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!
”Oh, I don’t doubt it. I can just see you there, staff in one hand, sitting broodily on a rock with your sheep all around you,” she says, the humor finally reaching her eyes. It should feel wrong to joke in Maea’s room, but it doesn’t. It seems like something Maea might have liked, to know that they could still find some happiness, no matter how much they missed her.
He jokes back too as she admits to liking him, and she smiles, pleased to see some humor sticking around. Even if it is only a little bit, it is something. ”No, no wool. But I have given you a fire,” she says, gesturing to the hearth. ”And if you are ever in need of ningo feathers, I am an excellent trapper.” She could think of other ways to keep them both warm too, but that is a joke she will not make in a dead girl’s bedroom. Besides, neither of them actually need to be kept warm at all.
Weaver picks up the amulet her fingers have been resting on. It is a pretty thing, and she finds herself drawn to it, reminded of their conversation, and Maea’s suggestion not to give up on Ludo. ”Oh, I suspect he will pretend to hate it, and I am absolutely fine with taking the fall.” Because she doubts he will actually mind. He may even enjoy it. Besides, she treats Sunjata not unlike she would treat her brothers, and she doesn’t mind needling him some. ”Did Maea have a location on those invitations yet?” They could use the Kraai, but something in Torchline seems more fitting, and Weaver would like to honor as many of Maea’s plans as they can.
Letting out a huff of laughter, Loren nodded. "You forgot the little flute I'd play while I watched them frolic." It was an entirely silly image that was quite far from the truth.
Glancing at the fire, he smiled faintly. "That you have." Holding up an arm, feathers rippled along it for a brief moment. "I'm good on feathers at the moment. Thanks though." Again, the genuinely grateful expression was at odds with the joking words.
Pressing his lips together, he finally sighed. "Alright." Scanning the invitation, he frowned slightly. "Their home in Torchline." For a moment, his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard.
At that she outright laughs. Not just a soft chuckle, but a proper laugh, and it feels good to laugh too. Even as they stand there in Maea’s room, poaching her things and finishing plans she would never get to execute, Weaver is glad for the moment of levity.
Loren shifts his arm into feathers, and the gesture is reminiscent of Sunjata, who often seemed to have a wing or a feathered covered arm. ”Yes, but I imagine you do not want to pluck yourself and stuff your feathers in a pillow,” she points out. Not that she suspects he lacks for pillows or blankets or anything else in the Palace. ”Though I did pluck my brother for the feathers on my cloak.”
As he scans the invitation and responds though, Weaver stops from examining another of the items still left on the shelf. She’d been around to pick up the book, to see what was inside, but her chest tightens at the mention of their house. ”Ah. Perhaps...I don’t know. I don’t know if we should do as she wanted or if we ought to move it nearby, perhaps outside, somewhere.”
Joining Weaver in her laughter, Loren found himself relaxing without meaning to. As she mentioned he might need a pillow, he shook his head automatically. "Nah. Pillows are too luxurious for me." He admitted it without thinking, and he flushed slightly at the inadvertent truth.
Snorting as she revealed she'd plucked her brother for her cloak, the healer made a show of hiding his hands behind his back. "Remind me to stay away from you when you need a new one, then." He flashed her a quick grin.
It faded as they discussed the party plans. Frowning thoughtfully, he rubbed his hands together. "What about the beach? Close to their...his home, but not in it." It came out hesitantly.
”I recall you sleeping on rocks,” she says, though she gives him a curious look. ”Even in the Palace, do you still sleep without a pillow?” The question isn’t judgmental, merely curious. It seemed Loren never ceased to surprise her.
Though her amusement returns as he hides his arms behind his back. ”In my defense, some of the feathers he just lost. And the rest I plucked slowly.” Still, he hadn’t been the most willing donor, and the feathers had been merely for decorative use. What could she say? She liked the look.
Weaver nods at his suggestion. ”I like that. It seems like a good compromise.” She turns her attention back to the room, looking to the desk and the papers she had ignored earlier. ”Does she have any other details in there?” Weaver asks, at the same time moving back to the desk to see if there was anything else they could find.
Almost guiltily, Loren nodded. "Yeah I...can't sleep if it's too soft." He flushed a furious shade of crimson and found he couldn't quite meet Weaver's eyes.
Bringing one hand out from behind his back, he waggled a finger at her. "Stick to Ningos and brothers. Or else I might find something of yours to pluck, see how you like it." He managed to smile at her.
Thankfully she agreed with his idea and he breathed a sigh of relief. Going through the rest of the pile, he didn't spot anything. So he joined her in rifling through the rest of the papers.
As he rifled through the notes, he revealed a half-finished map. As he uncovered it, he felt his eyes grow watery. Suddenly lost to his surroundings, he just stood there, staring at it.
”To each their own,” she says with a shrug, clearly not judging his choice. No, in fact, like usual, she finds herself a bit surprised. Despite knowing at least some of his history, she cannot help but imagine the Palace making everyone who lives in it soft. Yet Loren seems to still be himself, and she wonders if he enjoys his place within Halo’s elite, or if he’d prefer to be anywhere else. Now is not the time for such conversations though, and instead she merely jokes. ”You would hate my bed, then.” The tone is not suggestive, just teasing. Her bed was made of so many feathers, largely because they ate so much ningo. They needed something to do with the extra feathers.
She chuckles. ”What if I just want to collect a piece of you?” she asks with a playful grin, feigning a grab toward his feathers with no intention of actually plucking one. ”I have only hair to pluck in return, though you are welcome to some.” She picks up her braid and lets it drop back down unceremoniously against her chest.
Weaver pulls out an order from Devas for some various goodies, including pies. She turns to Loren, about to ask if he thinks they are for the party, but he’s gone still and his eyes are watery and he seems lost to something he’d found. Gently, she reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder. ”What’d you find?” she asks, voice soft.
Snorting, Loren gave Weaver a rueful smile. "If only more people felt that way." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. When she mentioned her bed, it startled a laugh out of him. "So you live a soft lifestyle, then?" It was clear he was making fun of her.
Raising his eyebrows, he deftly avoided her grab, though neither of them were trying that hard. "Then you get some hair, in exchange for some of your own." He reached up with both hands to force his much shorter hair into a mohawk, before letting go of it, leaving it to fall in an untidy and unattractive looking mess.
At her touch, he flinched a little. Clearing his throat, he picked up the map. "A map. We uh, tried to map Torchline. Spent a whole day on it." He traced one of the lines, biting his lip as he did.
She flashes him a grin and a laugh. ”What can I say? A girl’s gotta enjoy a little luxury now and again.” Which is true enough, even if he was only teasing. She doesn’t mind her ningo feather filled bed, really. It is nice to come home some days and collapse into something soft and kind, rather than the hard and unforgiving landscape of her home.
Her laugh at his antics is a pleasant sound, and her eyes twinkle slightly. As his hair comes to rest in a mess on the top of his head, she reaches up to tossle it more, assuming he doesn’t duck away. ”It’s a good look for you,” she says with a wink, and truthfully, it isn’t half bad. That unkempt, careless look sometimes is a good thing, not that she’s suggesting he adopt it forever.
She lets her hand drop away as he flinches, looking over the map in his hands. A day is not enough time to complete a map, but it’s certainly enough time to spend with someone else that the memory must sting. ”Take it with you. Perhaps one day, you will finish it.”
Shrugging, Loren gave Weaver a wry look. "What can I say? I wouldn't know what luxuries a girl would enjoy." Then his cheeks flushed and he stammered awkwardly, "Not that...I mean...you know what I meant." He took a deep and steadying breath.
Not moving as she messed up his hair further he let out a huff of laughter. "Right. Because it was so bad before anything was an improvement." Tone self-deprecating, he reached up a hand to smooth his hair down a little bit. It didn't actually do much, and he abandoned his attempts at grooming soon enough.
Swallowing, he nodded. "Perhaps." With gentle hands, he rolled it up into a tube, then just held it. Clearing his throat, he glanced over at her. "Find anything?"
She nearly bursts out laughing at his response, though manages to keep herself to a reasonable chuckle. Snicker. Same thing. ”Oh, I am sure you could figure it out. Or be taught,” she says, shrugging. Though the statement is suggestive, her tone is not, given where they stand. Rather, her tone is dismissive, not of him, but simply of the embarrassment. It was kind of cute.
He tries to smooth down his hair though to little avail. It reminds her of Korbin, whose hair is always a mess no matter how hard he tries. ’I’ve told you, you are attractive. The messy hair is just the sort of thing you learn to own.” Like a scar, it just becomes something to flaunt. It is only when you try to hide something that people really notice it. Says the girl who hides the scar on her chest, though it is not out of vanity that she does so. No, she just doesn’t really feel like being reminded about almost dying. It is not the sort of thing she likes to contemplate.
Weaver hands the list of goodies from Devas over. Blackberry pies among other things. ”I am guessing this rather large bakery order is for the party,” she says. It seemed unlikely that Maea planned to eat all that by herself. ”Did the invites have names on them already?” She hadn’t really paid much attention to the pile, but if they did, then they had a location, food, and a guest list. She returns to looking through papers, checking for anything else they might have missed.
Laughing a little uncomfortably Loren shrugged. "I'm a quick study and...let's just say I've had a bit of a crash course recently." Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, he found he couldn't quite meet Weaver's eyes.
At her words, though, he nodded. Then he ruffled his hair again, leaving it tousled and definitely not in an artful way. Still, despite the sad task they'd set themselves to, he flashed her a real and genuine smile. It softened the worry lines that he'd already picked up, actually made him look youthful and his age for once.
It didn't last long. Taking the list, he nodded. "Yeah, the invitations are addressed already. And I suppose you can acquire alcohol easily enough." Hesitating, he gave her a troubled look. "I...might recommend watering it down a bit."
She gives him a look as if trying to suggest he doesn’t need to be embarrassed, though it’s a strange look that probably doesn’t do a great job. Mouth quirked, eyebrows raised, it’s the sort of look you’ll understand only if you understand her, which maybe Loren does. ”Part of your attempt to drown out the pain, or someone special?” she asks, without judgment and just curiosity. Honestly, for his sake, she hopes for the latter, even if that might preclude something more between the two of them. He needs something good.
He tousles his hair again, and she chuckles, her own smile reaching her eyes as his does. ”You are really attractive when you smile like that,” she says with a grin, nudging him slightly with her side. He looks young and happy, even if only for a moment, and she wishes he could feel like that more often too.
She nods. ”Alcohol is easy. I can bring some and see what Raza can spare,” she muses, mind wandering to what Raza might want in return. Weaver didn’t doubt they could work something out. ”I can handle the food and the booze if you want to get those invites out?” It’s a question, letting him trade jobs as he might want, though she suspects he knows who everyone is better than she probably does. After all, the Grounds were his home once, whereas she’s been trapped in Halo.
Clearing his throat, Loren made a show of continuing to look through Maea's papers. It was a transparent excuse not to meet Weaver's all too knowing gaze. "Part of the crash course. Though..." Voice trailing off, he shook his head a bit, cheeks still crimson with embarrassment.
Chuckling awkwardly, he ruffled his hair further, albeit subconsciously this time. "Thanks?" It was clear that the magic was gone, and he shifted his weight from side to side. "You're attractive period. I'll bet you knew that though."
Nodding at the division of labor, he made sure he had all the invitations, along with the map. "Sounds good to me." He took a deep breath. "Now for the hard part. How are we going to get Sunjata there?"
