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!
This time last year, Nate had been wrapped up at home, comfortable and warm. At least, that’s what he thinks. And it’s a thought that’s hard to put out of mind as he steps out of the comfort of the jungle onto the sandy beaches of Torchline, only to be immediately assaulted by wind and sea spray. Monsoon season is somehow more miserable than he remembers, more miserable to deal with from the middle of it.
Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Nate makes his way up the beach, keeping to the tree line as much as possible. It’s not much of a defence, but it’s something. At least the house is closer than Haulani, closer than even the old house had been. Even with that though, Nate looks half drowned by the time he shines to the door, a wry grin crossing his lips as he looks at the wood protecting the cracked window in the door.
Keeping his thoughts and his movements as quiet as he can, Nate slips in through the door, the smile still clinging to his lips. Only to drop away when he sees the collection of shoes by the door, the evidence of far more people here than he expects.
Whatever surprise he’d planned on trying fades away as the bond is suddenly thrown wide open, Nate reaching through the ring for the brush of Sunjata’s mind. Sunny? His voice swirls in a current of curdled excitement and stark concern. It makes sense, something happened, people need a place to stay, but all the rationalization in the world doesn’t stop paranoia.
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //
He likes to think he’s done a fairly good job trying to keep all the shit together of housing those from the Halenani after Remi had taken a few of them back with him to Stormbreak, as well as hosting his brother-in-law, as well as trying to raise his daughter among the storms and everything else. What he doesn’t expect, is for Nate’s return to happen before the season changes. The question filters through the blood ring to Sunjata’s mind and he promptly drops the glass he’d been trying to dry off, and it falls into the sink with a loud thunk. At least it hadn’t shattered, so he’s got that going for him.
He even leaves it there, content to simply ignore literally everything in favor for Nate walking back through those doors - the pulsing of relief and overwhelming happiness sparking through the bond as he shifts to his macaw form and slips toward the walkway that Nate’s just stepped into. He lands and turns back into himself with a bright grin on his face, some sort of childish and boyish excitement and anticipation coursing through him as he keeps his distance, unsure of whether or not he can touch him still. “Nate. Skatjie.” He hums with all the relief pouring into his words. “I… Wait, before we do anything I have something to show you.” Making a gesture with his hands to follow him - excited as if he were a child on christmas morning, his steps quicken as they slip toward the stairs. “The, uh, Halenani fell apart so we stretched them out from the Society and the Clinic and here. But that’s not what the surprise is.” He waits a brief moment, trying to ensure that Nate’s still following him.
He’s pretty sure it’s a better alternative for the moment, that Nate might forgive him for not being as overwhelmingly thankful for Nate’s return. Because he reaches a door, knocks a few times, and steps back. “Hey. Open up. I got someone here for you.” He says with a hint of an accented rumble of amusement, moving to step beside Nate and offer a mostly relieved grin.
i know we'll make it anywhere away from here
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
All things considered, Bart is hanging in there. Maybe more like the equivalent of that poster with the kitten hanging from a branch, perilous at best, but he’s clinging to some form of sanity for all he’s worth. Which ain’t much but. Still. You get the gist.
The Halenani’s destruction had led to far more house guests than he’d been warned of. Not great for someone who generally rubs people the wrong way with his mere existence, but he can’t complain when he’s being given free housing and square meals. The land itself is still a confusing jumble, but the names are starting to straighten themselves out in his brain if nothing else.
He still writes in his journal to Nate. It’s a comforting habit, and until he lays hands on his twin he won’t be convinced he’s really alive. Bartholomew’s in the middle of a sentence, lounging on his borrowed bed when the knock comes. Frowning more at the words than the man who speaks them, Bart tucks his pen back into his journal and it finds its way to its home in the inside pocket of his jacket.
Swinging the door open in one swift jerk, his eyes are halfway to suspicious slits and mouth already opening for some form of snarky remark when his eyes land on the aforementioned guest.
Scars and all, he knows that face. That figure. The changes wrought by time and tests of spirit can’t conceal the intrinsic familiarity that sparks the moment Bart lays eyes on his brother. "Jesus fuck it’s really you," he manages to whisper, a little strangled and at a loss for anything better to say. Hand limply falling from the door handle, Bart takes a halting step forward, keenly aware of Sunjata’s presence and his own disbelief in the same moment. “Nate?” It’s a tremulous question, seeking out his older brother’s comfort in a way he hasn’t been afforded for nearly half his life now.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
Nate almost reaches out as the shape of a bird becomes the shape of his husband, want shouting louder than sense. That wait stops him though, his head cocking to the side, soaked hair flipping awkwardly over before he pushes it back out of his face again. ”Something to show me?” Possibilities swirl in his mind, he hadn’t even been gone that long, and the monsoons had been raging almost that entire time, so he struggles to think about what it could be.
Still, Nate trusts his husband, lets himself get infected by the excited radiating off him as they rush through the explanation and up the stairs. Even that latent paranoia doesn’t cling to him quite as fiercely anymore, not now that he’s home, now that things can start to come together properly.
A door is not what he expects, a fact made obvious by the brow raised in Sunjata’s direction, though curiosity overtakes his expression as the attuned knocks, announces them. Someone from the Halenani? He guesses silently, unable to simply be patient as steps ring out from the other side, as whatever this surprise is draws closer, swings open the door.
The cocksure grin plastered on his face slips away as he takes in the man before him. Older than he remembers. Fuller than he remembers. More alive than he remembers.
Nate steps forward at the same time Bart does, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t halt, his arms coming up to wrap his brother in a bear hug that carries the pair of them back into the room. Sunjata will feel a bright buzz, all elation and confusion and relief wrapped in a shiny ball. It’s a long handful of moments before he pulls away, hands moving along Barts shoulder while his eye moves over everything else.
There’s a tremble in his smile that infects his voice when he talks, his nasally accent stronger than Sunjata will have heard before, and trembling in a way he doesn’t think either of them have heard before. ”Is that my fuckin’ jacket you lil shit?”
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //
It had been a shake up for Sunjata too, to say the least. He hadn’t anticipated on having so many within the house, least of all still having them here by the time Nate returned. But, he supposes it can all be pushed aside, specifically for what awaits. As he knocks on the door, Nate’s mental rumble is a balm he hadn’t realized he’d needed so much until it’s there – and he shakes his head. No, not quite. Sunjata offers silently, hearing the footsteps near the door and the Attuned steps aside.
The door swings open and Sunjata’s off to the side as he meets Bart’s gaze, watching as it lands on Nate and the pieces click. Likewise, Nate’s own fire disperses in favor for the quick realization. Sunjata finds he doesn’t have much time to get out of the way as the two brothers reach one another and sink further into Bart’s room. Sunjata, meanwhile, steps in after a moment and folds his arms across his chest, shoulder resting on the doorframe.
“Told you.” Sunjata rumbles to Bart, before his gaze lands on his husband, relishing in the elation and relief that buzzes through him. “I… Can wait, Nate, if you want to catch up with your brother.” He offers quietly, remaining by the entrance.
i know we'll make it anywhere away from here
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
While Sunjata’s smug face would have Bart itching to rearrange it any other time, for today he gets a magnanimous pass. He’ll let it slide considering exactly the person he has ushered to Bart’s door. The ghost from his past, aged and filled out and different in so many ways, but god it’s still his brother. Still his twin, the other half of his soul that he’s been missing for far too long, cruelly torn away before they were ready. Would they ever have been? They’d never gotten the chance to find out.
Bart doesn’t feel the sting of tears, only the wetness that tickles the corners of his mouth as Nate crashes into him like a freight train. His hands come up to clutch desperately at that damnable jacket, the same one he’s fucking wearing. He clings like the child he hasn’t been in so many years, stumbling backwards into his room beneath the force of Nate’s momentum, and hides his tears in his brother’s broad shoulder. It’s not long enough, but at least his arms are still tight around Nate when the man pulls back, and his own watery grin is full of emotions like shattered glass; mixed to hell, impossible to sort through, but gleaming and sharp all the same.
“My fuckin’ jacket now, ain’t it?” It’s bitten back in that same thick accent, feeding off each other instinctively. “‘sides, it was th’only good part’a ya, ‘course I had to keep it,” Bart teases, sharpness dulled by the blatant relief and gratitude that contort his features. He can’t look away from Nate, even when Scarface pipes up in the corner. He doesn’t give a shit what the dude does honestly. He’ll leave that one to Nate.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
Not quite, Sunjata says, like it can at all prepare him for the roller coaster of emotions he’s suddenly dropped into. There’s no better homecoming he could have walked into, no gift better than this one.
”Oh is it?” His arm snakes around Barts neck again, pulling him in close in something that looks like a headlock and feels like a hug. ”I had a fuckin’ car too, what’d you do with that?” Nate knew exactly where his car had gone when he’d had it, traded away for fast cash and a fucking prayer, but hey, maybe if Bart was alive, other things were different too. ”And whaddaya mean was? I lose my face or somethin’?” Deep down, Nate knows this isn’t something he wants to know, but he knows he needs to.
Sunjata’s voice reminds him to breathe, has his eyes fluttering as he comes out of the reminiscent trance he’s in. ”Would uh, would you mind Sunny? It’s just...” Finally, Nate manages to flick his eyes towards his husband, apology clear in the half second their eyes meet, and clearer still through the bond. ”It’s my brother.” His one eyed gaze turns back to Bart, arm loosening enough that they can look at each other again, a disbelieving grin spread over his lips.
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //
There’s something that offers relief within him at the sight of the two of them together – mentally marking the differences and the similarities, mulling it over as he both listens in and doesn’t listen to what they talk about. He notes the accents that meld together, possibly the thickest Sunjata’s heard come from Nate… Ever.
Still, he’s attentive when Nate’s attention turns to him, a brief flickering. “I don’t mind.” He says swiftly, as if it was any consideration that he would be upset by it. If anything, he’s the opposite. He understands. Sunjata doesn’t need to encroach on a reunion where Bart doesn’t trust him and Nate’s still coming to terms with everything.
They should be able to be as emotional of wrecks as they wanted to be without him sticking his fingers into it.
The smile he offers Nate is bright and relieved, nothing but love and understanding flitting across the bond with his words. I understand. You’ll come find me after, yeah? He asks, sure that it’ll happen, before his gaze flickers away from his husband to his brother in law. “Show him the tattoo when you get a chance.” He offers to the other man, before he’s dipping his head in a quiet departure.
And then he’s reaching to close the door as he makes his leave, letting them have all the privacy they needed, to go and clean up the kitchen and do whatever else until he’s tired enough to sleep – fully expecting Nate to take as long as he needed.
Jata OUTTTT
i know we'll make it anywhere away from here
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Fuck but a headlock hasn't felt so good in all his years, and he shoves his shoulder into Nate's ribs from behind, his body immediately remembering a physical language they'd crafted all on their own. "Nailed every girl in town in it then dumped 'er in the Hudson," he mouths back, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt even as his vision goes painfully blurry. It's a lie; he'd cherished that car as clearly as the jacket still on his shoulders, but both of them already know that.
Bart's heart sinks down to his ankles at the next question in his brother's familiar sharp drawl, stricken with grief anew. It's not like he's unprepared or anything, unlike Nate he's had a few days to come around to the idea that surprise, your dead brother isn't dead, just in an alternate world and a robot vampire! Doesn't make it any easier to tell him the nitty gritty about having to watch his twin waste away in a forgotten hospital wing, sallow-eyed and sick.
Distracted by the loosening of the arm around his neck and Nate's single-eyed gaze, Bart traces the scars on his brother's face and tries not to give into the hot rush of protective rage that resurfaces as freshly as if Nate had never died. Though it does lend a certain unnecessary heat to his glare when Scarface's trailing comment registers. "Eat my ass and choke," he responds brightly, his false grin slightly manic and sharp with the promise of vengeance. Hooking his fingers in Nate's shirt, he drags his brother forward as he steps backwards fully into his room and kicks the door shut with his socked foot, grumbling under his breath about nosy in-laws. Only then does he look up through his curls, incapable of parting from his brother's gravity but really fucking reluctant to have their reunion be tainted by this conversation. "Fuck, y'had to go and marry a nosy one, didn't ya?" Looking for any last-minute out he can get his dirty paws on.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
”You little shit.” The words snap out of him as fondly as they ever had. This is so easy, in so many ways, Nate slipping into a pair of shoes he’d through were lost to him forever.
Even with the time they’ve been separated, Nate can feel the shift in Bart as clear as day, sudden heavy concern entering his hands. It’s half automatic, instinctual comfort, and half support. Living in Caido as long as he has now, he’s learned to roll with the punches, to simply accept things as they come up, but he needs to hear it to accept it. It’s not good enough to guess, filling in the blanks in a ways that makes sense, taking into account his own history.
Sunjata says his proper farewells, a final pulse of warm gratitude sent drifting towards the attuned before his parting words really pique Nate’s interest. ”You got a tattoo? My baby brother, like some kind of hoodlum?” A bright hiccuping laugh leaves him, Nate letting himself be dragged into the room proper.
They’ve never lied to each other before, and the ascended doesn’t think they’ll start now. He understands the need for time though, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, it’s a request he grants easily, going along with the distraction for now. ”Thats uh, kinda my own fault.” Nate admits, as sheepish as he can actually manage, which isn’t a lot. ”I didn’t tell him a lot about uh... before this place. I wanted... I dunno, as fresh a start as possible.” After the catastrophe he’d stepped out of.
A heavy sigh leaves Nate as he tips foreword, bumping their foreheads together just a touch too hard to really be comfortable, and pressing himself agaisnt his brother. ”I can’t believe you’re here. But I don’t fuckin’ dream anymore so...” He shrugs, letting the grease of his accent works it’s way over his words, another thing that comes back so naturally it seems like it never left.
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
Whatever weird mix defines a scoff and a laugh is what burbles out of his throat helplessly as they are left to their solitude. It's the first time in years that Bart has felt right. Where they are and how they got here doesn't matter in the slightest to him, all the weirdness and wrongness melting away. Home is where the heart is and all that sappy nonsense, but the reality is that home is where Nate is. And Bart hasn't been home in too many years. He feels small in a way he hasn't since he was a kid, like he can hide in his brother's arms the way he used to when their dad's voice would get too loud through their thin walls, and everything would be okay again. The scar on his throat that never seems to stop itching finally feels like normal skin again.
"Pot kettle bitch, what's with all this new ink?" Calloused hands reaching to chuff at the first available tattoo, really just an excuse to touch, to help cement the proof that Nate is alive and real. Easier changes to focus on instead of the gnarly scars that mar his twin's face. Admittedly Bart is having a hard time caring about the whys of Sunjata's ignorance; Bart cares deeply about any person Nate deigns to love, but right now he wants to pretend he has his twin all to himself for a moment. Their foreheads tap together, and Bart's brows go tight, chest burning like he just drank a fifth in one go as his hand immediately blindly gropes for the nape of Nate's neck. Clinging tightly there as if it could keep Nate from being ripped away again.
"Yeah, I heard yer some kinda techno-vamp now," he snipes weakly, his heart not in it. It takes a few more long moments of sharing his brother's space before Bart pulls away, eyes shot through with red as he begins pulling off his - their? - jacket. Best to rip the bandaid off in one go, right? Luckily he's already wearing a t-shirt beneath it, so it's a matter of hiking up the sleeve a little bit and then turning the inside of his arm up between them, revealing the delicate black script eternally printed there. Nathaniel Wren. Birth and death date tattooed just beneath. His arm hovers there in damning proof of the different lives they'd led. "I uh...yer husband said I died, in your world or timeline or whatever. In mine...in mine I lost you first." Young, too young, and he can still smell the bitter hospital scent and hear the shuffling of bodies against sparse linens in that sad dilapidated wing. His hands begin to shake with the memory of it.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
A hand reaches up to his chest, where his shirt lays casually open despite the storm raging outside, a bright chuckle leaving Nate. ”What, this one?” For anyone else, it would be an impossible task to open a few more buttons without moving his hands at all, but Nate has a few spares, one of them crackling into existence now to show off the less than sentimental image of a snake biting down on a greasy, beady-eyed rat. ”Got it for the old man.” After everything with you, though he doesn’t say that, can’t bring himself to be the one to spoil the moment; he can forgive Bart for it, but he’d never forgive himself.
Pulling away is the absolute last thing on his mind, a shaky laugh leaving Nate as a hand clings to him. ”I missed you too, you fuckin’ loser.” He mutters in an unsteady voice, trying desperately to be a rock. The embrace lasts as long as Bart wants, Nate knowing if it were up to him they wouldn’t move all fucking night. ”Some kinda.” He jokes back, wiping at at his eyes when they finally pull away. ”Y’forgot God.” It isn’t even a real laugh that barks out of him, but it still chokes into a sudden silence as Nate looks at the ink on his brothers arm. Long healed, and all too real.
Reaching out to wrap a hand around his brothers arm, Nate lets a thumb trace over the black ink, over what he was sure had been the only epitaph he’d gotten. There’s a tremble in his jaw, an ache, because fuck, that had always been the silver lining, hadn’t it? That Bart had never had to feel this shit, never had to be incomplete like he was. The hand moves, covering the dates, while his other one comes up to rub at his mouth, like somehow that’ll settle him. ”Yea, you uh... I went to med school for you.” He says suddenly, feeling all over again like it hadn’t been enough, like he needs to babble. ”Made some deals with some people dad knew, worked my way into all kinds of shit I shouldn’t have cause I... I couldn’t let you go without trying, y’know?”
Swallowing, Nate lets his gaze lift again, eye tracing over scars familiar and new, lingering on the one at his throat, the one that seemed newest, before finally lifting to his brother’s eyes. ”I got you back now though, don’t I? And you got me? Fucked up and different but...” Nate shrugs, a shaky smile on his face. ”Its still us.”
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
Whatever it is Nate does, it's fucking weird, and Bart admittedly jumps out of his skin when an extra electric hand unbuttons the shirt his brother's wearing. Of course it's immediately schooled away off his face, as reluctant to show unease now as he had been as a child watching his first horror flick. It's a matter of pride you see. Helps to be distracted by the tattoo that's fully revealed, unable to help the twitch of his lips at the explanation given. "I dunno, he fit the imagery of a snake jus'as well as a rat," he huffs, hands instinctively seeking to pinch at the loose skin of Nate's side before recalling far too late that his twin can't feel it the same way anymore. It's a realization that has him lingering with their foreheads pressed together, needing to soak up his brother's presence a moment more. Appreciating anew Nate's unshakeable nature - forced it may be for Bart's benefit.
"Missed you more," he chokes, vulnerability like alcohol in his throat, burning and caustic with disuse. Where Nate has had years to meet and bond with others who love and support him, Bart has been adrift in an ocean of enforced solitude, and only now is he remembering anew what it's like to open up. It helps that Nate was always that person standing on the same side of the barricade; never locked out in the first place. Nate isn't the only one thumbing away tears by time they part to say the least.
Being reminded of his brother's godlike status makes his stomach go through a topsy-turvy sort of motion that threatens to sweep the ground out from under him again, but all words are stolen from both it seems with the plainness of his own inked arm outstretched between them. How he doesn't know, because logically godhood should be more staggering. Emotionally, well. There's this.
Nate's touch is like a balm to an open wound that never healed, like the needles that had imparted the ink had scored a line too grievous to scab over. Bart's fingers tremble as he stares at his own skin and the way Nate's hand conceals the writing. Replacing an epitaph with a living contradiction. When he manages to wrench his gaze back up, his darker eyes are thick with clouded tears, and his lips tremble with emotion even as they wrench into a sideways grin. "Me too, you ass. Registered nurse." The cheapest, easiest course he'd been able to do for certification so that the hospital couldn't realistically kick him out of the terminal ward he'd haunted ever since Nate's death. Like neither of them had ever climbed back out of that particular hole after watching their other half wither away inside cold, halogen-lit rooms. It's a thought he doesn't want to entertain, but the alternative of considering what his twin had to barter and forsake after Bart's own death is just as bad.
Like a chain cut loose, Nate's last words free him from his frozen state, and Bart tips forward like a felled tree back into his brother's gravity. Free hand reaching for that head of dark hair that matches his own, and pressing his wet eyes to Nate's collarbone this time to erase even more space from between them. "You've got me. I found ya, we're here. Together." Against all odds and human logic. "I love ya," he whispers, strained and hurt as it comes out against Nate's shoulder. Words he'd made sure to say every single day Nate lay in that bed, and yet it had never made up for the days he hadn't. The times taken for granted. Bart won't make the same mistake again, sappiness be damned.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
Nates eyes go wide as his brothers words land, surprise taking its time cross his face while embarrassment rushes right after it. “That would have been so much smarter.” A low, almost hysterical huff of laughter leaves him, a hand coming up to bump his forehead.
Though, clearly it hadn’t mattered much anyway, neither of them apparently successful in keeping their better half intact. And that had always been a kind of silver lining, when Nate could peek through his fingers at the void inside of him. Bart had never known them as anything other than whole. Except he had, was standing there in front of Nate on the other side of a chasm, and he found he didn’t give a shit about any of the pain either of them had felt at all, because they were whole again.
They have a lot to talk about. So much, so much that Nate really can’t even parse any of it. It’s more important to simply hold his brother. He walks them backwards to the bed, gets them snuggled close in a way he hasn’t since they were children hiding away from shouting. Pulls the blanket over them just for extra effect. And he wraps his arms around Bart and squeezes him like he can’t tell how hard he’s holding.
They can talk later.
Fin~<3
but i'm going to be here until i'm nothing but bones in the ground
