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!
Alright, so physical relaxation probably isn't going to be achieved by throwing a ball for his friend, but it's something that Mateo still wants to do for Ever. Since he heard about the ball-throwing-machine and the poison ivy extravaganza it prompted, he's made a point to come out to the Celestine at least a couple of times a week, and his bag of holding is great for bringing a truly glorious number of tennis balls.
Granted, he isn't quite as good at throwing as the machine (and he has other things planned that might potentially help with his Frey quest), but it's the thought that counts, right. So saying, it's in a light jacket and with a chill Leafchange breeze ruffling his curls that he yeets another ball for the aviator, hoping the wind might carry it in an unexpected direction for him to chase.
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
Everest, taking Mateo precisely at his word, thought they were just playing ball. In as far as that was going, the canine was content. He'd missed a few balls so far and had to go scrounging around in the underbrush of a few exhibits, but as a dog, the idea of trespassing didn't bother him quite as much. Certainly not when there was a ball to retrieve, anyway.
Twisting in the air as the tennis ball went rogue, Ever's upper body goes one way as his hips go another, and for a man who wasn't that coordinated most of the time, the way he was able to still the motion with his tail so that he landed with all four paws on the ground was quite impressive.
Returning to Mateo with the ball between his jaws, Ever drops it at the botanist's feet before back up a few paces, his bright blue eyes going from the ball to Mateo, and then back to the ball again.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
"I forgot how good you are at this," Mateo praises as Ever snatches the ball from the air, leaning down to retrieve it as it's dropped at his feet. "Alright, ready?" Jogging back a few steps, he manages to give the ball a firm throw between gusts of wind this time, and it flies straight and bounces down the Celestine path.
They're in a relatively secluded corner of the gardens - Mateo has made sure of that, because he knows the idea of being an inconvenience to anyone would be horrifying to the aviator - and so they're able to play for at least another half an hour before a few people strolling amble by, and Mateo plops onto the grass for a break.
"Well, I think we got our steps in for the day," he tells Ever with a smile, rummaging in his bag for a bottle of water (and a bowl, so his canine best friend can also have a drink).
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
07-03-2023, 09:09 PM (This post was last modified: 07-03-2023, 09:10 PM by Everest.)
Everest
That's what she said.
Turning and streaking toward the ball, Ever's tail acts the way a rudder does to keep the canine straight despite the wind. Barking in the wake of the ball, the shepherd draws to a stop before snapping up the ball in his teeth and loping proudly back to Mateo. On and on this goes until the botanist seems to need a break. Despite feeling as though he could go for hours that's what she said, Ever dutifully follows the botanist, panting rapidly with his long pink tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.
Barking his agreement, the shepherd waits patiently until Mateo has poured the water and backed away, before eyeing his friend for approval. Lapping at the water - did you know dogs 'tongues curl under when they drink? fun fact - Ever drains the bowl before laying down in the shade and resuming a steady pant pant pant rhythm. To anyone looking on, the botanist appeared to be relaxing with his incredibly well-behaved dog, which was not really as far from the truth as other attuned's might think.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones.
You've encountered the OG random event! This allows you to skip one levelling requirement with the character in this thread. (Unfortunately does not count for characters over level 10, how sad.)
Grinning as he drinks the remainder of the water from the bottle (even knowing it's his friend in the body of the canine, he can't help it if it's adorable to hear bright barks in response to ball chasing and his comments), Mateo returns everything to the bag and settles in the shade as well. Reaching out to give thick ruff around Ever's neck a soft scritch, the botanist lets out a quick curse and an apology in the travelling tongue as his fingers catch on a snag of fur.
Alright, so maybe his segue into Everest's Relaxation Attempt #1 is legitimate. "We are going to need to take you to a groomer," he says with a raise of his eyebrows to the aviator, as if posing this worst case scenario will make his offer more acceptable. "Or I can try?"
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
Yelping more out of surprise than pain, Everest leaps to his feet and jumps back a step or two with his ears flat against his skull before rationality can reassert itself. Ow. He thinks to the botanist even though he's well aware that Mateo won't be able to hear him.
Whining, his ears softening but remaining down still, the shepherd lowers himself and belly crawls toward Mateo as if in virtue of simply being cute he might evade the dreaded G word. One of Ever's large ears pops forward at the suggestion, and, tilting his head to the side, the dogs seems to consider. Anyone who has owned a dog knows how expressive they can be such that Mateo likely won't need the attuned bond in order to guess what's going through his friend's mind. Still, even as Ever lets out a long and pathetic whine, he does place his head squarely between his paws before huffing miserably.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
"Sorry, sorry," Mateo repeats in a language he definitely knows his friend can understand, and it's lucky that Ever isn't a dog full time, because even a glimpse of puppy dog eyes and cute belly crawls would have him submitting to the aviator's every whim. Scritching the soft fur on top of the canine's head as if to cement his apology, Mateo moves to rummage back in his bag, locating a brush and a comb and setting them before Ever to sniff while he sets the bag aside.
"Lucky for you I am always prepared for a change of style," he tells the aviator, not that he expects him to be happy about this given the circumstances (and the whining). "It is not so bad - I do my best to be gentle, anyway. A lot of people enjoy having their hair played with, you know." So saying, he retrieves the brush first to try some light, gentle strokes down the length of the shepherd's back, staying away from any tangles for now.
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
Scenting the brush and noting the distinct smells of his friend's various hair tonics and such, Everest gives a last whine of protest before shuffling himself politely before the botanist.
Between his paws, Everest gives the sort of whine/huff that conveys much more emotion than it has any right to. Enduring the brushing if only because Ever is a Very Good Boy, the muscles of his back twitch slightly in various places as the bristles pass over particularly itchy patches, though for the most part the canine does his best to keep still. Despite his efforts, there are certain places that he reflexes moves in response to, with a thumb of one leg and the stretching of his neck as if the brush in Mateo's hand was merely an extension of himself that these movements could control.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
Ever is a Very Good Boy, and while Mateo can't help but grin at his friend's tolerance for the brushing, it isn't exactly relaxation. Still, even if this doesn't work, it will save a trip to the groomer, and so the botanist continues with his puppy pamper session, carefully teasing out tangles and lingering in the areas that Ever seems to enjoy. Eventually, of course, he can't help himself, Mateo abandoning the brush to deliver deep scritches to the scruff of the canine's neck and flanks, as if able to scratch the itches he can't reach.
"Well, you are tangle free," he informs Ever, "so you should be able to avoid the G-Word for the foreseeable future. I do feel as though I should give you a little bowtie for behaving so well, though." Beaming, he lets out a soft sigh and relaxes back in the grass.
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
Grumbling happily as Mateo opts to use his fingers rather than the brush, which, for anyone who knows Ever might be surprised by this, the canine relaxes slightly more and stretches out his neck for the botanist's fingers to reach into his ruff.
Cracking open a blue eye, the shepherd snaps at the air with bright white teeth. Whether it's in response to the G-Word or the threat offer of a bowtie is up to Mateo to decide. (It's both). Sitting up as Mateo flops down, Ever rises and pads a few feet away to retrieve his ball before tottering back to the botanist's side. Laying down, his hip immediately jutting out the side comfortably, Ever begins to gnaw at the tennis ball. With his nose wrinkling, he begins to peel away the fluff with precise and sharp snaps of his teeth, depositing them in a small pile near one paw.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
It's the sound of the tennis ball murder more than the sight of it that alerts Mateo, the botanist having closed his eyes against the warm Leafchange sunlight. Peeking across at Ever and smiling crookedly, he rolls onto his side and gets an elbow beneath him to tut at the shepherd. "And how are we supposed to use that to play fetch now that you have made it bald?" he wonders, reaching out to pluck a bit of fuzz off the aviator's nose.
"If you wanted something to destroy, I should have brought some of the clothes I don't need any more." Maybe the holes made by Ever's teeth would be an aesthetic and Mateo will want to upcycle the outfits, who knows? Regardless, for now the botanist fully takes advantage of Ever's canine form, giving one silky ear a gentle scritch.
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
Though most dogs when spoken to like this give the approximation of thoughtfully listening, Mateo can be sure that Ever does understand despite how his dark blue eyes stare back a touch mistrustfully. Looking from the botanist to the ball, the shepherd gives a huff as the fuzz is removed from his muzzle before whisper-barking in firm disagreement.
Ears perked, the shepherd tilts his head comically to the side and looks expectantly at his friend as if he might produce said clothes on the spot. When he fails to do so, Ever contents himself briefly with ear scritches before he's suddenly off like a shot. Leaping over Mateo with the sort of grace and bodily control he certainly didn't possess as a man, the shepherd is barking loudly in swift pursuit of a blink hare who has either wandered out of its exhibit or has just wandered into the Celestine of its own accord.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
Tittering to himself and enjoying the ear scritches as well, Mateo overbalances a little as the shepherd suddenly bolts away, leaving him laying (albeit comfortably) in the grass on his belly. "Everrrrr," he complains, slowly rolling over - and covering himself in the tennis fluff the canine has torn from his ball - to see what the problem is.
Really, the barking should have given it away. Mateo can only grin as the blink hare responds rather typically, bolting towards some thorny undergrowth and promptly vanishing, as if to lure an unsuspecting doggo into getting his muzzle stuck with prickles. "Careful!" he calls out automatically, unsure whether instinct will win out over logic here.
i've told you time and time again i'm not as think as you drunk i am
