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!
"Grow or die. Halo taught me that," Neron said simply, his voice a quiet echo as he ascended the staircase. He shrugged his shoulders as she spoke about the opinion of Abandoned, his smile audible in his voice as he spoke. "It doesn't surprise me. I daresay we are one of the only places where it isn't at least considered a bit taboo, if not infinitely useful. Either way, the naming convention isn't really important here. We have other things to deal with." Like surviving.
So saying, Neron reached the top of the staircase and unlatched the door, throwing it open into the howling, bitter wind. A sentry point for guardsmen and the Warden alike, there were carefully placed torches kept safe from the gales along the palace walls. Neron led them out and towards the edge, where the cold whipped about them and a soft snow was already falling.
At daylight one might have been able to see all of Halo, but currently only the flickering lights of the Citadel below them were visible, and beyond its walls, the softly glowing endlessness of the Tundra. "Down there is Snowcloak, the city within the Citadel," he said, nodding to the buildings all lit up as if it weren't the dead of night. "It is criminal to let a fire burn out - light and warmth are everything."
Zariah nodded at his words. In a way she agreed. New circumstances required new solutions and mindsets – to a point. ”Then Halo has been a good teacher to you.” she said in a low tone. Perhaps not a kind one, but it was a rare Launceleyn who knew a kind teacher. It simply wasn’t their way. And to hear that it so readily accepted magic users? She couldn’t have been more thrilled – the fact alone made her immediately feel at home in this frozen, desolate wasteland. ”A place after my own heart.” she said lightly.
As she followed him out into the freezing cold, her wild curls whipped about her face. But she made no move to calm them, hazel eyes narrowing only slightly as they gazed out from the lookout point. Her bare legs prickled and reddened from the cold almost immediately, and she held the Ursur fur closer as she looked on the brightly glowing city below and the tundra beyond.
Snow gathered on her hair and lashes, though she seemed not to notice. It really was a captivating sight – an oasis of light and warmth surrounded by the deadly tranquility of the frozen desert; it’s merciless nature matched only by its beauty. ”I should think so, in a place like this.” she remarked quietly. Zariah glanced over at him, a small smile curving her lips. ”It is a remarkable kingdom you have here, Warden.” she said. Kingdom perhaps wasn’t the exact right word, but it didn’t seem terribly far off.
Neron stood, back straight against the freezing cold and the whipping winds, his steel eyes surveying the walls, Snowcloak, the Tundra beyond... not with pride, exactly, but with calculating precision. He made sure the torches on the walls were all lit; he surveyed the little he could see of the snows beyond the Citadel for danger and, finding none, let his shoulders relax a touch. "Then it seems your coming here was good for both of us," he said, nodding and glancing back at her.
"I am no king," he said with the hint of a smile; he was a lawyer, not a royal. Warden suited him fine and let him stick to what he was good at. "Wait until tomorrow and you can see it by day. I would be careful about exploring too far, though, lest people ask questions. I would like to keep the story behind your coming here between the two of us - no need to panic or rile up the people."
Zariah glanced over at him with a raised brow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. ”Good for both of us? It is a rare Launceleyn that is pleased to be in the regular presence of the Family Head.” she said lightly. A light laugh escaped her lips as she looked back out at the town and tundra. ”Though, I suppose you were always a glutton for punishment.” she remarked jokingly. Neron was rather the poster child for masochism, likely developed as a result of the sort of childhood their family inflicted upon their young.
”Then who is?” she asked him, still looking out of the place, committing it to memory as best as possible. ”It seems you’ve all the power of a monarch and you are treated as such. Is there any above you?” she asked, now curious since he felt compelled to clarify his role. Zariah merely nodded as he went on to make requests of her time and adventures. ”I can be inconspicuous if necessary. And you may certainly tell the people whatever you wish about by story of coming here. Whatever will best suit your position here. I am happy to support you however I might.” she said. Certainly she was Head of the Family, but she was no fool either to try and disrupt whatever balance and power he had found for the sake of her vanity.
Neron glanced back at Zariah, a matching smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "We have been scattered to the winds, have we not? I'm not interested in the Family Head any more. But I am glad to see Zariah Launceleyn." Shrugging his shoulders, he turned back to watch the icy world beyond the palace; he purposely said nothing regarding his appetite for punishment. They both knew it was true, it hardly needed stating.
Turning up his collar against a cold he didn't feel, once Zariah had had her fill of gazing across the snows, he turned to lead them back indoors where it was a great deal warmer. "No one is," he said, a touch fiercely, as if proud of that fact. "Something I learned after getting here is that not every place needs a prick with a crown sat on top of it." But that didn't make him any less on top of Halo, he supposed.
"No, there's no one above me. But that doesn't make me a monarch. A place like this needs a guardian, not pomp and parades." He shrugged, holding the door for her and shutting it again once she was inside. Her support, whilst not entirely unexpected, was still appreciated, and Neron dipped his head respectfully as she spoke.
"Thank you. Now - let me show you to a room, that you might dress less as though you just got out of bed."
”Scattered to the winds, but never broken.” she said softly. Even separated by distance or dimensions or time, to be Launceleyn was an identity not so easily lost. They were who they were because of it, not in spite of it. But restructure and renewal might come of it, and she would be glad to welcome it if it helped them regain their deserved status. ”I am glad to see Neron Launceleyn as well.”
She turned to follow him, her heels still echoing against the stone but more muffled against the wind. The warmth of the Citadel was welcomed, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering as she began thaw. A brow raised as she glanced at him, his anti-monarchy undertone a bit surprising. They had been raised to support the monarchy – even if disliked and unworthy – but it seemed this place had allowed his distaste to run free. ”Hence why you are called Warden, and not his Highness.” she observed. In her mind it was still a monarchy – one person making the decisions for all, regardless of their personal wishes or ideologies. But if Neron wanted to think it wasn’t the same because he did not drape himself in jewels and throw fancy tea parties that was his prerogative.
Zariah would follow wherever it was he led, a smirk curving her lips at his words. ”You mean traipsing about in silky nightgowns and fur stoles is not all the rage here? A shame.” she said, jokingly of course.
"I bet you never expected you would say that," Neron drawled as she said she was glad to see him, remembering all too well his lifetime of laziness and withdrawal from family activities. Luckily, Halo did not stand for that sort of behaviour. Not that he still wasn't lazy, he just showed it through delegation of tasks now, rather than sleeping in until noon.
"That's right. Besides, if we are still going by Northaven's standards, there was only one monarchy and it would be near blasphemous to replace it." Here he shot her a mischievous grin, not knowing but guessing at the title she had given herself for the Hollowed Grounds.
They walked swiftly back along the corridors towards the platform, but Neron led them down a few steps this time and off into a side hallway. "Oh, it might well be the rage for a time. But frostbite and chilblains soon put a stop to trends," he said airily, pausing before a pale doorway that might well have been constructed from ice itself (of course it was glass, but the aesthetic was pleasing, frosted that it blocked the view to the inside. A torch burned brightly in a sconce beside it.
"It looks like they worked quickly to accommodate you," Neron murmured, clicking open the door and leading the way into the room. Furnished with the basics - bed, trunk, washbasin, it was elegantly simple. Most importantly, there was a fire roaring away in the hearth. "I trust this will suit the lady?"
Zariah laughed a little, shaking her head at him. "If you recall our earlier conversation, I have memories of events you do not." she said softly, the click of her heel echoing in the hall. She remembered his tact in handling her, his persistence in pursuing her (or really anything he actually wanted, few and far between that may have been), the way his icy calm balanced her fiery nature. There was much she had missed about him, and simply having him near, whether he remembered any of what they had or not, was soothing to her soul.
She chuckled low at his look, a smirk curling her lips. "In some places, I've found, it is near blasphemous to instate it at all." she said. The Hollowed Grounds were a lawless nightmare. Chaotic, disorderly, uncouth, ungrateful - rats and swine and cockroaches had more order to their societies than those who inhabited the grounds.
His quick pace was easily matched. As always, despite the perilous height of her heels she walked with grace and precision, entirely unhindered by what most would find unsuitable footwear for any sort of travel. "Halo, the one place where women's fashion trends factor in reasonable parameters." she said with a light laugh. Comfort was usually secondary to style for women in most places, but this place was proving itself quite unique and rational; something that made her feel quite at home. But they wouldn't be taking her heels any time soon. Oh no. That was a non-starter.
Zariah's head tilted slightly, admiring the door. For a place seemingly barren, beauty was still appreciated in its own way. Perhaps it was not her personal aesthetic, but she could see herself becoming quickly accustomed to the bright white and glassy finish that brought elegance to the cold landscape. "It would not surprise me if they were a bit hesitant to invoke the ire of one who managed to appear suddenly and survive as long as I did in the Fangs. It is a bit ominous." she said lightly, following him into the room. Best keep people who magically appeared in deadly environments and lived to tell the tale happy she supposed. Or they were terrified of Neron. Perhaps both. She glanced around the room, setting aside the fur on the bed as she looked around, one thin strap of her silky dress sliding off her shoulder. It was pleasantly warm already with the fire roaring as it was. Zariah turned back to him, a small smile on her lips. "Indeed it does. Though it would be far more suitable if the gentleman would acquiesce to stay..." she said leadingly, the smile slowly morphing into a smirk.
That was right - she most certainly did. Events and marriages and children, in fact, that he had no grounding for. And that Neron, perhaps, did not exist any more, frozen by the snows of Halo, hardened by the ice in the Citadel. But only time would tell, of course. He let out a small huff of acknowledgement at her talk of monarchies - an almost laugh that was a definitel agreement. "Better off without them, if you ask me. Monarchies are pompous. Guardians are respected." As it was here, at the very least.
He stood just within the doorway, respectful of his fellow Launceleyn's space, but clicking the door shut so as not to let the heat out, not that the cold seemed to have bothered him at all. "Halo," he echoed, "a place where a full set of fingers is preferable to showing a bit of leg." Still, that only went for outside. What the people did in the warmth of their own homes was up to them.
As evidenced before him as Zariah placed her fur down upon the bed, leaving Neron to take in her figure and her beauty, dark and ephemeral as it always had been. Something low stirred in his belly, though the ice around his heart remained resolute. "Another night, perhaps," he murmured, steel gaze warming a touch as he gazed at her. "You have had a long journey, and I have much to do before I can retire myself."
Zariah laughed a bit at his repeated disdain for all that held a crown. "This place wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between a queen, a warden, a mayor, and an emporer." she said, twirling a lock of her hair absentmindedly. "If you ever a chance to see for yourself you will surely wonder how I survived in such a state of disorder." she added with a smirk. Chaos had its place and times of use, but if one thing remained ever the same it was her appreciation for order and hierarchy.
An outright laugh - low and smooth - escaped her lips as he echoed her sentiment about Halo, though taking it to a new extreme. "I someone managed to lose fingers for showing leg I would actually be quite impressed." she said with a smirk.
Her head tilted at him as he declined her offer. She wasn't surprised, but still a touch disappointed. "Another night." she echoed quietly, dropping the qualifier of perhaps purposefully. A word game, a tiny ploy, but one in seriousness - Zariah would not be easily deterred from that which she desired. "Yes, I am certain I interrupted a number of tasks...and I'm sure whoever advises you is keen to know about the half naked woman you have welcomed into the Citadel."
"It sounds positively barbaric," Neron drawled, a smirk curling across his lips. If he ever did deign to find himself in such a place, he'd likely not have time to do much wondering before he turned right around to come back to Halo once more. His world was savage in its own way, glacial and harsh, but there was definitely order here. Chaos caused death, and there had been enough of that before Neron came along.
She caught his slip up and he laughed, genuinely pleased to have someone with whom he could match his wits against again. "Fine, fine," he conceded. "A full set of toes, then." All the while, he moved back to the door so he could bid her goodnight.
"Undoubtedly," he agreed. "And they shall continue to wonder, until I decide to tell them anything." Shrugging, he gave her a respectful bow. "Sleep well, Zariah. If you need anything, you need only call and one of the Citadel workers will see that your request is fulfilled."
Zariah smirked, watching him retreat towards the door. ”Barbaric. A very fitting description.” she agreed, leaning back against the bed. Her eyes remained on him, the barest hint of a smile on her lips as he spoke. ”You as well, Neron. Remember you’re welcome any time.” she said with a tiny smirk and a light purr in her tone. Once he left she made herself comfortable in bed, curled up under the heavy blankets. But it would take time for her to fall asleep, mind spinning and heart wishing she hadn’t let him walk out so easily.
But there was plenty of time. Now he was here, and she wouldn’t let him slip away again.
The next morning she woke early, taking a moment to stoke the fire since she recalled that allowing one to burn out was a crime in this place. Then she poked about her new room, finding clothes more suitable for the weather in the trunk at the foot of the bed. Everything was sturdy and warm, but whoever selected the pieces did have some taste which pleased her. She quickly chose pieces in shades of black and grey, donning some fitted black pants and shirt (which she of course left mostly unbuttoned at the top), and an overlong fur lined vest with the collar raised and a belt tied tight around her trim waist. They had even provided a pair of black, fur-lined boots that had a decent heel on them – shorter and blockier than she would have preferred but it was something at least.
Wild curls kept down around her face, she stepped out of her room, glancing around and seeing no one. Hm. Well. Poking around certainly couldn’t hurt much. She would have to learn to navigate this place on her own eventually anyways. So she decided the head back in the direction of the viewing platform, wondering what and who she might find if she passed it and kept going down the corridor.
Zariah would find none other than the Warden himself, of course. Dressed in his customary black (because nothing could change the habit of a lifetime) and dusted with snow, Neron stepped out of the door up to the viewing platform, having just been up to check in with his guards. On seeing Zariah he couldn't help but falter, even if only slightly - the sight of someone familiar was still a strange one, and he eventually managed a stiff bow and a half smile.
"Good morning," he murmured. "I trust you slept well - I was going to send someone for you in a short while. Are you hungry? I can send someone to fetch you some breakfast, if you'd like."
The gust of cold air that poured in as the door to the viewing deck opened made her pause, face a mask of nothingness as she waited to see who might appear. Much to her luck, it was none other than Neron, hair and shoulders dusted with snow that seemed to be constantly falling outside. His slight falter, only noticed because she watched such things closely, brought a small smirk to her lips. It was quite fun to catch people by surprise, especially those usually so collected as him.
”Good morning, Warden.” she cooed in a near purr, dipping her head and shoulders ever so slightly to him. Under usual circumstances she would never show such fealty to one she considered her equal, but appearances were appearances, and he had many to maintain if he was indeed in charge of this place; and she supposed she had offered to assist him however he needed. ”Only if you’d join me.” she said of his offer of breakfast, shrugging lightly. She didn’t eat very much when she did eat, and breakfast was her least favorite meal of the day and regularly skipped. Zariah glided over to him, heels clicking on the stone. She reached up to gently brush the snow from his shoulders, and even dared a quick brush through his hair – nails skimming over his scalp and careful to ensure it did not destroy whatever style he’d left it in. ”Though, I must admit I am far more interested in whatever reason you had intended to send for me.” she said quietly, dropping her head to the side. ”Idleness is not my natural state as you know.” she added with a smirk.
