover some of his grit.
He looks up as she comes back, brows lifting tiredly, "A drink. Have one with me, 'fore 'm passed out."
Ray nods grimly. "More then I think you'd expect." She notes softly as she puts the rest of the supplies away. Even if her mom had tried to keep her away from it all, one didn't grow up under Felix Lunarium's tutelage without seeing things. She'd learned how to keep secrets from a young age, and as such when she took over the network she was fully exposed to just how dark the underside of Torchline was. How dark all of Caido could be. And with that she'd learned how to navigate it and survive it. She may have been knew to personally running an information network, but Ray was far from new to the underground.
"I'll take a drink. Could certainly use one. I think I have some whiskey in the back. Does that work?" Ray agreed easily. Alcohol would settle both of their nerves. And hopefully make Declan more inclined to sleep.
r a y
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus
03-09-2021, 04:46 AM (This post was last modified: 03-09-2021, 04:47 AM by Declan.)
DECLAN
do not mistake me for my mask you see light dappling on the water
He sinks back against the wall the cot's put up against, thinking on Ray's parents, on how well she's done in spite of their absence from her life. How she's managed to salvage a life out of the things her parents left in her name. How she carries on with a bright spirit in spite of the fact that she's alone. It's something he could never do.
"Aye, I reckon that'll work," he nods with a slight smile, and if he had room for humor he might've laughed at the question. Was there ever a problem whiskey couldn't solve?
So he remains in the cot, waiting for her to retrieve the alcohol, and when she gives him his glass he'll make a toast to her. "To you, Ray," he'll say, voice low and clear, "your parents would be proud."
And they won't drink for long, because he'll eventually feign that he has to sleep. When she leaves him to it, he'll stay for only a little while before sneaking out. It'll be the last time she sees him, too, because a worse fate awaits him in the tunnels beneath Torchline.
