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!
It is that strange in-between hour where the sky is painted with blushes of pink and bruised purple. It might be dusk or dawn, and though there are stars winking above, that offers no indication as to whether the moon is rising or falling. The air is temperate; so close to body temperature so as to be nearly indistinguishable from one's skin. Bird whisper lullabies to one another as wild horses graze in the distance, near where the field bleeds away into forest.
In the centre on a plaid blanket, sits Remi. Wearing a faded chambray shirt open at the collar and stained with oil and charcoal, he paws absently at a basket filled with bread and wine. It's cheap bread and even cheaper wine, but there's something about it that suits him as he presently is. Younger looking than in reality and having lost a good deal of his bulk, he's much closer to the man he was in Northaven once. Free of scars from life's interventions, his hair is curlier and his eyes are clearer than Maeve will have ever seen him.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
07-01-2021, 02:43 AM (This post was last modified: 07-01-2021, 03:25 AM by Maeve.)
Maeve
Sleep hasn't been an easy thing for her to find recently for many different reasons. Between reopening the Halenani and sorting through her own feelings with Locke it's been difficult. However, the promise of being swept away into a dream does something to ease her mind. The Madame slips into sleep easily, eager for a distraction and good company, knowing that at most she will have a good night of rest thanks to the Lullaby.
Her eyes flutter open, finding herself brought into a lush meadow that cradles her where she lays, the sky a mix between dusk and dawn above her. Maeve sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes free of sleep as she looks around, finally lighting upon Remi. Her smile is slow and sweet, a breath escaping her as she pushes up from her resting place, moving slowly through the grass as fireflies scatter around her.
For a moment she's lost in the their surroundings, spinning to take it all in, delight spreading through her chest. She always forgets just how wonderful these places can be. How beautiful. It's a special kind of gift the Lullaby possesses and the Madame thinks she wouldn't mind going if it was to the sight of this. Finally she approaches, joining him on the blanket, the skirt of her dress gathering around her legs. It's odd seeing him like this. Thinner, younger, more carefree. Maeve doesn't think she's ever seen him without a cloud of worry over his head for some reason or another.
"Remi... I swear you always outdo yourself whenever you weave dreams for me." She hums, settling beside him and peeking into the basket, eyeing the bread and wine that fills it.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
Nothing goes unnoticed in a dream. Not when the alchemist's mind is the architect of every gust of wind, and every shade of green on every blade of grass. Even so, as Maeve strolls across the grasses she does so without eyes watching her. It's only as she reaches that blanket that Remi turns and offers her a slightly bashful smile. "Dreams...are one of the only places I can create anymore." His tone is one of admission, even as he nods for her to sit, watching how her dress gathers about her legs like petals of a closing flower. "So much of what I do now is the opposite of creation, but this..." He looks to the sky, where predictably perhaps a shooting star races across its lush surface, disappearing somewhere behind a mountain. "This is all I ever aspired to be." Not an architect of dreams, no. But just a creator of beautiful things.
"This," He says with a crooked smile, "—is the white and bread Ronin and I ate on...I suppose the first time we hung out as friends. Shortly after he was stabbed in an alley, but I can make sure that does not happen here." This is added quickly and with a laugh that speaks volumes of just how deep and long-standing his love for the Star is. "It's fairly awful I'm afraid, but feel free to have it taste however you like." So saying, he tears off a chunk for Maeve rather than cuts it, and presumably expects her to drink straight from the bottle. It's what he and Ronin had done, after all.
"You had mentioned a weapon...are you having problems at the Halenani?"
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
A part of her aches for him. There is something heartbreaking about the idea that he's been torn away from all he really wants. Caido has a habit of doing that, it seems. Very few find a life of peace here. Especially not now. Not with a coming war that will do little to spare any of them.
Her eyes follow the star, watching it flash across the sky brilliantly, burning a path so bright she fears she might have to look away. The moment never comes and it soon disappears behind a mountain, leaving the sky just as bright as it was before, stars twinkling just for them. "It suits you, I think." If his life didn't demand other things of him, Maeve imagines he'd hide away in a little shop, tinkering away until it was time to return he to Ronin and Mateo. It's a lovely thought. One that has her wondering about her own slice of paradise and what that might look like.
A laugh bubbles up in her throat, one of the first ones in days, "I would certainly hope so." Maeve huffs, taking the crusty bread from him, noting how it was still warm despite the fact that it should have already been cold. "Does alcohol have the same effect here? Sorry if that's a silly question, but I truly am curious." She's trying not to drink as much, having done more in the past week than she has in months. It's not a habit she wants to keep.
Maeve tears off a piece of bread, popping the bite into her mouth as she shakes her head, chewing slowly. The bread, while apparently cheap, is still very good. It's rather hard to ruin bread. She chews, swallowing before she speaks, "No, nothing like that. I just-" Maeve pauses, sucking in a breath, lips pursing as she forces herself to push through. "I just think it would be best. I can't be naïve enough to think there won't be a chance I have to defend myself. I'd rather be prepared."
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
"I like to think so." He agrees crookedly and were he privy to her thoughts just now, he'd tell her that is precisely the sort of life he would want.
"It...can.." He answers with about as much honesty as he can muster, given that he's never tried it before. "I control everything here. I could make you drunk now with just a thought. Or at least, I could fool your mind into thinking it was drunk." He could do anything else to her as well. Bear her insecurities, drown her in fear, let her plummet from cliffs of her own orgasms. "But once you remember that it is not real, it...well. It changes it." Somewhat sadly said, the alchemist just shrugs. He'd had experience enough when it came to what a dream world could and couldn't provide.
Taking a piece of bread as well and forming it into a ball before he eats it, Remi tilts his head curiously to the side as he listens. 'Okay..' He says slowly, wondering if there is more to this than that, or if this is simply the Madame being prepared. "Is there...a type of attacker you think yourself likely to come upon...? Or a particular weapon you are good with?" The questions are meant to be leading enough that she might elaborate if she wants, but sufficient to give him the information he needs, if she doesn't.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
It's a good enough answer for her and she's reassured that unless she wishes it to, there will be no ill effects from the wine itself, leading her to uncorking the bottle with a pop. "I don't wish to be. Just being here is enough of a distraction." And it is. It's hard to think about all you're dealing with when you're whisked away into a world where nothing feels as if it could be wrong. As long as Remi willed them to have peace, they would.
The sadness that covers his words isn't unfamiliar. They'd had a similar conversation before. When he first brought her into a dream. It seems so long ago now. So much has changed and yet they're still here. A different dream, a different time, but they're still Remi and Maeve. "It does, but I can appreciate this for what it is." Maeve murmurs, savoring the taste of cheap wine and crusty bread, both of them covering her tongue in a way that should be unpleasant but somehow managed to be the opposite. Instead it tastes like budding romance, happiness, and love.
"Well, I've been training with a bow." Maeve informs him rather proudly, a small smile curling on her lips, feeling rather pleased that she can say as much. The other question goes unanswered. They both know given her side it would be the Ascended. Whether she wants it to be or not. They belong to the Old Gods. Their side has been chosen. "I've worked with daggers before, but I wanted something that gave me some distance. I don't believe I'm the most well suited for hand to hand combat." Surely the Lullaby can agree with her on that. While the Madame has learned a few things about sparring and the like, she's not under the impression that she's all that good at it.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
'Then you can just enjoy the taste.' He replies with a warm nod, and it's only out of the love that grew from that first initial meeting that Remi doesn't make the wine taste a good deal better for the Madame.
Nodding at the mention of a bow, Remi's memory unhelpfully fills in intimate details of Maeve's body as she mentions being ill-suited for hand-to-hand combat. But then, one needn't have seen Maeve's naked in order to know that her slender build was not geared towards strength. "A bow. That is easily enough done." Though normally his mind would be far away already, thinking and scheming and planning, in this place, that was entirely unnecessary.
'So to begin...' A recurve and a longbow appear in the air before Maeve. Both are made out of basic and lifeless wood. For now. "Which do you prefer?" And then, perhaps to speed up the process, he adds: "Show me what you want."
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Perfect." Maeve murmurs in response, offering him a warm smile as she settles more comfortably on the blanket. The taste doesn't bother her. Likely because of the fond memories attached to the wine itself. If anything that makes it a good deal sweeter as she sips on it between bites of bread.
While the intimate knowledge of her body wasn't necessary to know such things, it likely helped in some regard. If only because he knows just where her strength lies. Speed, agility, and endurance all reign supreme in comparison to her strength. Her attention shifts to the two weapons that appear before her, head cocking to the side in consideration, bottom lip catching between her teeth as she thinks. "I've shot with both. I admittedly had better luck with the longbow, but that was due to the fact that the first weapon I traded for wasn't suited for me."
She focuses on the recurve bow, knowing from her talk with Noah that the speed, smoothness, and drawback were all things it offered above the longbow. "This one." Maeve finally decides, motioning to the recurve and sending it slowly rotating before them. It shifts and shimmers, Ash wood making up the weapon, a stain darkening and drawing out the natural features of the material. A dark leather wrap appears in the center, intricate carvings and scroll work coming out from, feathering out to the curved ends. "What do you think?" Maeve asks as it finally comes to a halt before them both.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
The longbow disappears that the recurve might hold their focus. Nodding, he watches as Maeve's mind is able to exert its control over the dream, adjusting the bow to her liking. Though Remi's mind did not ignore the aesthetics of her choices, his first priority was in the efficiency and composition of the bow. Narrowing his eyes, the bow warps and adjusts, pulling apart that he might mentally put it back together himself. He watches the veins of wood as they stretch and curve, imagines tanning the leather and then binding it together. When all is back to how it started, Remi rises, reaching down a hand for Maeve to indicate that she should do the same.
"Can you hold it, as you would if shooting?" When Maeve does, she'll find that the wrapped leather in the centre is suddenly soft and spongey. As she grips it, it will mould perfectly around her fingers that Remi might be able to ensure that the balance perfectly suits her hand.
'And for your arrows...would you prefer them to be...generic? Or unique?" Generic would allow for anonymity when it came to who or what Maeve shoots. Though whether that is what the madame wanted, he had no idea.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
It's a fascinating process to watch. The way the bow warps and stretches with Remi's influence. She's enraptured, bread and wine forgotten in favor of watching his mind work on the bow. It isn't until he stands, hand extending down to her that she snaps out of it, looking up at him instead as her hand slips into his. The contact is brief, but it'll surely be enough to sense the simmering hurt that lingers so close to the surface, the unease that lingers in her belly, and nervous sort of excitement that is a touch brighter than the rest. All of these emotions tangled up in one another, almost muddled in color with the way they mix, fighting for dominance over her current state.
Maeve draws away from him in favor of focusing on the bow, taking it into her right hand, "I'm right handed, but left eye dominant. Noah told me this isn't an issue, but is unique and should be considered for any bow I have crafted." She provides this information easily, assuming he'll know what he needs to do with it to make her a suitable weapon. The leather molds to her hand, giving away with the pressure as she brings up the bow, taking up her proper position and drawing the string back to test it.
A hum of consideration pushes past her lips, lips pursing as she lowers the weapon once more, "Unique." She finally answers, knowing that should she truly wish, she could always get different arrows later. However this was a custom weapon and the opprotunity to have something else made just for her was too good to pass up.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
The threads of emotions that curl from her fingertips has the alchemist sipping in a breath that here, in this dreamworld, is entirely unnecessary. Frowning to himself as his tongue presses itself between his teeth, Remi is forced to remind himself not to interfere. Such has been a major critique in his life as of late. Powerful and strong as he is, it's easy for him to slip into places and situations that normally wouldn't bear him out.
"I think I have encountered that with an archer before, but I will check with Ronin and his dragoons to make sure." Remi replies with a dip of his head. It has to do with angles and the slight tilt of the bow that would normally be advised against.
"Unique it is. Do you have any ideas for your fletching? Particular feathers or colours? "
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
She's thankful that he doesn't press. Though it would likely do her some good to speak about it with someone else. Remi has more than enough on his plate without her potentially adding anything. Not that knowing of her current state would be a problem the Alchemist has to solve, but the emotional weight of it isn't his to bear.
Maeve smiles softly, nodding in response, "Apparently it makes me special." She jokes lightly, wrapping her arms around her middle, eyes sparking playfully as she looks over at Remi. As for the fletching? It isn't something she's given much thought. "I trust your judgement. I imagine you're familiar enough with me now to make something fitting." The Madame's nose wrinkles, resisting the urge to tease him about the fact that he has seen her naked and knows how to make her orgasm, something that surely makes him better suited than most when it comes to knowing her.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
Remi raises a slight brow at that as the inclination to argue bubbles brightly on his tongue. What he thinks he knows of and about Maeve is likely a stone's throw from the truth of who she is, and yet leaving it up to him feels poorly suggested. But then, it isn't as though the Madame is going to be defined by the colours or patterns on her fletching, so perhaps the alchemist is merely overthinking things.
'I should be able to have everything done in a few days. A week at most. Unless you need it sooner?' Again the question of are you okay? lingers in his tone and the slight tightness around his eyes. With how unstable Sunjata has become—in his opinion at least—where once the alchemist would have thought no harm could befall Maeve in Torchline, now Remi wasn't so sure at all.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Noticing the arch of his brow Maeve goes on to add, "If you need something to go off of... I have a penchant for black and lanvender. I also rather like ravens." She shrugs her slender shoulders, tearing off another piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. There are plenty of things Remi doesn't know about her, this much is true. Whether or not it would make his design choices harder not to know the ins and outs of her life isn't something she can speak to, but surely it's not as complicated as he seems to think.
She's been doing well not to crack and to keep her light demeanor firmly in place, but it's the question in his voice and the look in his seaglass gaze that makes her falter. Are you okay? Her eyes drop from his face, shoulders slumping as she swallows thickly, seeming to wilt before him. A flower left untended and neglected for too long. "Sooner might be better, Remi... I- I'm worried about how things are going to go in the coming days." Part of her hesitates to mention Safrin, knowing that he wasn't overly fond of the goddess (understatement of the century), but it was pertinent information.
"Sunjata might be asked to step down as governor by Safrin. She has... Plans and concerns. I'm not sure what that will mean for me or any of us really." Depending on how the Flood took it there could be backlash. The people could riot. Things could fall apart in a matter of moments.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
