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!
There is one thing that Varus is quite good at, and that’s following through with his vows. He’s told Isla that he’d pay her back some day for chopping off his arm and for looking after it while he figures out a way that it might be useful to replace it. And she had informed him that she liked flowers. So what better than to commit that particular thing to memory, spending the latter half of the evening in the night markets in search of flowers — should be easy, given its Flowerbirth after all — and when he’s finally found a bouquet that accurately shows how thankful he is for her chopping off his arm? Well, he picks that one and moves on.
It’s not particularly a cohesive bouquet, not by looks alone, but within it sits moon flowers, night blooming jasmine, and the crowning jewel? Vibrant yellow evening primrose — a flower that only blooms at night. He’s picked these with the idea that given their Ascension, she might get the most appreciation out of them when she’s up and about during the cover of night. But the primrose? That one he’s heard rumors about having something to do with medicine.
So it’s a double bonus, one that despite his harder edges proves that he pays attention to the things around him, the things that are said around him too. And with it bound and ready in his one hand, he slips into the temple, heading straight toward the infirmary, suddenly wondering if she’d be there at all. Luckily (or unluckily for him?) she both is and isn’t. Halfway to the Infirmary, he spies her walking away, doing his best to catch up to her. “Hey! Isla!” He calls out, trotting up to catch up with her.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
Isla has had a long, rough day. Some are better than others, and this one has kicked her ass, in no uncertain terms. An accident on one of the farms had filled the infirmary for much of the evening, and then with all of the paperwork, replenishment, stock checking and so on, Isla is very ready to do something else even with her enthusiasm for her role. She's headed out of the Temple, her hair left loose around her shoulder, her white medical coat replaced by an oversized sweater.
Her name hits the air and she pauses in her footsteps, turning to see her favourite amputee trying to catch up with her. A smile flashing across her face, she slows her steps and tilts her head at the bouquet of flowers. "Hello, Cal. Are you going on a date?" she asks, bouncing her eyebrows at the blooms and imagining how they must smell.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
She slows and he manages to catch up to her, flashing an easier smile (somewhat tinged with a thanks) before his brows are raising, realizing what it looked like. Still, he can play it off easily. “Not as far as I know, haven’t asked though.” He winks to her, and moves to hand her the bouquet, as if it might explain why he had called her name out.
He isn’t wearing much, a dark pair of pants, a long sleeve shirt that’s knitted and soft, tied up on the side with his missing arm, but it’s still oddly charming given the fact that he looks warm despite being anything but. “I told you I’d pay you back for taking off my arm. You had said you liked flowers.” He informs her in case she’s forgotten, a raise of his brow given to her in case she plans to challenge it. “So these flowers for you.”
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Oh?" Isla is confused at first (so sue her, it's been a long day and she's distracted), until he offers out the bouquet towards her and a smile, genuine and bright flashes across her face. "What is this in aid of?" she begins, accepting the flowers from him and leaning in as if to try and smell them. She can't really do any such thing, but it's a reflex she's not yet grown out of. "That is very sweet of you, Cal. You didn't need to," she murmurs, though that is the extent of the polite protests he'll get from her.
"I was just headed out - I'd usually put these in the infirmary so they can brighten the place up, but if I have to step in there again tonight I'm afraid I won't ever leave again, so they can come home with me." Shifting the flowers to cradle them in the crook of her arm, she nods at the tied sleeve of his sweater. "How are you coping?" she asks.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
He doesn’t miss the confusion on her face, but it’s a good thing he’s quick with his explanations. He offers her the reason of giving her the flowers, handing it to her, before his head tilts this way and that, a low hum leaving his throat. “Mmm, well, I know. But I told you I would and you said you like flowers.” He repeats, his gaze dancing along her face a brief moment. “I might’ve been stuck for a few centuries but I always try to keep my word.” He winks to her, a smile blossoming along his face.
Already she’s explaining that she’d usually keep them in the infirmary, but when she finishes he huffs a quiet laugh of understanding. “Well, I could walk you home if you wanted? Fend off anyone that tries to drag you back?” A crooked smile is shot her way, letting her take the lead to wherever her home is. As for how he’s coping? He pulls his shoulders back a fraction, the smile remaining as he watches the path ahead. “Good. Only fell over a couple of times trying to get used to the balance.” He chuckles lightly. “Luckily I’m right handed so it’s easier to adjust to.”
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"I do like flowers - how astute of you to remember. And you got an evening primrose," she murmurs, half to herself as if his choice of blooms has been entirely random and not something perfectly crafted on purpose with her profession in mind. "Well isn't that noble of you?" Grinning, Isla nods confirmation that he might walk her home - she assumes he isn't intending to linger around the Temple or the infirmary, given that he was only here (presumably) to find her.
"That's a relief. Your arm is in cold storage, so if and when you know what you would like to do with it, please just let me know." she tells him, before something he said before snags on her again. "A few centuries," she repeats, glancing across at him. "How are you adjusting, since we saw each other last? Did you find anything that looks familiar?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“Heard it had medicinal properties.” He replies as they walk, keeping his gaze forward. As for it being noble of him, he hasn’t heard that in regards to him in a long time and he can’t help the soft chuckle that leaves him, the shrug of his shoulder. His head tilts back toward her as she mentions his arm is in cold storage, nodding idly as he considers it. “I haven’t decided yet. Bouncing around a few different ideas though.” He assures her with another playful smile that spreads along his face.
How is he adjusting? Well, he takes a sharp inhale of breath as he considers it — old habits and all — before the smile he offers her is a bit more genuine. “Everything is different. But I found an old friend. Aamu, if you know of him. Other than that? Nothing.” It had all changed, continued to change. Though what had he been expecting? “Heard another war is looming. I’m far less prepared this time than last time. So I guess I should figure out what to do with this arm, huh?” His gaze returns to the path, a chipper tone to his voice that seems to quietly suggest he’s hiding much of his brooding with the mask of it, if she knew how to look for it.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"It does. Perhaps I'll take that particular flower and bring it back to the infirmary so I can use it for medicines," she suggests, smiling over her shoulder at him and tilting her head. "Oh? Do tell. Are you going to end up with a tentacle instead of an arm? A hammer?" she wonders, Isla grinning to herself and dropping back to fall into step with him as they begin to walk properly through the streets.
She's glad to hear that he's found someone, and her eyebrows raise as Aamu's name falls from his lips. "I didn't realise you knew each other. That is a small world. I've met Aamu a few times, he's a very gentle man. Were you in the last war together...?" Honestly, she can't even imagine Aamu fighting. Cal, though? That she can envisage pretty well; there's something about his charm and charisma that might easily hide the steel beneath.
Almost as if she can sense it, Isla reaches out to link her arm with his good one, giving him a gentle nudge. "War isn't an absolute," she points out. "Maybe just enjoy being alive again for a bit first?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“You should. Should also let me know how it goes.” An amused fanged smile is sent her way until she’s asking about tentacles and a surprised bark of laughter leaves him at the thought. “Shit, I didn’t even think of a tentacle. Now I have too many options.” There’s a lightness to his tone, to the smile he shoots her way as they walk through the dark streets.
Her comment of Aamu has him nodding again, a bit of seriousness overtaking him as he hums. “We did, yeah. Aamu helped me Ascend and get used to all the changes. I was a soldier before I ascended, though, so I knew some of the basics. Aamu still managed to squirrel himself into being my mentor.” A crooked smile of nostalgia washes over him. “He tried to find me when I disappeared in King’s End, but we both must’ve shut down shortly after.” Aamu was likely still his best friend, and the thought of the both of them shutting down and reviving now was at least something that made it feel worth it.
His head turns to her immediately as she links her arm with his only one, his bright blue gaze dancing between their interlinked arms and her face, before returning to the path ahead. “Oh I have always enjoyed being alive. Just a bit tough to get used to nothing being the same. Suppose that’s life, though, hm? Shouldn’t truly be surprised. I’m three hundred and forty-one fucking years old, after all.” A hum of laughter finds its way through him, before his head drops to the side and he looks over at her. “I look pretty good for it though.” A fanged grin is shot her way again.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of keeping you in the dark, given how you're currently my supplier of evening primrose oil," she informs him, adjusting the flowers in the crook of her one arm as she links her other with Varus. Cocking her head towards him as he speaks of his past with Aamu, it sounds like something out of another life; and really, after three centuries and then some, it is out of another life. "I can see it," she admits with a grin. "Were you the loose cannon to his calm mentor?"
Unaware of all that roils through his mind, Isla leads them down a small side street to a little house tucked between two others. There are no lights on within it, but the door has been painted a friendly green colour, and Isla releases Varus so she can find her keys. "That is life," she agrees with a smile. "I might not be over three hundred, but everything changed for me when I got here too. I'm an Outlander, so I know a little bit about nothing being the same."
Opening her door, she raises an eyebrow at the man on her doorstep, a smirk playing across her lips. "Are you flirting with me, Cal?" she wonders. "Or just fishing for compliments? Either way, would you like to come in?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
A low hum of a laugh leaves him at the comment of being her supplier. He supposes that’s a good enough reason to be kept around and wouldn’t dare to complain about it. But the conversation shifts to the power the two of them had together, Aamu and Varus, and a crooked smirk forms on his face as he regards her, giving her arm a light squeeze. “My, Isla, you read me so well.” He chuckles. “I wouldn’t say such a loose cannon, but definitely more… Intense than Aamu. The brawn, I guess.” His one shoulder rises and falls in a shrug.
She mentions she’s an outlander, though, and it certainly does intrigue him a fraction. “I suppose that is similar.” He comments a bit offhandedly, before they’re pausing by a green door, and he peers at it appreciatively, something homey compared to what he was used to. He doesn’t push her on the Outlander comment, regardless of how curious he is of it, though.
She opens the door and he flashes her an innocent look that shifts to a playful, fanged smirk. “Would you hit me with my own arm again if I said it was a bit of both?” He jests, stepping into the home after her, looking around it in no small part of appreciation and edge of comfort. “Your home is nice, Isla.” He compliments, continuing his look around.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
"It's a doctor thing," Isla says, laughing and stepping inside. There are no need for lanterns, but she goes to light some anyway, careful of the flames as she shuts them inside their little glass prisons. It's an old habit, and one that Isla doesn't plan on breaking. Fire might be dangerous for them, and they might be able to see in the dark, but there's just something so human about the light that she's keen not to forget.
With a girlish snort, she moves to a small table to set down the flowers, raising a hand for him to sit wherever he likes. Isla's home is small - a kitchen that's barely used, some comfortable, mismatched furniture, and piles of books without shelves. "I was dead up until last Deepfrost, too, if that's any consolation," she remarks, leaning down to get a vase out from one of the kitchen cupboards. "Like actually dead. Not switched off. Aamu led us all back from it."
Starting to arrange the bouquet, Isla can only scoff at his remarks. "You're lucky that I don't have your arm around to beat you with," she says. "But since it's a bit of both, yes, you do look good for three hundred and forty-one years old." And as for her home? Her smile softens. "Thank you. I don't spend nearly enough time here."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
She gestures for him to take a seat and so he does, along a very comfortable looking couch that doesn’t seem to match the rest of it. It’s charming, though, and he watches her idly as she moves over toward the table to put the flowers into a vase. “Dead dead?” He half asks, despite it being rhetorical, and a quiet whistle leaves his lips as he props his head up on his only arm, peering over at her. “How does it feel to be alive again?” He asks her with a crooked smile. Anything she says would be interesting to him, given the fact that at least he hadn’t died. His return from stasis was far different from being dragged from Mort’s Realm or wherever the Ascended souls were kept.
Still, she arranges the bouquet and he flashes a bright fanged grin her way as she gives into him, a chuckle leaving him that echoes against the walls. “Aren't I a lucky man for that.” He comments, sucking in a deep breath that he doesn’t need, exhaling it in a long slow sigh. “Thank you.” He chimes with the compliment, snorting before settling down to scan the home again.
“So what is it that you usually do when you are here?” He asks, finding a blanket and runs his fingers along the fabric, trying to pretend he can feel the softness of it. “Read? Draw? Have company?” The latter half is said as his gaze lifts back up to her, raising a dark brow.
and i find sorrow in idle minds and solace in being heard
04-27-2021, 07:39 PM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2021, 07:39 PM by Isla.)
Isla
The couch isn't the only thing that's charming, and Isla steals a glance across at the one-armed man as she finishes up arranging the bouquet. He looks both out of place and not, sitting in such an obviously domestic setting. Perhaps it's just the doctor, but she can only really imagine him in the infirmary or outside - probably because that's the only place she's seen him so far. "Dead dead," she confirms. "And being alive again is wonderful."
A soft smile has crept across her face as she speaks, stepping back from the flowers to admire them for a second before coming back to herself. "I didn't want to go, the first time. It was an accident one LongNight," she explains, though honestly, she doesn't particularly want to go into it right now.
And so "You're welcome," she says as she moves to sink down into a comfortable looking armchair, kicking off her shoes to tuck her legs beneath her. "Usually I read," she confirms. "Not much else to do when you don't need sleep, right? And only recently have I found myself with company, I'll have you know. What about you...? Have you found a place to stay in the Grounds since you got back here?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
