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!
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
Aurelia's steps have begun to falter every now and then, but she pushes on anyway, lurching forward with Rigby's arm across her broadened shoulders. Her hand squeezes around his wrist with a subconsciously vicelike grip.
Her anger has not dissipated with time and expelled energy. It continues to pulse through her, renewed with every step that takes her towards the safety of Milo's loft. She hasn't said anything to Rigby, not by way of apologies or further explanation, not by way of much at all.
They hobble onto the porch and Aurelia practically strikes the doorknob, realizing that it's unlocked and that would mean Milo is home. She pauses, but there's a bloody bum clinging to her for help so she doesn't waste much more time on being relieved or regretting. How she feels doesn't really matter now.
The front door swings open and Aurelia heaves Rigby inside, grunting with the effort. Milo is, indeed, home; he's right at the front of the shop, working on something or other. Aurelia can't really tell what; it's hard to pay attention to the details at the current moment.
"Heyy, Milo! You're home. Good," she manages, strained voice taking on a lighter tone that's ill-placed, "I brought ya somethin'." She then manhandles Rigby into the nearest chair, as if in emphasis.
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
this is for the snakes and the people they bite for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
He’s cooking something, a bit of fish for the evening. Aurelia isn’t back so far so he hasn’t planned on cooking something up for her, but he manages to get the crust of the fish to a nice golden brown, the scent of it wafting through the shop, as he sets it on a plate and blows out the fire. He slides the pan over right when Aurelia opens the door and he quietly curses himself for having not made another.
It seems to not matter much, he hasn’t seen Rigby yet, and the prospect of something brought to him has him raising his brows, casting his gaze over to see none other than the street rat himself. “Oy! It’s the street rat?” He chimes with an amused grin, until of course, he sees the sorry state the kid is in.
“Fuckin’ Frey what happened?” He curses, stepping over the shop in easy strides to move toward the chair Aurelia’s put Rigby in. Instantly latching onto that magical part of him, his hands glow a fraction, hovering at his sides as he tries to determine where Rigby is bleeding out from.
His gaze lifts to Rigby’s face, brows pinching in concern. “Where’s it comin’ from?” He asks swiftly, so he knows where to place his hands to try and heal the wound.
for the warning signs i've completely ignored there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
If the arrowhead in his leg wasn't torture enough, digging in and tearing more and more with each step, then the fact that he needs knife bitch's help is more than enough to make him completely miserable. God he hates her, he hates his shitty luck, he hates the fucking world for this and that. It all makes him so angry, so ridiculously pissed. So he tries not to focus on her, on his leg, on anything at all really, he just wants to walk and keep going until she gets him somewhere that someone can help.
Her house would not be his first choice, but he didn't care enough nor have the breath capacity as it is to give a snarky remark. So he allowed her to drag him in through the door, his whole body slouched onto the unwounded leg, leaning into whatever rough support she offered, which wasn't much. He grunts, seethes as she dumps him into a chair, his hands shoot down to his leg when the pain shoots through again.
Rigby didn't notice Milo, too preoccupied with his own dismal state until the redhead was right next to him, hands glowing and eyes wide. The scraggly and dirty looking street rat scowled, and he snapped back at the man, "From the fucking arrow in my leg you idiot," his voice is a growl, somehow more feral than usual.
i'll make you understand and you can trade me for an apparition
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
Milo's warmth is enough to light a room and it gives Aurelia a flash of contrasting emotions. Like remembering what happened the last time he used his healing, how it had brought up certain, darker memories for her. She pushes that back, though, swallowing hard and taking a step aside to let him get a look at Rigby.
The light from his hands doesn't illicit such a negative response in her now, now that she's delved into her own magics, gotten more used to how things just are. His readiness to help is a boon among all of this fuckery anyway. He's not upset either, that's good, and she hopes he won't be later. As for what happened, she doesn't know how to answer that and finds that she's unable to speak for herself.
Then Rigby opens his indignant, ungrateful mouth, and honestly? It ought to be answer enough. Aurelia's jaw tightens into a hard clench and her fingers ball into fists as she fights the urge to toss him, or punch him in the nose. No, she wouldn't do that.
But she does lean forward and tear the arrowhead right out of his leg - something she's been wanting to do for a while now. Blood spurts out in response and she could care less at this point. "Who's the idiot?"
She looks at Milo then, mixed emotion winding her brows together, "I shot him."
She moves away more fully then, to get away from the pressure of it all and cool off, finding a bin to dispose of the bloody stick. There's nothing else she can say about it, not as she pulls off her cloak and sets it on a clear space on the counter, then moves to take off the bow and quiver slung over her shoulders.
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
this is for the snakes and the people they bite for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
Milo’s gaze darts up to Rigby’s face – not particularly taking much heed of the kid’s words, after all, Milo’s probably not too kind when he’s in pain either. But he does manage to look back down and spy the arrowhead, precisely at the time that Aurelia reaches down and pulls the fucking thing out. He curses under his breath as the blood spurts, getting onto his hands and arms and immediately his hands dart toward it, to cover the wound with both of his glowing palms.
He forces his healing magic to work, to try and close and clot the bleeding, but it might take a few times to do so. Already he can feel the pang of his exhaustion lingering on his mind. “Wha.. Why’d y’shoot him?” He asks Aurelia, lifting his gaze to look over at where Aurelia settles, brows still drawn in concern, before his gaze flickers back to Rigby.
“You stay still. Should b’over soon.” He half mutters his command, before he’s focusing on the healing again. “’Relia, get ‘im a shota rum ‘n a smoke.” That’d make this easier, all things considered.
But still, he’s confused as to what the fuck happened.
for the warning signs i've completely ignored there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
Maybe Rigby should've learned that he was playing with fire, that Aurelia was not at all the 'princess' who cared. His crude sass wasn't aimed at her though, so he didn't see it coming when she shoved forwards, leaned in, and yanked the rest of the arrow out. The pain made his vision go dark for a moment, the yelp that escaped him felt disjointed, not at all part of him.
He blinked into the present as Milo asked why she'd shot him, his magic beginning to work the street rat back into coherent thought. Breathing heavy he half snarled half snorted, "she hates me," which seemed adequate, and fair to them both. The order to stay still has Rigby's gaze pulled from the potential threat at the counter back up to Milo, down to his magic hands as they did their work. It felt weird, but Rigby didn't have it in him to care much. As long as it wasn't inflicting pain, he welcomed it with arms wide open.
i'll make you understand and you can trade me for an apparition
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
She's leaning over her equipment when Milo asks her why, which is expected, and so is his panic. She feels worse for that than the actual pain she's inflicted on Rigby. Her gaze hovers up to meet the bronze of his eyes but she doesn't offer an answer, lips drawn tightly shut.
Of course, Rigby answers and she finds that his answer combined with the look on Milo's face quells her temper as guilt more officially sets to take its place. "I don't hate you, you absolute child," she grumbles, not that it'll mean much. She turns away to find the rum and cigarettes kept in cupboards or drawers, finding a small glass as well.
When she returns, she puts the glass into Rigby's hand and shoves the cigarette between his lips. Then, Aurelia reaches inward for her power and sets the cherry ablaze in a roaring flash of more flame than is necessary. If a bit of it sears the ends of Rigby's hair, so be it, but it's gone as soon as it's there.
"I could've left you there," she remarks quietly, though her coldness is gone now, still feeling the warmth of her own flames as they beckon within her. But she doesn't heed it, lifts her chin, and states more curt, "So.. quit whining. It won't do you any good." She would know, having been through similar if not worse. She looks him up and down for a moment before she turns to look at Milo.
She can see the faint shadow of exhaustion in his face and can see that the wound on Rigby's leg has been more or less clotted. Her bloodied hand reaches out to touch Milo's shoulder, green gaze starkly softer as she regards him with some hesitance. "You don't have to heal him completely, if it's too much."
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
this is for the snakes and the people they bite for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
Rigby’s yelp inadvertently makes Milo shudder, a visible flinch from the sound before he’s directing Aurelia to helping him when it came to things to help alleviate the pain. The mention of Aurelia hating Rigby is also confusing. As far as Milo knew, there wasn’t much to be said about the kid. Milo didn’t hate him. Milo hardly knew him, truth be told.
So he lets his magic pour through Rigby, again and again, gritting his teeth after a brief moment once Aurelia’s joined them. Her hand on his shoulder catches him suddenly and his gaze lifts toward her after noticing she’s given the kid exactly what he’d asked her to, and Milo shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I c’n do it. Jus’ a lil bit long’r I think…” He says, tilting his head back toward the wound to see the skin knit itself back together. At the very least, it should feel fine to Rigby now if not a bit sore, and perhaps a bit itchy with how fast the skin heals around it.
And before long, he’s done – the glow disappearing in his hands as he sits back on the floor and peers up at both Rigby and Aurelia. “Now… Someone wanna tell m’what the fuck’s goin’ on?” A surprisingly expectant bronze gaze lifts to Aurelia and Rigby in turn.
for the warning signs i've completely ignored there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
Yeah, Milo hardly knew him, and neither did Aurelia but somehow she knew him a bit better. In most cases that qualified hate, he wasn't particularly liked by anyone he could think of. Not that he cared, when she grumbled under her breath that she didn't in fact hate him, proceeding to call him a child, he just rolled his eyes and huffed. As if, even the ones that openly hated him didn't shoot him in the leg.
The healing goes on, slowly the pain begins to diminish but that doesn't quell the ache in his limbs and tension in his shoulders. When Aurelia actually brings him some painkillers he is a bit surprised. The rum in his hand is ignored, but he eagerly accepts the cigarette, flinching a little when she sparked the cherry to life with her fingers. He inhaled quickly, taking a long draw and letting it work it's magic in his lungs, before expelling the smoke from his nose. It's calming, but never quite calming enough for a twitchy rat like him.
His eyes snapped back to the knife bitch as she spoke, her gaze grazing over him with less malice than usual. His brows pinch, he sneered behind the cigarette, "Why not then?" he poked, prodded, and instigated. It was never quite an answer that Rigby wanted, more the reaction.
He noticed how soft she was with Milo, the way her hand (though gnarled with red) touched gingerly at his shoulder. What the fuck was this, domestics? He glared at her comment, luckily Milo decided to finish pushing through. Soon the wound was closed, the quickest healing process he'd ever gone through, even though it still pinched and ached when he tried to put pressure on it. Milo's question was valid, but for the moment Rigby had nothing to say, he just blew a puff of smoke, slowly blinking Aurelia's way.
i'll make you understand and you can trade me for an apparition
04-02-2021, 01:54 AM (This post was last modified: 04-02-2021, 01:55 AM by Aurelia.)
AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
Rigby's provoking and her lip twitches at him, animalistic, anger pulsing through her, but she says nothing. Any comments she has to come back at him with are dropped, let go, as she notices the tire of Milo's features with concern.
But Milo continues, much to her uneasy relief. She watches keenly as Rigby's wound seals itself up, the skin stitching back together as if being plucked by an invisible needle, and her brows furrow at the sight of it. But at least he's not in any real danger now, and she's free to toss him back into the chaos of the streets when they're done here. Which she has full intention of doing.
Milo reels back onto the floor and Aurelia's gaze follows him, though. Her expression draws blank when he asks what's going on, and suddenly she's running a hand over her curls. "Like I said," she blows out a sigh, "I shot him."
At this, she turns away and makes to grab her own cigarette. Embers crinkle to life without need for a match and she takes a quick puff, searching for a reasonable explanation only to find that there isn't one. "Fuckface tried to steal from me once already," her glaring words direct more fully towards Rigby then, pointed and sharp, "where I'm from, that's reason enough to kill. In spite of that, I've done nothing but try to help you," and for a moment she sounds hurt, but the heat of her anger overwhelms that, "Not anymore. You're the idiot, and I'm done." Does she mean it? MaYbE not... but ultimately, she's pissed and bristling like a defensive animal at this point.
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
this is for the snakes and the people they bite for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
Rigby stays quiet, and that leaves it up to Milo to focus his attention on Aurelia and what she has to say about it, now that he’s finished his job. His hands are still covered in blood much like Aurelia’s are but he pays it little mind – his gaze dancing between Rigby and Aurelia where the problem certainly is. “’Relia he jus’…” He sighs, leaning back on the floor on his hands with a bit of an exasperated look to his face. “Sure he can b’ shitty, but gods, fer the love’a Frey, some people jus’ don’ want help. Y’can’t force ‘em to.” He sighs, remaining there as his gaze turns to Rigby.
And it’s a surprisingly hard stare, given everything, before he leans up and snatches the rum from Rigby that he hasn’t touched yet and downs the contents. “’n as fer you, y’gotta fuckin’ know when t’pick yer battles, kid.” He says after he finishes the glass and hisses at the burn. “Steal from th’one’s that can’t kick yer ass fer it.” Alright, so maybe he’s got some questionable morals after all. “’r ya learn to run fast’r, fuck.”
He moves to stand, to set the glass on the table and to pluck the cigarette from Aurelia’s lips to place into his own, before he’s moving to wash his hands clean of the blood that coats them, staring down at the sink rather hard. “So what’s th’plan now, huh?” Or had nobody thought that far?
for the warning signs i've completely ignored there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
It was really that simple in a way. He hadn't done much to instigate, or so he thought, she'd just fired off. He watched with squinted eyes as she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, he could almost see the gears spinning as she tried to piece it together. Maybe this time, Rigby wasn't the one who'd fucked up, and it kind of felt satisfying. Nothing but try to help you, this did draw a glare back to his face. "I never fucking asked for it did I?" he growled, biting down on the roll between his teeth.
His moment of frustration simmered as she finished, returned to that cool glare he so often wore, cold but brimming with some kind of distaste. Then Milo was speaking, and for the moment that it seemed he was on Rigby's side, the street rat preened, lounging back and watching Aurelia's face with a trace of a smirk. When the words were fired at him, the glass pulled from his hands, he replied in a low sardonic tone, "Anyone can kick my ass, and I was gonna get away with it if she didn't have magic. 'ts cheating."
Rigby remained in his chair, sinking further when they moved from his space, he gave another smokey sigh. Once again, he had no input here, they could toss him out, give him a room for the night, he didn't care much. A warm place to sleep would be nice, would probably give him a chance to sift through some drawers, but he was used to uncomfortable nights alone.
i'll make you understand and you can trade me for an apparition
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
Aurelia's glare flames with anger and her shoulders rise with tension as Milo and Rigby both square the same argument against her, that she shouldn't have even tried, and she roils at the feeling of being an impulsive fucking idiot, of their gazes pinning on her together, feeling suddenly very small and so stupid.
A heavy breath scoffs out through her nose and her lips tighten into a fierce line. With this, she's no longer an active participant in the conversation. She doesn't want to be. Doesn't want to be here anymore, either. Rigby's comment rolls off her shoulders and she withdraws as much as she can from this, not wanting to dig her hole any further. It's already deep enough to be her grave, anyway.
She can hear the echo of Milo's words in her ears, and she knows he's right, she knows she was wrong to fire the shot. Even now, even thinking he deserved it, even in spite of the way he continues to try and goad her, she feels a sharp sense of guilt. So she slumps her elbows in against the counter and hardly notices when Milo comes over to steal the cigarette from her. Her gaze centers on a spot on the surface of the counter and she doesn't respond to Milo's question, focusing instead on stilling the agitated beat of her blood in her veins.
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
this is for the snakes and the people they bite for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
He pulls the cigarette from Aurelia and pops it between his lips as he moves to wash his hands, pulling a drag off of it as he hears Rigby’s comment and snorts a plume of smoke that causes him to wince as it burns. “Nah, it ain’t.” He offers gruffly, wiping his hands on a clean towel before he’s moving back to Rigby, eyes hard as he stares down at the kid. “you gotta do fuckin’ better, kid.” He snaps, pulling the cigarette from his lips so he can focus on the situation. Nobody’s answered his question, Aurelia’s shutting down, and everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control like trying to figure out who stole the cookies from the cookie jar between two toddlers.
They’re all adults, right?
He rubs at his face with a groan, before he’s moving back to Aurelia and handing the cigarette back to her if she’ll take it. He leans back against the table, folds his arms across his chest, stares hard at Rigby before he’s exhaling a sigh of confusion, exasperation, and one hand leaves from where he’s folded his arms, to run his fingers along Aurelia’s hand – a gentle brush. “’Relia go clean up yer hands, ‘kay?” A gentle prompt to the dried blood on her hands still.
His head swings back to Rigby and his gaze is a bit harder. “’n you, d’ya like sleepin’ in the streets? I know y’don’ like talkin’ an’ y’do like stealin’. What if y’had a job doin’ exactly that.” Not talking, doing some secretive shit, and sure, sleeping in the streets when he wants to. Sounds like a dream, right?
for the warning signs i've completely ignored there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
