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!
”Because if it was fire resistant you might be less mad about the luxure?” she says, half statement, half question, with a shrug. ”Or maybe I just like the idea of a totally magical forest. We may have magic in Halo, but the land is not magical. It’s just a wasteland.” She has been in the Greatwood only a few times, but there certainly was magic there. She just didn’t know how deep it ran in the forest itself.
She listens to the list of boring creatures, a little displeased at the other woman’s response. Weaver had been honest and given good answers, and the Fae skirts around them. Not that she should be surprised, for it fits the bill for everything Weaver has ever heard about the Fae, but maybe she’d hope to be proved wrong. ”Those are very boring animals for a not so boring place,” she says bluntly, and it is obvious she knows there’s information being omitted.
Alina scoffed at Weaver's suggestion. "So if you were fire resistant and I tried to set you on fire you'd say 'no biggie'?" Clearly the Fae doubted that the her fellow huntress would be so understanding about such an occurrence. Shaking her head, she snorted. "Wish I could say that I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not."
Narrowing her eyes, she stamped the butt of her spear on the snow then ground it into the earth slightly. "I'm not really sure what gave you the impression that the Greatwood was magical, or anything other than a boring forest." Her tone was derisive, and she found herself lifting off the ground, growing tired of this conversation.
”That depends,” she says, unphased. ”Did you try to set me on fire on purpose or by accident?” Because it is unclear if the luxure was an accident or on purpose. It is unclear if it was someone from Halo or a meddling god or hell, someone from the Grounds. There are no details to support being pissed off about it, though she can understand being wary. Granted, the Fae seemed to be a very wary sort of people all the time.
Alina seems rather perturbed at the idea of Weaver thinking of the Greatwood as magical, and her eyes narrow just slightly, wondering if she’s actually struck a truth. ”Stories, mostly. I hear the Greatwood turns you around and spits you back out unless you belong. People say the trees move. It certainly sounds magical.” She shrugs, returning to her casual indifference. Clearly Alina was not going to divulge even basic information.
”Just a suggestion, though. When you are the stranger in someone else’s land, it might be prudent to be a bit nicer. Not everyone is as tolerant as I am.” The people of Halo were generally kind, but they were a hard people from the life they lived, and many of them would not tolerate the attitude of this particular Fae, or a spear pointing in their face.
Alina just continued to scowl at Weaver. "The damage from the fire is the same regardless of how it happened." It was clear the Fae wasn't impressed with her fellow huntress' analysis of the situation, and would not be convinced by the other woman's view.
Indeed, Alina seemed more determined than ever. "Stories? They certainly sound fanciful." Skirting the truth was tough, but she had lots of experience with it.
At Weaver's 'advice,' the Fae scoffed. "Funny thing, you lecturing me on that. Perhaps if all the outsiders thought as you did, the Fae wouldn't have a problem with them traipsing through the Greatwood." Her voice practically dripped with sarcasm.
Then she leveled her spear at her fellow huntress. "They don't." It came out bluntly, a warning and a threat all at one. However, the Fae turned to start marching back towards the road she'd come down.
The other woman scowls, but Weaver’s face stays mostly impassive. ”But my attitude is not. If you throw a fireball at me I’m going to be far more pissed off than if you accidentally sat a candle down too close to my shirt.” There is a hint of annoyance in her voice, but only a hit. This must be what her brother feels like talking to her sometimes. The idea softens her slightly.
Though as the Fae professes how funny it is, Weaver does actually roll her eyes. A piece of the fire comes to her hand, and she lets it weave through her fingers. The gesture is not threatening, but it does make a point. ”Funny indeed, from the one who is the outsider acting like what she hates.” To Weaver’s credit, she has only been in the Greatwood twice. Once for the festival they were invited to, and once to meet Sunjata. She only goes when she needs to, and she doesn’t go looking for their village or anything else that she doesn’t have a right to. She’s respectful, which is pretty rare for her.
”Do you know where you are going?” Weaver calls after the Faes back. ”If you end up in Whitebrim, they will consider you a snack.” Which maybe wouldn’t be the worst thing, but still, Weaver isn’t that awful.
Alina just shrugged. "You're allowed to react however you please." The implication being that she, too, was well within her rights to be hostile and brusque if she wanted.
Scoffing at Weaver's accusation, the Fae levered her spear at her fellow huntress, though again to make a point and not to be threatening. "Have I disrespected the sanctity of your land or any of your traditions?" Alina's voice rang out with a clear challenge, and she stared at the other woman almost expectantly.
"The same way I came. And nothing is going to make a snack out of me." Although the Fae was maybe a little too sure of that, she also knew she could fly away from any danger. She made no move to face Weaver.
She sighs, unable to help herself. It was as if the entire point of the conversation had been missed, but she cannot be bothered to continue to argue. She’d met less obnoxious fae before, and it seemed she’d get her harmless information from them. It wasn't like she was asking for their deepest secrets here. Just a little magic, a little light, in a dark world.
”The sanctity of my frozen wasteland, no? You’re just making it very hard to be a decent host, which we do pride ourselves on here.” At least, most of them did. You’d find good hospitality in the Citadel. Not that everyone was perfect, but they had little to offer besides warm food and a fire to those that came knocking.
Weaver shrugs, turning back to the fire. Erebor, you’d be far better at this than me, she thinks, refraining from talking aloud. ”Well, I’ve done what I can then.” If the fae didn’t want any help, Weaver was fine to let her go. She did have the perk of wings, but still, Weaver had at least given her the warning. ”Best of luck in whatever it is you’ve come here to do.”
Alina just shrugged, clearly not bothered by Weaver's words. "Did I ask for you to host me? And how is it my problem that you are having trouble hosting?" It was clear that the Fae wasn't particularly impressed by her fellow huntress' arguments.
Turning around, Alina once again made her way back into the snow and the cold. "Thank you. For your time and your information." It came out curtly, and she didn't look back.
Given the snow that seemed ever present in this frozen land, it didn't take long for the other woman to disappear from sight. When she did, the Fae slowed, eyes and ears alert for any sign of danger. Nothing jumped out at her, but she wouldn't let down her guard until she was back home.
Weaver lets her go without another word. Alina reminded her of talking to a brick wall, if she was being honest. The fae simply wanted to be stubborn. Remind you of someone? says her brother’s voice in her head. She always wonders if that is really what he would have sounded like, or if her recollection has changed him, shaped him into something slightly different.
Weaver lets the small bit of flame around her hand drift back to the fire. ”It’d be better if you were here,” she says quietly to the fire. He would have handled all of this better. Korbin and his sour mood. Weaver and her short fuse. He’d been their rock, and without him, she felt like the Hale siblings had drifted out to sea without an anchor.
Eventually, Weaver smothers the fire with some snow and magic, collects her things, and makes her way back to the Citadel. No amount of mourning would bring him back.
