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!
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
Isla had absolutely been right when she’d mentioned the absolute variety of things here in Stormbreak. Of course, the idea of the floating city was still one nearly impossible to wrap his mind around, but Asta takes it in pride – his exterior nothing but confident and quiet excitement, put together without a single hair out of place, while internally he’s having a lot of dear dygra, what the all holy fuck is going on up here? with the obvious sidenote of why don’t you have a shrine in the Plaza?
But anyway, he’s not in the Plaza this particular moment. He’s collected quite a variety of outfits that suit him, though he still wears that maroon one that he’d gotten in Torchline. The cane ticks against the stone leading up to the White Hart, having not indulged in alcohol in some time, yet choosing to partake up here. Why not? Underbellies have always been a fan favorite for the tall Ancient anyway.
His presence isn’t that imposing, looking every inch the gentleman despite his tall stature, complete with the horns that poke up and curl back from his temples, ones that cast quite the devilish shadow as he enters the bar. The cane continues to tap against the floor, until he reaches the bar itself, ordering something strong and smoky, letting his dark gaze scan around the area to take it all in.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
And to Astaroth's credit, there's a lot to take in. The White Hart is buzzing with activity tonight; a group of gamblers are playing cards around one of the larger tables, there are barflies and drunkards filling the seats, and someone plays a piano against the far wall, filling the bar with a jaunty tune. But he remains unmolested at the counter, at least, and even the somewhat grizzled looking demigod who enters hardly gives him the time of day as he approaches.
Indeed, it's with nothing more than a gruff nod that Ronin sidles up beside the Ancient, tapping the bar for a shot of whiskey, neat. The past few days have been nothing but rough for the Nova, and though he usually doesn't stray far from his husband, sometimes Remi has things to do or wants to go out with their son, and Ronin has to entertain himself. And what can he say? The Hart has always been a vast source of entertainment.
Receiving his drink and shooting it back smoothly, he raises a brow as he accidentally jostles the arm of the man next to him. "Sorry," Ronin mutters to Astaroth automatically, voice roughened by the alcohol.
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
There is a lot to take in, but Asta doesn’t let it show on his face – not while he scans the bar while he awaits his order, alongside casually scanning those in attendance. It’s a varying mixture, it seems, though very little Ancients (much to his displeasure), but he supposes beggars can’t be choosers here, shifting the cane to hook around his opposite arm as he reaches for the glass the bartender sets for him.
Only, he doesn’t grab it, because someone’s bumping into him, and he bumps the glass and spills a tiny drop of it onto the counter. His nose wrinkles lightly, flicking off the liquor that’s clinging to his fingers. He grabs the glass after, hears the apology and tilts his head slightly toward the shorter man. “Apology accepted.” He says after a brief moment of noticing the state of the other man.
He's silent for a few moments as he takes a sip of his own drink, the first time having alcohol in so long seems to burn nicely against his throat, reminiscent of times long before. But now there’s use to dwell on it, and so Astaroth turns toward the demigod now that things appear to be squared away. “Are you drinking to forget?” He probes boldly.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
Offering a slight nod to show he's heard the stranger, Ronin is ordering his second shot by the time the smooth voice reaches his ears, and he scoffs a mirthless laugh down into his drink. "If only I could," he says, voice low and sardonic. Alas, a demigod's constitution means it will take several more shots to even entertain a slight buzz, and he'll remember everything even if he drinks the bar dry.
"New to Stormbreak?" he guesses, merely by the tell-tale signs that the other man is an Ancient. They really don't see too many of Dygra's children up in the floating city, he realises; it's probably too cold for them. "Ought to be careful. Reckon a storm's on the way." And when they hit Stormbreak these days, they hit hard.
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
He’s silent as Ronin responds, but he is quite watchful as well. The mirthless laugh, the way he seems almost hunched as he drinks yet another shot. The way it doesn’t appear to be doing anything for him that it absolutely would be doing for Astaroth. He pulls his attention away to take another sip, letting the burn settle yet again down his throat, leaving his tone a bit deeper than it otherwise is.
The question is met with a soft hummed laugh, an incline of his horned head. “Is it so obvious?” He asks, shooting a grin back down at the other man all while his tail lashes a little behind him in the annoyance of the fact he does stick out like a sore thumb. Ah well, it certainly gives him another reason to take a drink.
“So I have heard. Fortunately for me, I don’t intend to be here long.” Quite casually, Asta shifts the cane to his other arm, sets his glass down and lets his fingers trail through the condensation beginning to haze the outside of it from the single ball of ice within. “Stormbreak did not exist when I was last awake, so, of course I had to take a look and see what the fuss was about.” It’s an air of cockiness in his tone, a leading question in order to make Ronin ask, and with it the Ancient keeps that amused smile on his face while his dark eyes glance sidelong at the demigod.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
"A lucky guess," Ronin assures the other man, glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the White Hart, where there's a distinct lack of tails and fangs and horns.
"You likely won't be the last, though. Stormbreak has only recently started opening its doors to everyone. It'll take some time for people to realise they can visit." Tapping the bar for his third drink, the Nova at least asks for this one in a real glass with ice, so he doesn't shoot it back quite so quickly.
After receiving said drink, he glances sidelong at the stranger again, offering a crooked smile, weary though it might be. "And how is it holding up in your estimations so far?" he asks. "I'm Ronin, by the way." Since this has graduated from an apology to a full conversation.
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
It is a pity that there aren’t more of those blessed as he is – horns and tails and fangs and horns. After all, it would make for a much more interesting visit here rather than feeling as though he’s the only one. While that feeling isn’t unfamiliar, it’s certainly not his favorite, but he digresses. Especially as Ronin informs him that it had been a little secluded paradise, hiding itself away from certain people – a tidbit that has him intrigued, but one he doesn’t ask about.
“Interesting.” Is all he has to say about that, until his dark eyes are following the third drink and the buzz of his first alcohol in centuries starts to fuzz his mind a little, drawing comfort in a way he wasn’t sure how he intended to handle it. “It is a bit too polished for my tastes.” Which is hilariously ironic, given his impeccable polished appearance. But ah, he had a love for thriving in the darkness. He just preferred to look good doing it. “But it has had the best selection of accouterments I've seen so far.”
Another incline of his horned head to the introduction has him flashing another easy grin. “Astaroth. A pleasure to meet you, Ronin.” He elongates the demigods name on his tongue, as if fully intending to commit the name to memory.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
"Too polished?" Ronin echoes with a soft scoff into his glass. "My good sir, I feel like you must have been looking in all the wrong places - especially here in The Silk Houses." It's been a while since the Nova was quite such a familiar face in Stormbreak's underbelly, but from memory he can think of several gambling parlours, fight clubs, drug dens and brothels that are not nearly so polished.
Still, if the man - Astaroth, as he introduces himself - has really only been after boutique niceties so far, Ronin can understand why he wouldn't have seen the real diamonds in the rough that the city has to offer. "The pleasure is mine," he rumbles, tilting his glass at the other man in a cheers. "Where are you headed next, if Stormbreak is only a brief visit?"
/// forgive me father, for i have sinned and as i kneel here now,
A dark brow rises as if in challenge of proving him wrong, hiding the amusement of the grin behind his glass as he hums a little thoughtfully. “Mm, admittedly I haven’t ventured far into the bellies.” And would he? Probably not. While yes, it was likely a place he’d thrive in, something about Stormbreak seemed to suggest there were too many watchful eyes – impossible to lure comfortably without striking up some kind of response.
So, this is likely as far as he’ll get.
Which is fine, he tilts his own glass back toward Ronin in his own little cheers back, taking a sip before he responds and sets the glass down, letting his fingers trail along the condensation yet again. “The Hollowed Grounds is next for me.” He offers up easily, flashing Ronin an easier smile before he drains the rest of his glass and the cane clicks against the ground.
Astaroth
hands red with blood, i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
"Maybe something for a sunnier day," Ronin notes with a smirk; Leafchange brings a chill to most regions, but especially up here in the bluster of the sky city, the weather can be very cutting. And he might not know too much about the Ancients (perhaps something worth exploring some time soon) but he knows they favour heat and fire in a way the Ascended positively did not, so he can't blame Astaroth for his short stay.
Granted, he both does and doesn't expect to hear that the Grounds is next on his journey, and were the man not already posturing to leave, Ronin might have had further to say on the matter. Not that it would be of much interest to the other man; he'd been asleep before the barrier had even formed, and would know little and care less about the changes to the land in recent times.
And so it's with a quiet, "Safe travels," and a lingering raise of his glass to see him off that the Nova returns to his night of forgetting. Or trying to, at least.
