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!
The crackle, pop, snap of the fire is almost distracting enough that Locke doesn't quite feel so on edge. Except it's not enough to keep him from bouncing his leg or taking a long draw of his cigarette. He's got a nervous energy he can't quite place. It's been awhile since he's done anything more than pick pocketing and his wallet is feeling a bit light. He needs to find something substantial soon but he refuses to work for anyone long term. Maybe it's time for that to change.
He inhales, running his free hand through his already mussed up hair. Maybe he'll start a fight for the hell of it. Burn off some of this.. Nervous.. Or maybe he'll get a drink. Someone around here has got to have booze, right? Surely he can sweet talk them out of a few drinks. Locke growls, flicking the cigarette into the fire with no small measure of frustration.
02-24-2021, 09:40 AM (This post was last modified: 02-24-2021, 09:42 AM by Aurelia.)
but if you're broken
Aurelia wanders along the shoreline, letting her toes dip into the softer sand as waves wash up to her ankles. There's a cigarette dangling from her fingers which she occasionally takes a lazy drag from. She's not a partier, so she finds it hard to integrate herself into the rowdier crowds that scatter along the coast. Although she would appreciate some company about now, she thinks.
So when her green gaze flickers over the sands towards a lone fire, she spots the man near to it. Boldly, she makes a B-line for him. There is a bottle of sweet spiced rum that hangs limply from her other hand, though it's still plenty full if one takes a closer look.
Upon coming closer, she spies a glimpse of the scars that line his skin and raises her brows. This is when he tosses his cigarette in the flames with an audible growl. It makes her pause but a smirk twists her expression. "Bit o' rum for your thoughts, big guy?" She hoists the bottle in his direction as an offer and pulls a flaring drag from her cigarette.
He looks up when the woman approaches him, eyes roving over her in a maybe not so pure kind of way. She's got scars and she looks like his kind of people. He both loves and hates that about her. But then again, you can't always judge a book but its dinged up cover. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he holds his hand out for the bottle. "I suppose that's a fair trade." Not that he's actually going to tell her what he's feeling. Maybe some proximation of it but nothing too.. revealing. That's not his kind of game.
He pats the little log next to him, inviting her to sit. It's quite at this end of the beach, a little ways away from the rest of the partying. Good for talking as if that's something he does. He's mostly here because he doesn't want to be in the crowd. He parties, from time to time, but today isn't one of those. "Can I get a name?" Not that he cares, he's just.. being polite.
02-24-2021, 10:31 AM (This post was last modified: 02-24-2021, 10:32 AM by Aurelia.)
but if you're broken
Wandering eyes go ignored; she doesn't care one way or another if he likes what he sees. The bottle's handed over readily and she murmurs a quiet 'mhm' of agreement.
She accepts the invitation to sit with a pleased air, propping her elbow up on one knee and hunching forward to rest her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze travels over the bottle in his hands up to his face, where she spies a distinctly crooked feature to his nose. Everything about this guy screams 'fighter' and it sparks her interest, wondering what kind of shit he's gotten himself into - and how the other guy looked afterward.
"Name's Aurelia," she answers without missing a beat, lowering her cigarette away from her lips to let it smolder in the cool air. She inclines her head a bit and raises her eyebrows expectantly at him, silently asking for his own name.
Whether he gives it or not is up to him. Anyway, she'll probably keep calling him 'big guy'. She moves on to ask, "So, what's got you in a mood at a time like this? Partying isn't your thing?"
He takes a swig, sighing softly as the alcohol warms him up just a bit. He hands the bottle back to her, giving her a little nod. "You can call me Locke." One of many aliases but his favorite, the one he prefers to go by most of the time. After all, he does want some notoriety. Some day. "Nice to meet ya." Pleasantries aren't his thing but he'll be.. nice. She's given him no reason not to.
Locke gives her another look over, watching her take a drag off her cigarette before lighting another one of his own. "It is and it isn't. Not feeling it tonight I guess." Today. Whatever the time is. He stopped caring about it already. He sleeps when he has time. He takes a slow drag off the cigarette, flicking the ashes into the fire as he turns back to it.
"Honestly? I'm bored. Kinda wanna.. shake things up but not really sure how at the moment." Close enough to the truth he thinks. Hazel eyes meet green as he looks over at her, "What about you?"
02-24-2021, 11:32 AM (This post was last modified: 02-24-2021, 11:36 AM by Aurelia.)
but if you're broken
She takes the bottle and a generous swig along with it. Locke. Interesting name. It reminds her of the sorts of names she'd come across in her home; strong, one-syllable names like his were commonplace among the working class. She supposes that her parents had bigger aspirations for her when they chose hers... "Likewise," she says with a slight smile.
At his revelation of 'not feeling it tonight', Aurelia shrugs. It's hard for her to always feel like she belongs in Caido, even though she's confident in calling this place her home now. It's a conflicting emotion.
"Shake things up, huh?" She echoes with a smirk, but at the question being turned around on her she straightens her shoulders and sighs. "Well, this is my first Longnight. Haven't really been here long and I never used to go to parties so I'm... trying to have fun, just.. not like that," and she directs her gaze towards a roving group of lively people bustling about in the nearer distance, who are clearly drunk and beligerent.
She pauses to inhale and exhale another puff of smoke, blowing a practiced circle into the still air. A small, satisfied smile at the achievement, she glances back over at Locke and asks, "What do you normally do?" And how could it be shook up?
"First one huh? Not a bad place to be for that kinda thing. Lots of other places got the shit end of the stick. We just get to party." He kind of scoffs, shaking his head as he follows her line of sight to the other groups. He's been there, done that. He was younger once and the booze was always more enticing than anything else. Maybe this year he'll settle for a different kind of party. If only he can figure out what that is.
When she asks what he does, he raises one scarred eyebrow. Is she seriously asking him that? Here? Surely she knows he's not going to give her a straight answer. "Well. Usually I do what gets me the things I need." Booze, cigs, women, men, you know. The usual. He looks back at her, taking a long draw off his cigarette. Something about her makes him think she gets it. Maybe the scars? He's not sure. "Mm, I just do whatever falls in my lap."
Aurelia nods in confirmation of it being her first Longnight and then tilts her head in agreement that Torchline probably is good place to be for it. "'s not a bad place to be in general. I've visited... the Grounds?" her brows press together as she recalls what that was like, "Reminded me of home in an.. unpleasant way. Yep, I think I'll stay right here-" she points down at the sand beneath her feet, "-on the beach. Till I die."
Maybe not literally. But it's a promise she feels warmed by and, for all it's worth, she kind of fuckin' plans to see it through. She's got all she needs here, if she's honest. And if she ever doesn't? Suppose that she can smuggle it. Except for the certain sort of things you can't buy, like an ornery captain and two redheads that bring a lot of light to the otherwise dark days, but she's not truly lacking in any of those now.
She smiles and wiggles her toes deeper into the sand.
You know what, so be it if Locke doesn't want to be upfront, that's fine! She'll take what he does tell her and absolutely run with it anyway.
"So, what you're saying is, you'll do anything for a bottle of spiced rum?" She shakes the bottle and arches a brow in his direction, suddenly thinking she can get some innocent entertainment out of this.
He takes another puff, kind of nodding. "S'how I feel. Was born here, probably gonna die here too. S'fine. Like the sand and the waves enough. Company isn't too bad either." As if he keeps regular company. Maybe soon though. Who knows. He flicks the ashes, leaning back as he thinks. Used to have his siblings around but they've all gone off to do other things. Sure, he's got the little ones back home but he's not too keen on being around his parents anymore. Yeah, no, he's kind of alone isn't he? It suits him well enough though. No one to get hurt if he makes a mistake.
The swishing of the bottle catches his attention and he turns to look at it and then her. He raises one eyebrow, a common look really, "I suppose. Was pretty good rum. Do you have something in mind?" Locke sits back up, twisting to look at her more properly, trying to figure out what she's thinking.
It's good to know they're on the same page about that. Torchline is kind of the place to be, by all accounts, and Aurelia's here for it. Might even argue on its behalf, herself. "Now how we die, that's the real mystery," she adds with a clever smirk. Giving it a moment of thought, she decides, "I'll probably go down with the Ark, knowing the kinda shit it gets into. But I will go down kickin' and screamin', you best believe."
The raise of his brow pries her smirk into a mischievous, plotting grin. She tosses her cigarette butt into the fire and nods to him. "Alright, I like to give people options, so here's yours: either you show me your best dance moves, or tell me what you really do for a living. Seem fair?" There is no way it's fair, especially considering she doubts he can actually dance - and if there's any music around, it's distant and muffled.
He's not sure his death will be a mystery. Probably gonna die on these sands of something he did, bleeding out on the warm grit. It's fine, that's how he wants to go. How he deserves to go. He is no hero and not fit to be buried. He kind of chuckles, nodding slowly as she speaks. "The Ark huh? Sounds about right." He's heard of it, maybe even worked with them. Not directly of course but still. He's at least aware of them. But that means she's cut from a similar cloth as him.
The look she gives him makes his face fall but only for a second before he's rolling his eyes. She's right, he can't dance. Not to save his god damn life. Actually, he has very little rhythm outside of fighting and fucking. Just not his thing really. He clicks his tongue, "Rude." Not that she's actually being rude but.. She is.
"Fine. To spare your delicate eyes from the atrocity that is my dancing, I really do whatever. A little smuggling. A little fighting. Whatever puts food on the table. Surely not all that different from you." Maybe a little pickpocketing..
She's not surprised he knows of it. Most people would if they spend any length of time in Torchline, or at least she thinks they would. Nothing really happens around here without the smugglers having a hand in it, or everything to do with it.
Locke rolls his eyes and Aurelia lets out a triumphant cackle, but she lets him finish speaking entirely before she puts in her own input. "Oh, don't pretend you didn't see it coming. When you put something like that on the table, you ought to expect people to take advantage." She smirks, though truly her intentions are at least the good sort. She could've asked him to do something a lot more self-deprecating or tried to blackmail him. But she really just wanted a bit of the truth. Opening the bottle, she takes a small drink from it and then forks it over. "You're lucky I'm nice."
She watches him as he takes it, if he would, and narrows her eyes thoughtfully. No, what he does isn't all that much different from her, but that's not the part that catches her interest. "So you like to fight, huh?"
The man flicks the rest of his cigarette into the fire, watching it be eaten up by the embers. "Maybe I just like playing coy." He gives her a little grin, taking the bottle and drinking some. He hisses as the liquid makes its way down. He's got a little buzz going and he hopes to keep it up. He roll his eyes at her again, shaking his head. "Nice? Is that what you call this? I'd say you're pretty rude." Locke has absolutely no reason to call her rude honestly. She let him off pretty easily and gave him rum. What's so rude about that? But he is only playing. It's not a mood that strikes him often but not one he's against.
Locke nods at her last question, taking another drink and swirling the bottle slowly. "Honestly? Kind of wish I could make a life of it. One thing I really enjoy doing. Besides, you know, drinking and other pleasurable things." He kind of laughs, running his free hand through his hair. "All just really like hitting people. What about you? You like to get in the ring?"
02-27-2021, 11:28 AM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2021, 11:32 AM by Aurelia.)
but if you're broken
She arches a speculative brow at his announcement of her being rude, finding the suggestion more than amusing considering it is her booze he's drinking. "I didn't have to share, you know," she states matter-of-factly, jutting her chin upward with a slight smile, "I could've left you here, alone and sober. If this is your idea of rude, then I guess I am." She shrugs lightly, not remotely offended but playing along anyway.
As for making a life of it, Aurelia never had that ambition. It was moreso due to circumstance and she had a knack for it that couldn't be ignored. In large part, she regrets most of that part of her life now, but her skills will never go to waste...
She's not sure if that will always be a good thing.
Her expression darkens and her gaze drifts away. "I didn't start fighting for the hell of it," she finally says, "I did it because fighting meant I could make a better living. Not because I wanted to make a living out of it... but at the time, I was willing to take high risks for high rewards, and.. the rush can be addicting," she smirks, trying to force her voice to lighten a little. "I usually practice at the Slagveld. Gotta stay sharp."
There is a bit more mirth that lights up her gaze as she peers playfully over at him, though, "Maybe I'll see you there sometime."
