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!
The alarm is raised after a day or so, when Mateo doesn't show up for work and is surprisingly absent from his usual nightly escapades. A day or so because, honestly, it isn't all that unusual for the botanist to go missing on occasion, finding himself in someone's bed for an impromptu orgy only to escape some time later with a smile and sore hips.
But the usual haunts are empty, and la Verbena is nestled safely in the dock at the Falling. No Mateo, though.
But he knows where he is. Obviously. One might assume some drug addled bender has led him here to the Grotto, and whilst maybe there was a tipple of something involved, he's irritatingly sober. No, this simply happens sometimes, the botanist finding himself as intensely melancholy as he usually is vibrant.
The difference is he's stuck right now, tangled in the roots that prod out from the bottom of Stormbreak's airborne terrain, and he's waiting patiently either to be found, or to fall out an down towards Torchline and the Arclight. Maybe he'll fly - who knows.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Everest had a sliding scale by which he judged how concerned he ought to be about Mateo's sporadic absences. It was something he'd developed when they were both children, but which had grown more and more nuanced as they aged and as the botanist's inclinations grew more and more diverse. Previously, the aviator would panic if Mateo was even a minute late for lunch, and despite his friend reassuring him that he could be late for things without the world falling apart, Ever had taken it upon himself to develop principled ways of deciding when he was allowed to act on his rising panic.
Currently, the scale was set to a 5, which was colour coded as purple stripes with horizontal orange zigzags. This would mean nothing to anyone except for Everest, who, after having cross-checked several appendices, decided that yes, he was now allowed to panic.
Deciding to first look in the more dangerous parts of the city was in accord with his notes regarding Mateo's last seen locations. Had the botanist last visited one of the market stalls to get more eyeshadow and lubricant, Ever might have checked Molly's first. However, seeing as his friend's previous outings hadn't been of the sort to suggest that Ever ought to check beds and brothels first, he opted for areas of danger so that even if missing still, he'd know the botanist was somewhere safe.
All of that is to say that Ever was currently searching the underside of the Grotto.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
"Oh, hallo birdy." Mateo's voice sounds a little far away, in part because he's actually tangled bodily in some roots directly above the aviator, but also because it's been a little bit since he ate or drank anything, and he's pretty sure he's sprained or broken his ankle. (He neither knows nor cares). "What are you doing down here?"
The fact that the botanist is both coherent and relatively cheerful by a normal person's standards is something of a miracle, because he's considered in recent hours what it might be like to struggle free of the roots, bounce against a few outcrops of stone, and take flying into his own hands. He might spontaneously become an Attuned with a flighted shift, right?
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Recognizing his friend's voice immediately, the eagle calls out in response. Though Mateo won't be able to understand him, the aviator hopes that, so long as the botanist isn't on something which would make him think otherwise, Mateo would recognize that because he couldn't normally speak to birds, that this bird was probably an attuned. And, because Ever possessed this particular shift, that actually it was probably Ever.
Though, that might be a few deductions past what could hold Mateo's attention.
Given how large his wingspan was, it was a difficult thing indeed for Ever to try and find anywhere to land. Eagles were not like ravens or small songbirds that could just latch onto vertical roots and hang there, so although it was very hard for him to do, Ever did his best to try and hover as close to Mateo as he could all while trying to work out how best to land.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
Oh my gods, Mateo thinks, wise as he is stupid, that bird understands me. And there's your answer, Everest. Even so, promptly distracted from thoughts of potentially impending death, the botanist squirms in his root prison, a tongue poking from between his dry lips so he can try to properly face his new eagle friend. A friend who seems to be wanting to come and land near him!
"You are a little bit big for this," he says, "but I believe in us that we will be able to make it work." His solution, naturally, is to worm out an arm from the roots to act as a perch for the gigantic bird, offering his soft, buttery flesh up to the eagle's razor sharp talons. Mateo Taliesin, helper extraordinaire.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Yes, I am Ever silently agrees, wondering if it would be possible to shift, shout instructions to his friend as he was falling toward the ocean, and then shift back before certain death.
Trilling a sound of concern that might sound like any other eagle-call to the botanist, Ever flaps his wings a few times before letting himself fall slightly lower in order to bank around. If he couldn't land and Mateo couldn't...anything, then he needed to think of a different solution. With a piercing cry which was meant to communicate I'll be just a moment, but probably did nothing of the sort, the eagle flaps its wings and disappears over the rise.
Minutes later because Everest is no athlete even if he is quite strong nowadays, comes a rather panicked voice from above. "Mateo?" After another moment, one of Ever's feet will come into view as the aviator clings desperately to the roots of the Grotto and begins to lower himself down.
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
There's a lot of bird noises happening, which Mateo takes to mean he's definitely made a new friend and perhaps life isn't so bad after all, when the eagle promptly abandons him. "Oh." Sighing (and definitely dehydrated, exhausted, hungry and exposed to the elements), Mateo lets himself grow listless amongst the Grotto's roots again, his cheek lolling against a particularly uncomfortable bend in them that cricks his neck.
Having closed his eyes in a facsimile of sleep when a real voice suddenly chirps out, the botanist comes back to true consciousness abruptly enough to almost slip through his self-made prison, left clinging hard to the canopy and swallowing a lump of panic in his throat. "Ever?" he calls up to his friend. "Dio, you missed it. There was a huge eagle down here!"
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Creasing his brow before realizing that he needed to focus on not falling rather than making facial expressions that no one could even see, Ever swallowed down the world's smallest inclination toward sarcasm and merely nods. "That's very interesting. Eagles are very interesting creatures." He calls back, edging himself lower and lower.
Kicking out with a foot in the hope of finding something sturdy to catch it on, the aviator finds himself more or less dangling as Mateo finally comes into view. Tensing the muscles in his arms and hands and relying heavily on that 25 STR, Ever offers a polite smile before continuing to try and find a foothold.
'Why are you down here?'
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"Is that why you became one?" Mateo wonders, all but lolling back in his canopy of roots as his friend swings into view like some gods-damned Indiana Jones without the hat. The sight of Everest is enough to automatically have the botanist moving, though whether that's a good or a bad thing is yet to be determined. Hissing in a breath as he accidentally puts pressure on his hurt ankle, Mateo furrows his brow.
"I wanted to come somewhere that nobody would look for me," he admits - and clearly it had worked because nobody had found him until now. "But you were too clever for me. I think I would quite like to get out of the Grotto now, though." As if that would be at all possible in their current conditions. "Do you think la Verbena could get down here?"
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Most people are able to assuage their guilt over lying by knowing that there is a time and place for certain conversations. Now, for instance, was not a great time to go into a detailed explanation of how shifts are chosen, how sometimes they aren't chosen, and all the other nuances of being an attuned. Of course to just say yes, would be a lie, though it would allow Ever to get to more important things.
Like why Mateo was tangled up in the Grotto in the first place.
'I'll tell you later, over tea.' The aviator says, before allowing his brow to furrow properly now that Mateo can see it. "Are you hurt?" Straining for a toehold and finding one, Ever triple-checks his body's intuition that it could make it, before throwing himself forward and into a new tangle.
'There is nowhere I wouldn't look for you.' Ever says in a low voice as he turns gingerly onto his side so as not to disturb the roots too much. "Down? Yes. Close enough for you to board her?" Setting his lips into a thin line, the aviator wants to shake his head no.
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"I think I would quite like tea," Mateo admits, huffing out a sigh that feels more like a wheeze as he watches Ever monkey around in the Grotto roots, suddenly (painfully) aware that he's covered in dirt and dust and bits of tree root. "I think there is something wrong with my ankle," he says of being hurt, glancing down but seeming unable to properly spy the issue from his current angle.
In truth it's just a sprain that's likely been left to grow stiff given that Mateo has been hanging out here overnight, and with enough persuasion, he can probably hobble on it. To hear his friend's next words has his eyes suddenly stinging, though, the botanist wriggling more earnestly to free himself from the roots. "I guess we will just have to use the tunnel I came through," he says in a tight voice, flailing an arm somewhere to his left where an opening in the stone shows a blessedly safe pathway up.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
Wrong in Mateo's vocabulary could mean any number of things, from being dirty to having on the wrong shoes, to being broken. Given the sad angle it was currently lolling at, Ever judged it was closer to the latter, but seeing as Mateo didn't appear to be stoned out of his mind (and thus perhaps more numb to the pain than he would otherwise have been), the aviator assumed if it was broken, it was just a small fracture. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can help, but not from here. We-"
Falling silent at the mention of a tunnel and feeling suddenly extremely claustrophobic, Ever glances down below them to calculate the risk of bringing the skyboat to them one more time. Judging that it was still a poor idea, he too sighed.
Reaching down and unbuckling the belt he was wearing, he glanced to Mateo. "Either I can go first and help pull you along, or you can, and I can push you. Which would you prefer?" Ever, who would prefer neither, would leave the choice to Mateo.
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
"It is alright, it is my own fault for getting into such a mess. It usually is," Mateo mutters, twisting a little more towards the tunnel and feeling his entire body protest at the movement, but suddenly with Everest here, he's got the motivation to keep going all. Or to do anything, in fact.
Having no clue what the aviator is unbuckling his belt for (This isn't the time to use that! says Professor Oak), Mateo is left trying very hard to shimmy out of the root prison he's gotten himself into, and the yawning abyss below isn't looking quite so tempting any more. "I will go first," he decides. "I think I remember the way out."
That, of course, remains to be seen, but it doesn't stop the botanist from continuing his foolhardy plight towards the tunnel, as if he hasn't been very much stuck for the past day and a half.
I wanna wake up Can't even tell if this is a dream
A more socially adept mind might have read between the lines of Mateo's statement and offered some sort of encouragement. Everest of course did nothing like this, but merely nodded; it was Mateo's fault and often was, not that the aviator was particularly bothered by it.
'Okay. Here-' Tugging the leather out entirely, he nods for Mateo to turn slightly. "I'm going to attach this to the back of your belt so that we'll stay connected." Ever explains, before steeling himself against what he's going to say next. 'I'll keep my head low and shoulders tight. You can use them as footholds if and when you need.' The aviator would do anything for the botanist of course, but that didn't mean his mind wouldn't still recoil at the thought of being touched so much and so often in such a small space.
'I'll be right behind you and we can go together, and if you need a push because of your ankle, just say the word.' If it comes too much, we can switch places and you can use the belt like a leash and I can pull you as a dog.
I've done the math, checked the facts And there's no changing that
