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!
Isla doesn't often find herself at the marketplaces that are scattered around the Sanctuary - many of her supplies are delivered to the Infirmary directly, and others are crafted by the medic herself. But she isn't just a medic any more - she is Overseer to the Grounds, and something something it's good to show her face and get familiar with everyone.
It's lucky that the majority of the Grounds operates a night market now, so it's under the pale streams of the moonlight that Isla makes her rounds, getting herself some sprigs of fresh herbs, some pre-cut bandages and a few other bits and pieces. The place is fairly bustling, given the number of Ascended in their midst these days, and the Remedy can't help but smile to see it.
These moments, she thinks, will be few and far between in this lead up to the war.
Alright, so, Varus has had a good stint of not fucking up a lot of things lately. Most notably himself. However, today is a different story. It’s a different story because he’s managed to do something stupid, and his sensors are ringing off the charts. He’s a bit dazed, a bit jumbled, and he can feel the slow drop of fluid coming from his temple when he picks himself back up off the ground.
Which leads him to wandering back toward the Sanctuary, to head for the temple because he knows that’s where Isla is, despite him getting turned around a couple of times. When he does finally make it, he finds out quickly that she isn’t there, and with a slightly irritated huff, the dripping man makes it back out to the sanctuary, starting to head home before he sees the shock of blonde along the crowd, a ruler among her people.
He bee lines for her, his metal arm slipping around her shoulder. “Isla, Isla, Isla,” he pauses as he words his next sentence. “I kinda fucked up and if you have the time I’d very much appreciate a little bit of patching up.” There’s a cheeky smile that crosses his face as he looks back at her, the shine of fluid from his temple glimmering with the light.
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
The arm snakes around her shoulder just as she's finished at the last stall, tugging Isla slightly off balance and into a very familiar figure indeed. "Cal, Cal, Cal," she echoes, leaning against him and offering him a bright smile which (naturally) fades somewhat as she takes in the more obvious signs of injury about him. "You did, huh?" she murmurs, letting her free arm slip around his waist. "Lucky for you, I'm all done here, and I do have the time."
Gently, she moves to steer him back towards home, carefully noting the fluid that's trickling from his temple and offering him a curious sort of frown. "You want to tell me what happened?" she asks, and whilst for all intents and purposes, Isla sounds little more than mildly interested, the cogs are already ticking away in her brain.
She leans against him and his arm grows a bit tighter around her, tucking her in under his arm as she slips her arm around his waist. He huffs a sigh of relief as she says she does have the time, and he flashes her his biggest goofiest grin. “Gods I’m so lucky.” It comes out as a sound closer to a whisper than actually uttering it, despite the fact he thinks he’s absolutely just said it loud enough for the merchants around them to hear.
She moves to steer him away though, back toward the warmth and comfort of home. “Well, you see, I was working on fixing up a few things in my old house – which I still have to show you but I wanted it to look… Better than a ruin, and uh, forgot the floor upstairs was fucked and I slipped through.” He flashes her a bright grin with that, at odds with the hint of frustration that lingers within. “I’m usually much better when it comes to decrepit places, but I guess we all have to have our dumb moments now and then, huh?”
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
"Mm, I feel that way too," Isla says sunnily, matching his tone (and of course being unaware that he had originally planned on exclaiming it to the entire square). She takes the lead in keeping them steady on the way home, glancing up at Varus and furrowing her brow to hear his tale. "You and that house don't get along very well, do you?" she says; the only time she's known him to be injured is when digging around in it.
"Looks like you gave yourself quite the bump on the head," she continues, turning down their street and promptly heading up towards the familiar little house with the greeen door. "Come on. We'll sit down, I'll make some tea and give you a proper look over. You're right, though - we do all have our dumb moments. As long as we learn from them there's no harm done right?"
07-25-2021, 06:05 AM (This post was last modified: 07-25-2021, 06:06 AM by Varus.)
VARUS
“Would you believe me if I told you it was the exact same thing when I was a teenager?” He says, sounding as if he’s shocked to hear it himself. “Good to know that not even a few centuries can change my shitty luck in that place.” There’s a huff that leaves him, playful of course, evident with the smile that remains crossed along his face. He leans on Isla, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders to ground himself.
The little house comes into view with the green door and Varus finds himself picking up his pace just a fraction. “I made a mental note to fix the floor.” He says as if it’s learning from his mistakes, his freehand rising to point to his head as if he’s had a smart idea, but the Ascended simply points right at the glimmering, fluid shined wound. The door is before them quickly, though, and he fumbles to open it with the freehand, before he’s finally managed to open it (of course a few little ‘no I’ve got it’ uttered to Isla in case she tries to help), and when they’re inside he promptly plops down on the couch that she’d fixed him up on once before.
This time, though, he does check to make sure the couch is clear of anything before he sits.
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
"Yes," Isla says easily, without a moment's hesitation. "Yes, I would believe you." She holds him a little closer as they arrive at the house, raising her eyebrows and trying (and failing) to hide the smile that blooms across her lips. "Let's fix your head before we start looking at the floor?" she suggests, even as she's forced to stand by and watch him fumble with the doorknob.
Eventually they do make it inside, at least, and Isla releases Varus almost with a sigh of relief. While he gets comfortable on the couch, she moves to put the kettle onto the stove and collect up her medical bag that she might take a look at him. And after only a few short moments, Isla is sinking down to sit before him on a small, low chair, slipping what looks like a pen light from her bag.
"Okay," she says, "I'm going to shine this light in your eyes so I can check the reaction of your pupils. But this will also give me access to your latest scans, so I can make sure the damage isn't to bad. Is that alright?"
“You wanna go and see it when we’re done?” He asks while he fumbles, in between the attempts to figure out the fucking doorhandle. When he gets it, though, the charm is back on, the grin spreading easily even if his sensors continue to blare in his mind, vibrating and thrumming and generally distracting in comparison. He finds the couch easily, sinking into it after he’s checked, and when she’s returned to him, sitting in a chair opposite of him, he finds his hands unable to stay away from her – reaching out to rest on her knees, a small half lopsided smile on his face.
He’s all ears, though, eyes bright as he listens to her offering. “Of course it’s alright.” He offers her easily, some quiet excitement rumbling in the back of his mind at being able to help her practice more even if it came at a fault for his own personal safety (entirely due to his fault in the matter). But he straightens up, eyes focused on the pen light in her hand, waiting for her to check his eyes.
In his system scans, she’ll find much of the ordinary – little bumps and bruises here and there that have been healed, the edges of scar tissue build up with his metal arm that ping now and again to be checked despite there being nothing there, but most notably? The blunt concussion to his temple, and much like when he was Accepted, head injuries seemed to seep fluid like a dam breaking despite the wound itself being relatively small. And that is what the wound shows, mostly the loss of fluid and the flaring of the blunt force wound to the side of his head.
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
"When we're done here? Maybe we ought to give it a couple of days - I don't know yet how bad you've managed to bump your head. But after that, sure thing." Isla's bedside manner is well-practiced anyway, so it probably isn't so much of a surprise that she's able to easily and cheerfully shut down any impulsiveness on Varus's part. But it's also true that, for him, she'd have infinite patience. So as he leans forward and his hands rest on her knees, she can't help the smile that blooms across her lips.
"Thank you," she says sweetly, reaching out to touch a hand to his cheek and keep him steady while the light comes up to flash into his eyes. It's fascinating in its own way to see his pupils react to the light, even if it's a little slower than she'd expect (well, not really with a concussion). The scans, though - they are endlessly interesting for Isla, and the awe in her expression says it all as she examines him.
"You've got a bad concussion," she concludes after what doesn't feel like nearly long enough, Isla reluctantly turning off the light. "I'm going to get you all cleaned up, and then I'm afraid you're headed to bed, Cal."
“A couple of days?” Varus whines, but isla is lucky in the fact that she agrees regardless, even if it’s been after a few days, because at the very least he can plan and prepare while resting up to soothe her worries even if he harbors none of his own. He’d heal fine, he basically always did. Unless of course, it was a ruined arm, in which case she had been the one to fix it.
His hands find her legs and he nods his agreement, even as his vision sways with it and it sends another set of sparking sensors off – ones she’ll see immediately when her hand is on his cheek and the light flashes into his eyes. They’re bright blue under the light, with little flecks of grey and a spot of green hidden within as his pupils sluggishly try to slow.
And he waits and waits as she looks at him, understands his scans, and when she’s turning the light off and explaining what it was, he does offer a slight frown. “I’m only gonna go if you come with.” He protests weakly, like a child about to throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get his way.
Which isn’t entirely wrong.
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
"A couple of days," Isla confirms with a slow nod; she plays quite a good part of the teacher to his toddler's tantrum, offering him a smile that's both warm but leaves no room for argument, and settles back to grab up the supplies she needs to clean him up. "I wouldn't dream of going without you," she assures him of going to bed, carefully wiping away the fluid and ensuring that the cut isn't too deep. It only takes a small dressing and he's good to go - but then again, all the damage is on the inside.
"There. Good as new, Cal," she tells him, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze and leaning in to kiss his forehead, before helping to get him on his feet. Isla is content to tuck herself beneath his arm as she guides him into their bedroom, a space that's as much his these days as it is hers. "You want me to read to you?" she offers. "I've either got a medical textbook on performing craniotomies, or I have the ghost story I was reading."
She confirms what he doesn’t want to hear, but that’s fine. He’ll manage once he gets past the initial ugh sensation that spreads through him. But she moves to grab the supplies, agreeing that she’d come with him to lay down and Varus puffs out a breath of air with a small soft smile, head tilting wherever she needs it to go to clean him up.
As always, she works diligently and they’re done in what feels like a blink of an eye, eyes closing momentarily as her lips press a kiss to his forehead. And then he’s moving again, rising to his feet with her help, his arm slipping around her shoulders tightly as they walk to the bedroom. “Thank you.” He says softly, adoration slipping into his voice as he does so. The bed is in sight, though, and Varus only departs from Isla long enough to slip his shirt off over his head, idly reaching up to rub at where his metal arm connects to the rest of him. “Ghost story, duh.” He chimes, flashing her a bright fanged grin as he gets ready to curl up into bed. “Think I’ve had enough to think about with head injuries.” He points at the bandage she’d placed on his head as if for extra emphasis, before he’s patting the space beside him for her to curl up into that he might be able to nestle in against her, head in her lap to hear the story as his body starts to repair.
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
"You're very welcome," Isla says sweetly, carefully releasing him so he can peel off his shirt and get comfortable. In the meantime she does the same, taking off her shoes and changing into an oversized shirt (yes, it belongs to Varus), flashing him a grin at his choice. "I was rather hoping you'd say that," she admits, letting her hair down from its ponytail and collecting up her book before clambering into bed.
It's a familiar sort of routine by now, for Isla to nestle against the pillows and wait for Varus to curl snugly around her, and she busies herself flicking to the right page whilst he gets comfy. "Mm, next time we'll have to make sure you get a leg injury. I think you head has gotten enough bruises for a while," she says. "I'm surprised you had time to go and look in the underground, with all you've been doing with Wessex."
If he’s being honest, it’s a routine he looks forward to every time. He nestles into the bed, slipping an arm around her middle as he presses his head against her stomach, carefully out of the way yet in the way enough that he feels like he might be able to start the repairs as he listens. Of course, he can’t help the laugh that leaves him when she’s commenting on a leg injury, one of those legs moving to drape over her own. “I think it has too.” He agrees softly.
But his head tilts up to peer at her with a raise of a brow. “What, you think I can’t multitask?” He feigns offense, the arm draped around her moves to press against his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch, Isla, ouch.” He hums, eyes shutting for dramatic affect before one eye opens to see if she’s taking the bait of it.
Whether she does or doesn't, he nestles in again, peering at the book. "What story is it?"
and you ease my troubles with your hands, like the night puts a calm on the valley
