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!
"Absolutely. I've heard...tales of the Hollowed Grounds and they were not good." Admittedly nothing about how they raised their children, but from everything else Morgan knew about the place, she doubted it could be an area the Grounders excelled in. "Parents that raise a capable hunter must be good - it is a job that takes a lot of bravery."She nodded once.
The promise to water down drinks made her laugh. "Maybe once they're drunk enough you can just serve water. They likely won't notice and it will save you the cost of the liquor." Not that she minded her guards having a good time, as long as it was occasional.
The weapon on Weaver's back was certainly fearsome enough and it soothed some of Morgan's worries - it would be quite the fool that would approach the woman with that threat in the way. The offer brought a light laugh from her. "No one has offered that before. I will keep it in mind."
”Even the Outlander tales seem to be less than ideal,” she says, though the emphasis on ‘less than ideal’ makes it clear she’s understating the situations she’s heard. Both women may have lost their parents young, but still, it was clear they were lucky for what time they did have. ”My older brother took over a lot of my training once we lost our parents, so I suppose he deserves some credit too.” And then of course, she lost him as well, though she’d been much older then.
Weaver chuckles, pleased that Morgan found some humor in all this as well. ”Oh, I definitely can. I admit I’ve spent enough time in bars to know there’s a point at which no one really notices the difference.” It takes a skilled bartender to know how to cut you off without you ever realizing it, and Weaver may have a bit of learning to master that skill.
Morgan’s next response is sort of surprising though. Perhaps it isn’t, if she thinks about it. Morgan has an army at her back already, so what help could she possibly need. Yet, the people of Halo loved their home and they would protect it. ”Well, then let me be the first I suppose. It is my home too, and I am willing to help serve it.”
Morgan looked over to Weaver with a polite interest as she asked: "What Outlander tales have you heard?" Not that she cared that much about the worries of the outsiders that were encroaching on their world, but it was good to know what was happening in the places around you. "What did your older brother do? Was he a hunter as well?"
Weaver agreed to serve her men water after a certain point and she laughed, glad they were at an understanding. "Not that I want to insult your drink. I'm sure it tastes like more than water." She assured Weaver, putting out a placating hand.
The willingness to serve Halo was very welcome indeed and Morgan clapped a hand onto Weaver's shoulder. "Glad to hear it. You may be surprised how quickly the call comes, the way things are going..." Not elaborating more than that she looked off into the distance and shook her head with a sigh.
”Not too many, but a great one about telling kids to fight to the death over a title. Less about parents but definitely some worlds out there that are vastly less tolerant than we are. Which I suppose is really saying something.” It’s not like Caido didn’t have it’s prejudices, though Weaver generally didn’t share them. Still, there were plenty against the Outlanders, against the Ascended, against the Abandoned. ”And he was. Better suited to it than me. A mountain of a man who learned his magic far better and earlier than I did. Not that he needed it to hunt, but it did help.” She missed him more than either of her parents, though she mourns them all.
Weaver chuckles, her smile warm. ”No offense taken. My drinks are stellar, but I don’t want a bunch of drunken guards watching over Halo,” she says with a wink. After all, the more they did, the less she had to do.
Weaver is almost surprised as Morgan clasps her on the shoulder, not quite expecting the gesture, but appreciating it. It does feel very soliderly. ”Is there anything other than Whitebrim I should be worried about?” she asks. Perhaps Morgan couldn’t tell her, but honestly, Weaver would rather know as much as she can. She won’t fret over it, but it will help her be prepared.
Hearing Weaver speak of prejudice, something stiffened a little in Morgan. She knew it would be easy to accuse her of bigotry if she explained her hesitation around the Ascended, considered whether it would be wise to mention this to Weaver now; she had to find a way to work around the offense her words were likely to cause. For the moment she just nodded to show she was listening, pretended she did not feel any different by the end of the stories.
With her mind now occupied, she did not feel much like making jokes about her drunken guards anymore: she only gave a waning smile.
Weaver's final question made her consider telling the woman of the Ascended threat, but for the moment she just closed her mouth and shook her head. "Nothing I can speak of for the moment." With that, she took her hand back and went to pick up her lantern, standing up and holding it to the light to see it as it would be on the night. "I think this is completed, now. Thank you for the conversation." Unless Weaver had anything else to say, she would step away from the table and back into the crowd, plenty to think about.
Weaver is hard to offend. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and Weaver didn’t much care what someone else’s was so long as they didn’t shove it down her throat. She did not hold the same dislike of the Ascended as many others did, though perhaps simply because the first she’d met had given her a luxere in exchange for an easy tour of Halo. Or more likely, because Weaver understands well enough what it is like to be on the receiving end of the quiet distaste that comes with being Abandoned. She has lived through it enough first hand that she tries not to give it out. Not that she didn’t have some reservations about the Ascended or The Voice, but she didn’t have enough of a reason to be truly concerned either. At least, not yet.
Morgan gives her nothing else, though it seems like there is something she wants to say. Weaver does not push it, having just met the Captain anyway. There would be more time and the right place for future conversations, she is sure. As Morgan stands to survey her lantern, Weaver does similarly. She stands, though she doesn’t survey the lantern. She’s made some variation of this so many times, she knows it is done. ”It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain. Until next time.” With that, Weaver gives her a nod and leaves the Captain to return to her day.
