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!
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
For Mateo's part, he's much more excited by the pussy in the cage than the one wearing Lululemon sweats, but then again give it an hour and he might be back for the receptionist. Either way, as they are presented with the blue eyed beauty in all her judgy glory, Mateo all but lights up from within again, and he beams at Ever. "I want this one," he tells him. "Ever, her name is Petunia." Petunia the Balinese, to be precise. Hypoallergenic, 7 years old, spayed. Must be the only cat in the household. Cannot live with dogs, children, or other animals.
"I think she's perfect," Mateo announces, even as Petunia the Balinese looks quite convinced that she's going to have the two idiots before her cage for dinner. And the sound she makes when the receptionist starts to unlock the cage? Ooooof. It'd put wolves to shame, and Mateo loves her all the more for it.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Petunia. Well, if anything was going to solidify her place in their lives, it was that. Ever finds himself nodding before Mateo has even finished speaking, already imagining this AU Sugar-equivalent this blue-eyed queen stalking about their apartment. "Hello." The paramedic offers politely as he reaches out two tentative fingers that Petunia deftly swats away. Frowning, though seeming to accept her judgement in stride, Ever instead shoves his hands into his pockets. "We'll take her."
And so it goes that after breakfast but before dinner and Ever's shift, the roommates find that they have acquired a second landlord, one who happens to now live with them and is far more demanding than the old woman to whom they give money each month.
Having repurposed one of the organ-transfer containers from the hospital, Ever returns to the apartment with the container in one hand and a box under his arm. Carefully, though he'd be just as meticulous had the box contained nothing more than wrapping paper, the paramedic sets the things down on the counter and merely gapes at them for a moment. There's a curious vibrating in his bones—adrenaline—that he isn't used to. Wondering if perhaps he needs to poop, Ever opts to leave his things on the table; Mateo is probably asleep or out, it being the middle of the day.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
Mateo is out, it's true, but Petunia is in, laying like a loaf on the back of their sofa and watching Everest with judging blue eyes. Before she has a chance to ask him what he's doing via a tangle around the legs, though, Mateo does breeze in. Today his curls are knotted up in a casually messy man-bun, and he's wearing a black shirt and pants and his florist's apron. "Il negozio è occupato oggi," he says with a huff of a sigh, before brightening at the sight of his friend.
"Are you home early? Or late?" he wonders, pausing to scritch Petunia behind the ear (she swats at his hand) before approaching the boxes that Ever has set down. "Ooo, did my Amazon orders come?" Whatever they might be is a mystery. Odds are even Mateo doesn't remember.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Turning, having not yet reached the bathroom Ever quietly considers his friend's question. "Yes." He decides, being both early and late in varying respects. However as the florist's attention is turned toward the items on the tabletop, all thoughts about his bowels disappear as Ever hustles back toward the table. "No—!" He calls a bit too enthusiastically (for him). "—er, no. Those are mine." Reaching for the organ-cooler and then the box, Ever tugs them toward his side of the table.
"Do you want to see?" He asks, sounding uncharacteristically excited, such that there almost seems to be a sparkle in his blue gaze as he glances across at Mateo.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
One of these things is not like the others - and it's quite obviously Ever. Still, Mateo blooms as prettily as any of his flowers as he sidles into his seat at the table opposite, letting his hands clasp together as he watches his friend both take the boxes away and want to show him what's within them. "You have brought home something? Obviously I want to see." He grins.
He's come up for a break and probably some lunch in the form of a microwave meal and a bit of wilted fruit from the fruitbowl, but suddenly Mateo isn't so hungry any more. Not when there's a sparkle in the paramedic's eye and an unknown to be peeked at.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
For a moment Ever's fingers drum restlessly against the boxes as if there might still be time to weigh his decision to show Mateo what's inside. Pulling in a breath as he seems to reassure himself of something, the paramedic opens the amazon-type box first. Pulling away the tape and pulling out a rather blocky looking pen-thing encased in bubble wrap, he sets it down delicately on the table as if it were made of glass. "And..." Aptly used, the organ transfer cooler contains a blocky and pinkish mound of flesh. Drained of blood and smelling of chemicals rather than death, Ever removes what is in fact part of a pig.
"Tadaaaa." He hums with a strange cheerfulness given that he's just put a mound of flesh and what might be mistakenly taken as some sort of torture device onto the table.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
It's a good thing that curiosity has already muted his appetite, because the stink of chemicals and the sight of a literal pound of flesh on the kitchen table between them would have done the job quite marvellously . Mateo blinks a couple of times as the torture device and (presumably) the torture victim are revealed, and his expression remains in the careful sunny rictus that it had been before he realised what the fuck was happening.
"Ah!" he announces after a few moments. "Ah it's... one of those! Of course it is. How wonderful. I... well, you see. I have decided recently that I am going to try out being a vegetarian, Ever. So I will not be able to partake in..." Mateo gives a helpless sort of hand gesture that seems to say all of this.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Misunderstandings abound. "Oh." Ever says, frowning and looking thoughtful for a moment. "Well...I think there are some inks that are vegan? But, I'm not asking to practice on you." Unsure how ink was either vegan or not (a marketing tactic, he currently believed), the paramedic shrugs and runs a finger over the slab of meat, before closing his eyes and running the same finger over the skin of his hand.
'It's remarkably similar. Want to feel? There's no blood and it's quite cold, but the texture." Ever who is almost always enthusiastic about anatomy, now looks properly crazy with delight as he unwraps what Mateo has currently labelled his torture device with incredibly careful and reverent fingers.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Oh I absolutely do not want to feel," Mateo informs his friend with the same warmth and affection that one might declare their love for another, and he can't seem to take the smile from his face, no matter how horrified it has become. "This is the most un-vegan thing I have seen in a long time. And I wear crocodile skin boots," he tells him like he's trying to do him a favour, cringing ever so slightly at the way Ever caresses the slab of flesh.
Internally wondering if he can start a podcast called my best friend is a serial killer, it all becomes a bit more clear, at least, when Ever starts unwrapping his torture device, and Mateo thinks his pulse starts to slow down a bit. Thinks, but isn't entirely sure. "Is that... is that a tattoo gun?" He tries not to sound too hopeful.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
'No?' Ever looks a touch disappointed, frowning as he pulls the light pink slab of meat back. 'I have heard of others practicing on the skin of oranges but...the skin isn't quite right. It doesn't mimic human flesh the way this does." And because this comedy of errors could get worse, adds. "I almost wish it could flinch or cry out in pain, so I would know if I was being too rough." Ever says with a sigh.
"Mm? Of course it is." Tugging the plastic off and then opening a small velvet pouch that holds a variety of needles of different widths, Ever glances up with an entirely naive and curious expression. "What else would it be?"
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
Of course it is, he says. This isn't weird even for me, he says. Okay, so he doesn't say that, but Mateo thinks it on Ever's behalf. Looking a mixture of perplexed and morbidly curious that this quivering mound of flesh might be able to call out if Ever is being too rough, he shivers to himself and tries to keep his eyes on the tattoo gun. Weirdly, that's the least strange thing out of everything here.
"Oh, I don't know. You know me, I'd have probably tried to inject the ink into my blood," he says cheerfully, waving off his friend like this is an every day conversation. "But you can practice on me if you want to. Once you've practiced enough on... on that." Mateo wrinkles his nose and gets back to his feet. "Anyway, I was going to have lunch but now I'm just gonna cry into the roses, so I'll catch you later?"
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
"Please don't inject ink into your blood, Mateo." Ever says suddenly, and with gravity, his blue eyes seeming to reach across the table to grab and hold his friend's stare. "That would be very bad. Even with vegan ink." He adds.
Distracted by the instructions that have come with the tattoo gun, Mateo is already up and nearly out the door before Ever registers he's said something. "Okay." He calls after the florist, losing the rest of the afternoon to reading and research.
///
"But if we're wearing masks, what is the point of all this?" Ever asks, and it's about as much of a protest as he's going to give, seeing as Mateo is currently curling his eyelashes with enough tension that one swift movement is going to have them all plucked out. Sat on Mateo's bed with glitter and different coloured eyeshadows scattered around like a drunken disassembled rainbow, Ever realizes how incredibly wrong he was to think that going as the Foreman for tonight's Halloween party would be a low-key affair.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Um, because," says Mateo, removing the eyelash curler and inspecting Ever's face very carefully before deciding that it is satisfactory, "we won't be at the party all night will we? And when we leave, maybe we won't want to wear masks any more. Besides, imagine how surprised everyone will be when you take off that mask and..." Mateo makes a gesture like a chef's kiss, putting down the curler and leaning back to see if he is happy with the look so far.
He, of course, is already done, having decided on a gold palette for his own makeup (it will match the pale gold bowtie he plans to wear with his tuxedo), though at present he's sitting in his underwear so as not to get it all over his clothes. "Hold still or I'll poke you in the eye with mascara," he warns, before instructing Ever to look up so he can apply it.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
Fluttering his lashes unintentionally Ever is at risk of leaving lines in his foundation given the deep frown lines he's forming. Shirtless but in the leather pants that Mateo has forced him into wearing, the paramedic sighs and tries to keep still, distracting himself by watching the sparkles that shift and dance on Mateo's eyelids.
"If you poke me in the eye, the rest of the doctors and staff will be diagnosing me with any number of ailments." He remarks mildly while his right hand subtly steals a makeup brush that he might have something tactile to fidget with. "Is that...are you sure that's necessary?" Going slightly cross-eyed as he watched Mateo choose a shade of lipstick, Ever nervously licks his lips and gulps.
I was a dead man walking, with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
