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!
Mood lighting: a soft blue cloth in front of a flickering lantern, setting the room with a cool glow. The curtains were closed, of course, and the Thought Player let out a gentle, contemplative tune in piano. Something Bastien had heard in Caido, actually, not Venice. The atmosphere was calm and dreamy, ready for his student.
And for him to be naked. Bastien always wanted the right stage for that.
For the moment, he was dressed in a robe. Floor length with long sleeves and intricate patterns crossing over the thick fabric, it was almost chaste - except for the large 'V' at his neck, which exposed a heavy amount of chest and went down to his navel. In this extravagant look, he swanned about, getting a drawing board ready and sharpening charcoal. He had no idea how skilled or not Isla was, but he was going to make sure she felt like an artist.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
At the moment, Isla doesn't feel like an artist. She's just left the infirmary and has forgotten to take off her doctor's white coat as she arrives at the Artist's Sanctuary. Noticing just as she steps through the doors, the medic sighs under her breath and shrugs out of it, folding it over her arm in time to walk into... well. Something she absolutely isn't expecting, to be certain, but it takes a lot to ruffle her feathers. So it's with a polite smile that she wanders into the room that Bastien has prepared, raising her eyebrows to see her fellow Ascended in his very flashy looking robe.
"Good evening," she murmurs, more to announce her presence than anything else. It's true that she doesn't need the light to see by, but at the same time, everything about this arrangement feels intentional. "Is it just the two of us tonight?"
04-26-2021, 07:55 PM (This post was last modified: 04-26-2021, 07:56 PM by Bastien.)
BASTIEN
Isla arrived in her white coat, which Bastien actually found quite fetching; it was unique, at the least. She seemed to want to have it off though, so he gestured to hooks on the wall where it could be hung, next to garments of all kinds of shapes, sizes and colours. Her coat would look drab between the sparkling slips and dyed scarves, but Bastien had a lot of experience taking dull things and making them come alive.
"Well. You, I and the spirit of boheme. Come, sit. I have prepared you some tools to create with. You will perhaps find them not so different from the scalpel or bandage you use in your normal work." Bastien said serenely, going to sit on the edge of the stage. Very much switched on for pretentious speeches and stares into the middle distance. For now the robe stayed on.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
04-30-2021, 09:27 PM (This post was last modified: 04-30-2021, 09:27 PM by Isla.)
Offering a silent smile of thanks, Isla moves to hang up her coat amongst the plethora of colours and fabrics on the hooks. It might look a little drab, but she isn’t particularly keen for Bastien to make it come alive either. “What is the spirit of boheme?” she wonders, tilting her head and sweeping across to join him. He perches on the edge of the stage and she takes her place among the supplies he’s gathered for her.
Isla selects the basics at first, settling herself before the drawing board and selecting a plain lead pencil to make her beginning sketches. ”Should I simply… start?” she wonders, flashing him a brief smile over the canvas. ”Is there any way I should be going about things? I don’t want you to be unhappy with the result.” She can’t help but chuckle to herself.
"Oh, what is boheme?" Bastien repeated with a mock-offense, pressing a hand to his chest and leaning back as if he'd been struck. Swiftly coming back up though, he was ready to give all the explanation Isla could ever need: "Why, Boheme is...the artist's soul! The spirit! The very lifeforce that runs through us all and screams to be expressed! The, the--!" Shooting his hands out from his chest, palms towards Isla and fingers spread, he imitated an explosion. "It's everything. The freedom to be one and all, the joy to create and the intelligence required to see the falsehoods of society."
Hopping off the stage and walking to the lounge he was to pose on, Bastien continued. "Free love; the unique pleasures of touching the taboo, wine, beer! Gods, there are so many things that are all boheme, yet none come close to a true definition. You would have to spend time in this place to understand, and even then -- this is nothing compared to the soul of Venice."
Had to try really hard not to just quote the RENT song
Isla asked if she should start, and nodding (he had run out of things to compare boheme to for a second) Bastien placed a foot on the arm of the couch and dramatically flung his shoulders back, the robe falling to the floor with a satisfying fwump, leaving him entirely nude and of course, glorious, before her.
"The best to begin is to observe-" He instructed, gesturing with one hand along the length of his leg and then posing simply with one foot up and the other down, his hands artfully posed by his side. "-and draw. When I can see how you do, I can give more detailed instruction. Do not worry about offending me - I have an appreciation for all art...especially that of myself." He laughed, perhaps a little self awareness creeping in, but then focused on keeping himself still.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
Isla feels as though she is some uninitiated pleb compared to the artiste before her; she sits through his explanations of boheme, one hand in her lap and the other still holding the pencil poised over the paper, lips slightly parted either in awe or confusion (it's awe, Bastien, honest). "Oh," she says helpfully, eyes following the imaginary explosion, and it almost leaves her lips - how does that work for Ascended, since we feel no physical pleasure? - but she decides against it.
Instead she watches the man before her sweep from the stage to the lounge, strip bare, and pose. Isla wants to smile; not at all because Bastien has anything about him that's amusing, far from it - she's merely caught up in his dramatics. "I see," she says. (She doesn't). "Alright, well - let's see how I do." And so, putting pencil to paper, she begins.
And, since there's nothing else to do while she sketches, "Who is Venice? What are they like?" He'd mentioned a soul, so Venice had to be a person, right?
Isla absolutely was a pleb, but it was okay; Bastien was there to show her the way of the artiste.
He hoped she'd smile when she cast her eyes upon his glorious nude form; it wasn't something everyone got to see (it was if they asked) and it was truly an example of what man was meant to be. Bastien only wished he could pose for himself. Maybe something to ask of the Voice when he next went, though he'd have to come up for a better idea of an upgrade than ' I want to see myself naked'.
The sound of pencil scratching on paper filled the air and Isla asked her question; Bastien smiled and shook his head. "Venice is the city I lived in before I was...dropped off here. It was the paradise I'd dreamed of in a lot of ways; artistic, so many people from so many places, wonderful scenes...yet there were problems too. Mass inequality, the Doge taking home all he fancied while people starved in the streets...the usual prejudices." He was sure Isla would understand that, even without knowing of Earth's problems; they were facing a new kind of it here in Caido together.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
"Oh, Venice is a city? That makes much more sense," Isla says, glancing up from her paper every now and then to smile across at him. She had taken particular focus on the way his leg curved and joined against his hip, and hoped Bastien would forgive her for not capturing his whole form in one sheet.
"Mm, it was the same where I used to live as well," she admits. "Granted, in Caido at least there is much more involvement from deities and the like, don't you think?"
A few more moments of sketching before Isla picks up her drawing board and pencil, stepping closer to the artiste where he poses. "You don't mind if I look a bit closer, do you? I have an upgrade, but it only works within about three feet."
"Yes. The City on the water...canals instead of roads, for much of it. Gondolas drifting along beautiful waters.." He sighed dreamily, thinking of the late night rides; of course, his nostalgic recollection didn't mention the often filthy patches of water where people dumped their chamberpots or where the blood from slaughterhouses ran down the cobbles...with his artist's eye, such details could be taken away.
Stretching his arms up for a moment (maybe taking this action slowly just so that Isla could see the various impeccable examples of muscles taking perfect form there), he laughed and shook his head. "There is no comparison; in my world we had no Gods. There were ones people insisted they believed in, but they were never seen. Not like the ones here." Bastien really wasn't sure what he preferred.
She wanted to look closer, did she? Bastien grinned and held out his arms, facing her entirely. "Get as close as you like to study every detail. Ah...what is this upgrade?"
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
"Gondola?" Isla repeats. "Is that a sort of animal?" She can't help getting it wrong - Bastien describes it so romantically that the practicalities of it actually being a boat are missed on her. Still, given that he has only mentioned the dreamlike elements of the city, that's exactly what Isla sees in her mind's eye; trickling canals, great, sweeping creatures (gondolas) drifting through them, lamplights and cobblestones and bright fixtures.
No gods at all sounds quite similar to Northaven but also not - there had been rumour of some "goddess" beyond the Wall, but she'd not been there long enough to make anything of it. "I can't help but think it was just as chaotic. People can create problems themselves, with or without gods," she murmurs, smiling to herself as he stretches and flexes, as well as turning for her so she might look more closely.
Almost kneeling now, so she can gaze properly at the musculature of his legs, she flashes a fanged grin up at Bastien. "It lets me see the world in heatmaps, and I can see through things. So right now I can see your bones."
Bastien couldn't help but laugh at the idea of the Gondola being an animal; great sea serpents swimming along the canals of Venice. "No. Wonderfully crafted boats, elegant and long with designs along the side." He'd painted a few himself, when Gondoliers with particularly good taste had asked him to. "It could be quite romantic on an evening with a date...if you were on the good side of town."
As much as he loved to live in the rough and poor areas of any place, did not shy away from poverty or hardship...Bastien also had enough street smarts to avoid getting mugged.
"True, though it's easier to end affairs that begin among humans. Once the Gods become involved...well, who is going to convince them different?" When he was fresh to Caido and rather more optimistic, he might have tried himself, gone to the Voice and the Old Gods and argued with them for understanding. Now he figured it'd end in his untimely demise.
He certainly wasn't expecting to hear she was looking at his bones (he thought she was looking at his boner) . "...I see. That is...beneficial for your drawing, I suppose, as a study of anatomy?" Bastien hoped she wasn't trying to steal his bones.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
"Oh, I see. Well, if they are elegant as you say, and designed so artfully, I have no doubt that some might mistake them for animals," Isla says with a warm smile, eagerly packing away the new vocabulary. She's a sucker for learning anything new, demonstrated by the way she's currently trying to sketch out the muscles and bone in Bastien's leg. "Ah, good and bad sides of town? That's another thing that never seems to change, isn't it? No matter where you go, there are always streets one shouldn't walk down."
Nibbling at her lower lip and dropping her gaze to concentrate, she can't help but agree with Bastien's appraisal of things, difficult as it might be to accept. "Sometimes I feel as though they are so wrapped up standing on opposite sides of things, humanity ends up trapped in the middle," she remarks.
Brightening a bit as the conversation moves onto seeing bones, Isla nods again and smiles up at him. "It is fascinating," she admits. "And if it makes you feel any better, you have a very impressive skeleton under here."
"Mmm. Though...in Venice those streets were dangerous because of robbers. Here it seems more likely one might come across an angry spirit or monster." It had taken quite the adjustment when he'd first arrived in Caido for Bastien to accept the existence of such accessible Gods and real monsters; it was hard to express to those from more magical worlds just how fantastical it all was - sometimes it still hit him, even as he dealt within the politics and world here.
Her words on humanity were poignant; all he could do was nod, Bastien thinking he might note them down in a journal later. The best phrases always came from the most unexpected sources.
"Well, thank you. I have tried to cultivate such a thing." Alright, not really, but he had always taken a lot of pride in his body and taking care of it. Pleased that he was being complimented, even in an odd way, Bastien flexed his muscles and made an effort to be even more still, a statue of Adonis in the midst of the studio.
It was like this, naked and staring straight ahead at the wall, that he mentioned: "I did want to speak to you of something more important. Do you know that Wessex intends to soon step down as our leader?"
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
"I suppose here the spirits and monsters are still robbers of a sort. They steal more than what's in your pockets, though," Isla remarks with a gentle smile, glancing fleetingly up at Bastien before she returns her attention to her sketching. "It is certainly paying off. You see?" Grinning, Isla turns her drawing board to show him. Her artistry is frank and practical and detailed, carefully outlining Bastien's leg and the muscles, ligaments and bones beneath. "Here is your tibia and your fibula, leading up into the patella."
AKA - it's your shin and your knee, Bastien.
Turning the sketch back, Isla frowns softly and nibbles at the inside of her lip as the subject of leadership is broached, and she nods. "Yes, I did hear as much. I do wonder what will become of the Grounds," she admits. "And I wonder even more what Wessex plans to do if she is not leader." The demigoddess is the strongest among them, or one of at least.
