Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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Loren let out a huff of laughter. "It's my charming personality, right?" That said, he measured out the dough onto another baking tray. Cutting the dough into eight more slices, he slid it into the oven. The first batch was still baking, so he left both in there.
Turning to face her, he dusted off his hands again. "I am well aware." His lips twitched in amusement. "Your brother made that quite clear. Among others." Wiping his hands on a nearby cloth, he tossed it back where he found it.
Grinning at her response, he leaned his hands on a counter. "How would you like another job?" He tilted his head to one side as he waited for her response.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Oh yes,” she says with a chuckle, ”that’s definitely it.” Never mind that half their conversations were Loren telling her of his rather woeful past, though she doesn’t hold it against him. Really, that seems to be all her conversations with the men in her life lately. Some issue or another to deal with for each and every one of them. Damn, she really needs female friends. Maea would have been so much more fun.
At least he knows how his family is viewed. He has a slightly different reputation than the rest of them. He’s the one that actually does stuff, they say, though he’s still part of the family. Sometimes that sort of thing could bite you in the butt, no matter how hard you tried. ”Ah, so you’ve met Korbin,” she says, reaching up to fiddle with her braid. ”I assume I ought to apologize for him. He has not really been himself lately, even to me.” Which is to say, he’s been nothing short of an ass to most everyone.
Her eyebrows shoot up at the next question, though there’s clearly interest there. ”Well that would depend, what sort of job are we talking?” Though she already doubts she is all that likely to say no. Still, a girl needs details.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Snorting, Loren moved to start putting the ingredients back where they belonged. Glancing over at Weaver, he shook his head. "No need to apologize." He put the last of the food away, then began wiping down the counters. "Plus if you start apologizing for Korbin, I need to start apologizing for Neron, and neither of us wants that." Tone wry, he looked up from his work briefly to see how she'd take that.
Then his expression grew more serious. "He told me about what happened to your family." Pausing for a moment, he searched her features. "I'm sorry for everything you've been through. And...and that I was too self-centered to ask about it before." He took a deep breath.
Trying to muster up a smile he resumed his cleanup. "You're an Advocate, right?" It wasn't quite a question. "How would you like to be the new Spymaster?"
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver chuckles, grabbing a rag and helping him to wipe down the counters. It seemed like the least she could do, given that she has otherwise simply been a demanding bum. ”Maybe that’s exactly what I want you to do,” she says, tone light and playful, and it is clear that she does not actually expect that at all. Neron was his own man and could answer for his own lack of action. Well, he could, but that would require action. So never mind, maybe Loren would have to do it for him.
With the counters clean, Weaver pushes herself up so she’s sitting on the counter now, legs swinging slightly in the air as if she has never grown up. In some ways, she has not. ”I could be mad, but I’m not sure it’s really that important. It is my past, not my present. Not that I don’t miss my family, but it has always been harder for Korbin. He was really young when we lost our parents, whereas I have good memories of them. And though I may have been the one who almost died,” she pauses, reaching up to push her braid behind her and tug her shirt down slightly. Beneath it is the tusk-sized scar from the ursur, the skin forever mangled and discolored.
”He burned our older brother without any other family there. Some neighbors helped him. They didn’t wait for me because, well, no one thought I would live. Shouldn’t have, honestly. All I really remember is Korbin’s face. Every time I came to, he was there. Gaunt and worried. That fear never left him.” Honestly, that was the important part. The thing that mattered was the wounds that had not yet managed to close.
Weaver shakes her head slightly at the mention of the Advocates, not denying it, just amused. ”You know, for a secret guild, it is really not that secret.” There was no point in denying it. Her connection to Sunjata was clear enough, and it was unlikely he’d given a bar to a perfect stranger. Her eyebrows raise at the job he offers her though, a bit of surprise on her face. ”Well, it’s about damn time someone asked me,” she says with an impish grin. ”Though I realize you aren’t supposed to be apologizing for your brother, but can I ask, why are you the one asking me and not him?”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Nodding gratefully as Weaver picked up a rag, Loren moved over to give her some space to do so. However, he found himself pointing his own rag at her almost accusingly. "No fair. Neron's got a lot more to apologize for than Korbin does." It was clear that he was kidding too.
Throwing his rag over his shoulder, he crossed his arms as he listened to her words. Softly, at the end of it, he replied. "May they burn brightly." Lowering his arms, he gave her an understanding look. "I offered to let him apprentice with me. And yes, he mentioned he would be most displeased if I did anything to harm you." Hesitating, he bit his lip. "And that you were welcoming all these changes, which he seems to feel are taking you away from him." Tone awkward, he scuffed the floor with his foot.
Grinning at her, he turned to take the first batch of scones out of the oven, carefully wrapping his hands to avoid burns. "Actually, I wasn't sure, but thanks for confirming." Taking the tray out, he set it aside to cool, replacing the rags as he did. "In my defense, I assumed pretty much everyone at the birthday party were Advocates." Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a questioning and challenging look.
Letting out a huff of laughter, he shrugged. "Well I haven't actually asked him yet, but I don't see why he wouldn't agree to it. You're spying anyway, so you might as well be spying for us." Sighing, his expression grew more serious. "As for Neron he's been...indisposed, recently. I've been trying to fill in for him where I can." However, as he ran a hand through his hair, it was clear he was just as annoyed at his brother's lack of leadership.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver laughs, amused. ”Life’s not fair,” she says, flicking the rag at him playfully. ”It’s hardly my fault your brother requires extra apologies.” Though she is still teasing, some part of her feels for him though. It cannot be easy to live in Neron’s shadow and then pick up the pieces when he goes and fucks up. Perhaps this is exactly what Korbin feels like. Maybe they cannot help it, this dynamic of older and younger, always living in each other's orbit in some way.
She nods a silent thanks at his words, a soft smile on her lips to hear him pick up the tradition. For a moment, fire sparks to life in front of her before she lets it fade. ”I am quite impressed at how much he has opened up to you, an Outlander. I assume he’s made his thoughts on that well known,” she says with a wry grin. Though it is actually quite impressive that he’s told Loren so much. Maybe Korbin had a soft spot for the healer as well. A Hale family trait, it seems.
”I hope he takes you up on the offer. He needs to find his own thing in life. I know he feels left behind, but I cannot force him to come with me. And I will not cease to live because he doesn’t want to. I’m not made for that.” It is clear in her tone it bothers her though. She loves her brother, and this is not something she can simply fix for him. Though she wouldn’t, even if she could, because she knows that’s not what their mother would want either.
Weaver chuckles as he thanks her for confirming. ”Did I though?” she asks, her amber eyes mischievous. ”All you know for certain is that I know it exists.” Which is very true, for she had not actually admitted to more. Still, he can assume she is a part of it, and she doesn’t much care. Really, she just will not give him the satisfaction of making it as easy as actually telling him. Where’s the fun in that? ”There’s a reason you are asking me to be your spymaster, after all.” She doesn’t actually answer about the party, because he’s wrong, though she’ll let him figure out who is and is not a part of the guild on his own. Currently, that information is not critical for Halo to know, and she will share selectively, just as she shares selectively with the Advocates.
He continues, and she absentmindedly pulls her braid back into its place over the scar on her chest. She’s been wearing her hair in a bun at the Kraai more, but still, she feels almost naked without the braid in its usual place. ”Ah, well I’m not a Launceleyn, which seems like a prerequisite for running Halo lately.” Though there is Morgan, at least, who is not part of the family. ”And that sounds like a bullshit political answer if I ever heard one. Not that I am blaming you, but the people of Halo don’t really give a rats ass that he’s busy.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Snorting, Loren just shook his head. "One of the many downsides of being related to Neron." Still, he grinned at Weaver.
"That he did." Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he bit his lip. "I um, well...he might owe me a, ah, a life debt." Expression guilty, he gave her an apologetic look.
Tapping his fingers against the counter he finally sighed. "Want my unsolicited advice?" He continued without actually waiting for her response. "Get some help at the bar. Mostly, he feels like if he strikes his own path, he'll be abandoning you, and for some reason doesn't think you can run it alone." Then his tone and expression both softened. "I know. And I think all this needs is time and a little bit of patience."
Rolling his eyes at her, now it was his turn to flick his rag at her. "You spy speak confirmed it. Don't make me actually drag the answer out of you." He waggled his fingers at her suggestively. Simply nodding again at the spymaster comment, he smiled.
Raising his eyebrows, he shook his head. "Not especially. Captain Aristomache is not a Launceleyn, and the High Priestess, Ingrid, who has been scarce of late isn't one either." However, he couldn't help but nod and concede defeat. "Hence me trying to reach outside the family for new council members."
Running a hand through his hair, he found he couldn't quite meet her gaze. "It is a bullshit political answer. But the real answer is not mine to tell." He took a deep breath and finally met her eyes. "You and the rest of Halo will have to ask him yourself." And Neron would have to answer for that, in more ways than one.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver looks at him at the mention of the life debt, something Korbin has also mentioned to her. Men. Seriously. Korbin was upset that a Launceleyn got to call in a debt, and Loren looked like he’d rather crawl out of his own skin. Okay, that’s really dramatic, but you get the point. ”Thank you for watching out for him,” she says, her voice serious for a moment. Because she is grateful that her brother isn’t dead. There’s a lot she can take, but that one might break her. ”As for the life debt, it’s a real custom and you should treat it with respect. However, all that said, it’s not really a big deal. Some people never cash in on them because there’s never a reason to. It’s just that, if there is a reason, you should use it.” Weaver gets the old tradition, and technically, she owes one to Erebor (though clearly she cannot repay it), but she’s not quite as serious as her brother can be about these things.
She nods at the advice he gives, though it’s not really news to her. ”It’s on the list, once we get things settled. I don’t expect him or I to be there all the time, and honestly, I’m about to kick him out of the place just to prove to him I’m not incompetent. You’d really think I let him starve all these years with his little faith.” It grated on her that he didn’t think she was capable of sticking with the bar, or doing what needed to be done. As if she hadn’t kept them fed and alive after Erebor’s death. ”He seems to miss the point that I want him there so he can be there with me. Not to do my dirty work.”
Weaver raises her brow at the finger waggle, pretending to look offended. ”And how do you think you would drag anything out of me?” she asks, voice playful and teasing. He may be practically made of magic and trained to kill, but she was still pretty sure she could hold her own against his attempts. Not that any of it was actually necessary, as she told him most everything. The members of the advocates could remain a mystery for now, though.
”I was not counting Ingrid, given that she seems to have disappeared. If I don’t count her, that is 3 to 1 for the Launceleyn’s. I suppose if I count her for your benefit, 3 to 2. Still outnumbered.” Outnumbered in the wrong direction, if you asked just about any of them. She gives him a curious look at his answer about Neron though. ”See, the thing about being Warden is you lose some right to privacy. I won’t make you tell me, but he ought to be prepared to lose some secrets, particularly those that affect his job here.” The people of Halo have been too busy continuing with their own lives to care much, but she cannot say for sure how long that’ll last.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Loren nodded immediately and without hesitation. "Of course." Giving Weaver an almost abashed smile, he ran a hand through his hair. His expression grew more serious as she explained that the life debt was indeed a custom, confirming what Korbin had told the healer. "Understood."
Actually looking more relaxed now, he gave her a wry look. "Please don't tell me everyone I heal or protect is going to start offering me a life debt now. Big deal or not, I really was just doing my job." However, he knew better than to refuse them now.
Nodding a bit, he smiled faintly. "Family can be tough." His tone indicated just how much of an understatement that was. "I might have mentioned that his company was probably all you really wanted, but I'm not sure he believed me." He shrugged, hoping she wouldn't mind the interference.
As she asked how he'd get any information from her, he just grinned. Turning, he wrapped his hands in cloth and pulled the second set of scones out of the oven. Then he held them above his head. "By denying you your treats." He spoke gravely, as if he was actually punishing her, though his eyes crinkled with amusement.
Nodding again in acknowledgment of her math, he sighed. "I'm not denying that. I'm just saying that it's his place to tell you, not mine." Then he shrugged. "And as you can see, I'm trying to balance out the ratio a bit."
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She chuckles at his discomfort with the life debt. It was stuff like this that would take getting used to, these strange customs that no Halovian would even really think twice about. ”Most aren’t even going to say something to you. They’ll just assume you know it’s a thing and you’ll cash in if you want. But also, if you heal my broken arm I don’t owe you shit. If you jump in front of a beastie for me when I’d otherwise die, I do. If you cure my disease when I’m on my deathbed, I do, but not if you cure it before it feels hopeless.” She doesn’t really know how to explain it. It was just one of those things she understood, and eventually, so would he. Still, she tries her best to make some sense of it for him.
Weaver rolls her eyes slightly, not at Loren, but at Korbin. ”He probably didn’t, but he doesn’t even believe me, so don’t take it personally.” It didn’t bother her that he’d offered advice to Korbin. Honestly, maybe her brother needed to hear some of it from someone other than Weaver. Sometimes it was that third-party source that made the truth sink in, though in this case, Korbin would be offended that the third-party source was an Outlander.
Her grin widens, though she tries to put on a look of being offended as he holds the scones over his head. ”Low blow, Loren,” she says, except that she happens to be on a counter. She pulls herself all the way up and tries to snag one of the scones from the tray, despite the fact they were probably going to burn her fingers. Not the point. The point is only to fight back.
”Yes, it may not be your place, but your brother may need to figure out his very quickly.” The implications are clear enough. He figures it out or who knows what might happen. She is not sure how long the people of Halo will keep not caring. ”There is only so much you can do to make up for him.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
04-22-2020, 08:15 PM (This post was last modified: 04-22-2020, 11:08 PM by Loren.)
The white sheep of the family
As Weaver explained further, Loren took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "So when all hope is lost, then?" He grinned, even if the joke was a bit morbid. "Alright. That's good to know." Pausing, he shifted his weight awkwardly from side to side, expression growing serious. "Did Korbin tell you what happened?" The words came out quietly, since he didn't want to reveal the other man's secrets.
Nodding in acknowledgement of her comment about the advice, he grinned right back at her when she complained about his tactics. "I fight dirty, you should know this." When she reached for a scone, it would scoot just out of her way, pushed there by his telekinesis. If she looked at him, he'd have an entirely too innocent expression on his face.
He did wink at her when she mentioned there was only so much he could do on Neron's behalf. "Challenge accepted." However, his expression did grow more serious. "Look, now is not the right time to be shaking things up. Let's focus on getting everything ready for Deepfrost. When we're stuck in place, we can...see how things go." He sighed, not looking forward to the drama, already dreading more conflicts among people who nominally wanted the same thing: what was best for Halo.
If only they all had the same conception of what that meant.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Yes,” she says. It is a bit morbid, but it’s the easiest way to describe it. When you truly would have died otherwise, when there was no other option, when someone goes well above what you ever expected. She nods at the question. ”He did. First he asked me to go hunting, which was red flag number one. Second he threw the first punch, out of the blue for that matter, which was red flag number two. After that, he told me about the cannibals.” Probably more information then he really needs, but talking to him is always far too easy.
Weaver grins at the mention of fighting dirty. ”Have you met me?” she asks with a wicked little grin. The scone scoots out of place at his magic, and she calls to the air to create a small breeze, pushing the scone back toward her. She reaches out again, trying to snag the scone before he can move it again on her.
She sobers a bit though at Loren’s words. ”I’m suggesting a path that seems less likely to shake things up…” she trails of. Her statement was a warning, not a threat. ”I am rather curious what secrets your brother is keeping from us.” Now she is wary, simply because she does not know what to expect.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Nodding as Weaver revealed she knew what had happened in the Fangs, Loren grimaced. "I was too caught up in the moment to realize exactly what was happening." Shaking his head a bit, he sighed. "How's he doing?" It came out in a quiet voice, but there was a great deal of concern in it.
When she counteracted his telekinesis with her air magic, his eyes narrowed slightly. Then three mice appeared on the tray. Any scone she tried to reach for would be pulled away by them as quickly as he could react.
Searching her features for a moment, he sighed. "Look, I know you have little reason to trust me, or any of us outsiders, but I am asking you to give me, and Neron, just a little bit more time. One more chance."
Pausing, he bit his lip. "And if not, I will help you with this other path." He took a deep breath. "I can assure you that the secrets he is keeping are of a personal nature, not anything to do with Halo." Of course, as Warden, what Neron did impacted Halo. But the healer would not break his brother's confidence.
Much more softly, Loren added, "He has his scars from our family too, no matter how he tries to hide or deny it. His secrets...they're his way of coping with them." It was all the explanation she'd get for now.
She reaches up to twirl the end of her braid as they talk. ”Bad,” she admits. ”Though I don’t just think it’s that, ya know? Though that fucked him up pretty good.” In time, he’d come to terms with it. Things like that got easier, if only slightly, but he would need to come to some peace. That may not be the last life he is forced to take. She hopes it will be, but with things going as they are, it seems possible he will be faced with the task again. She hopes he acts as he did with the cannibal, that he doesn’t freeze or hesitate. To hesitate is to lose.
”Oh, that’s not fair. I can’t hurt such cute little mice.” The air gusts stop, not really strong enough to do anything to the mice anyway most like. Still, she watches them on the tray, knowing they are not quite ‘real’, but she doesn’t want to hurt them all the same. Instead, she drops a hand toward Loren, going for one armpit holding the tray. Maybe he was ticklish….or at the very least, she could distract him.
At the mention of trust though, she meets his gaze. Her amber eyes are so alive, as if the fire inside her can be seen in them. ”Surprisingly, I do trust you Loren. I don’t know about Neron, and definitely not Zariah. But you, yea.” Though she listens as he goes on, forgetting about the scones and dropping to sit on the counter in front of him. Her legs spread slightly, because she is vastly unladylike, with her hands in between, holding the edge of the countertop. She looks very at home in the Palace kitchens, simply because she looks at home most anywhere. ”Are you suggesting what I think you are as an actual option?” She asks, because she cannot quite believe it.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
