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!
04-17-2020, 10:44 PM (This post was last modified: 04-17-2020, 10:45 PM by Morgan.)
If they tell my story
I am either gonna die on the battlefield in glory
Oh, Neron was right to ask for forgiveness for his humour: the smug, glib question only riled Morgan up further, the intensity in her eyes almost burning as she narrowed them to stare at him. "And you don't want to try and improve that? If I asked the people to help me oust you right now, who do you think they would side with, Warden?" She was absolutely getting into dangerous territory now, but she was confident, with her hand on her sword hilt and her connections to Halo, that she would be victorious in any resulting scuffle.
Loyalty was a vague thing to ask for and Morgan began to wonder if Neron was intentionally hiding something from her or if he was just dumb as he continued. "This Voice. She is recruiting people for something. What of that loyalty when she asks you for more? When she asks you to kill? To let her in? To take over--?" Hearing there was a Shrine already in Halo her stomach flipped. "--Already, she has taken a part of Halo."
Morgan was right - she was getting into dangerous territory, and the flintiness in Neron's gaze signalled the fraying of his patience. "They would side with me, Captain," he said, his words smooth and confident. "The man who carved a path for them to explore the world beyond Halo. The man who keeps the fires lit, the walls in good repair, the monsters from the door. The man who put you in the role you find yourself in. Do not forget yourself, Morgan, unless you mean to act on it."
Shaking his head as she spoke of the several what-ifs of the Voice, Neron could only resign himself to their differences. Morgan was too stubborn for anything else. "What about when the Eirachi asked me to kill? To let her encroach further into the Citadel? To freeze you all to death in your beds?" he asked, tilting his head. "All of these are hypotheticals. And one goddess is not more ruthless and calculating than another, just because you prefer her."
Morgan fixed Neron's gaze with her own, just as unrelenting, though she knew when to stop speaking. At least for the moment, she couldn't kick Neron off his throne: in that office though, she began to brew a plan in her mind. She nearly spat when Neron implied she would be anywhere else without him: she was sure with her training, her father, she would have found herself as the Captain regardless of who was Warden. She was the obvious choice.
Standing out of the chair, Morgan looked down at Neron and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something more: then shook her head and stepped away. "You know my thoughts. That was all I had to say." If he was going to be so idiotic as to compare Eirachi and The Voice, she saw no point in continuing this conversation.
Unless Neron would say anything else, she would briskly walk out of the room, frowning heavily ahead and beginning to think things she'd never dared to before.
"Then you have said it, and I have listened. I will act on your suggestions, as we discussed. Good day, Captain." Neron held her gaze and watched as she left the room, the ice slowly beginning to crawl back and away from the walls. Had he breath, it would have clouded the air before them with the drop in temperature, but Neron hardly needed to worry about such things any more.
That did not mean there weren't things to worry about, however, as proven evidently by the actions and attitudes of his captain. Drumming his fingers upon the desk, he glowered at the work still to do beside him, before promptly delving back into it. No rest for the wicked, and Neron certainly was that.
