Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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Sighing, Loren nodded at Weaver's assessment. "Unfortunately, I don't think either of us are exactly who or what he needs to help him through his right now." Although his tone was wry, he met her gaze squarely. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to try." He let out a huff of laughter, since he was known for his stubborn commitment to hopeless causes.
When she reached over to tickle him, he laughed, because yes, he was very, very ticklish. Fighting not to drop the tray, he shifted the skin of his armpit to that of a honey badger, which had the side effect of making the mice disappear. "You know the deal. Answers for treats." He grinned at her, not at all perturbed by her own underhanded tactics.
Snorting, he shook his head. "No one in their right mind should trust Zariah." However, his expression grew almost grim. "I don't know what you think I'm saying." He took a deep breath. "But what I am saying is that I want what's best for Halo. And if that's not Neron..." Voice trailing off, he looked down, feathers appearing in his hair and fur rippling down his arms, a sign of his troubled mind.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver chuckles at that. ”I’m not so sure you won’t be able to help him,” she says with a knowing, rather sisterly grin. ”He just won’t admit that he might actually not hate you.” Korbin was softer than he’d been acting lately. He loved people, and though he was struggling with this change, she still didn’t think the Outlanders were exactly what he was struggling with. He was struggling with what they represented, but not necessarily them. It’s just that it’s so much easier to blame the obvious newcomers than to face your own inner demons.
Well well, he is ticklish. Her grin turns absolutely devilish at that particularly bit of information, and when the mice disappear another little breeze blows, trying to knock a scone off the tray and toward her. Hell, she’ll eat it off the ground. Five second rule. ”I’ll give you answers if you ask questions I can actually answer,” she adds. Maybe she actually doesn’t know who’s in the guild. Or maybe she does but can’t answer that anyway. It’s not her secret to tell, after all.
She nods at his words, watching pieces of him shift into other things, glimpses of the forms he is able to take. ”We’ll figure it out,” she says softly. They were indeed saying the same thing, but the truth is, it’s not the path she wants to take. That’s a whole lot of unneeded upheaval for her town. Though it is a path she will take, if it seems to be the best one.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Smiling faintly at Weaver's assessment, Loren nodded. "I can live with that." There was still that gentle concern in his voice, but also a great deal of fondness for the angry younger man.
The healer just grinned outright at her response. "Can't? Or won't?" Still, he let her capture a scone, actually catching it with his telekinesis before it hit the ground and holding it in place for her. Setting the tray down on the counter, he busied himself with banking the fire in the oven.
Lips twitching in wry amusement, he just shook his head. "Gods, why does everything always have to be so complicated." He gave her a rueful look to let her know that the question was entirely rhetorical.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
The sound of Loren’s voice, the concern there, melts her heart slightly. As if she needed him to melt it more. Yet, like usual, she finds herself surprised by him. She shouldn’t be, because it is not surprising to know he cares about someone. He loved deeply, she suspected, given how deeply he hurt. She’d seen that firsthand a few times, and she knows it to be true. Still, it surprises her all the same to hear the concern for her brother, and she isn’t sure what to do with that surprise.
”Can’t,” she says with a sing-song in her voice. It’s true enough. She knows who they are, and she could technically utter the names. But that is against the rules, it is something she cannot do if she wants to retain their trust. And even if she is to serve as Halo’s Spymaster, it is in their best interest that she stays in the guild’s good graces. More information to be had if she can run in different circles.
Her grin widens as he catches the scone for her, and her hand darts out to snag it from the air. ”I knew you liked me,” she teases, taking a bite of the scone with some obvious delight. ”Mmm,” she says, taking a moment to chew even if that seems vaguely overrated. ”You might give the chefs a run for their money. That is delicious.” She breaks off a piece and offers it to him while taking another bite for herself. Not that he couldn’t just take his own, but it seems polite to offer.
Weaver chuckles, mouth still slightly full, but she has always lacked manners. Or simply doesn’t care for them, but either way. ”Because if it weren’t, it would be dreadfully boring.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
As Weaver once again refused to let Loren know the identity of the other Advocates, Loren just smirked. "Fine. I'll just have to get the answer from Hotaru or Nate." Tone teasing, he raised his eyebrows at her.
"Nah, I don't like you. I just know how popular you are, and I'm using you to get accepted by the rest of the Halovians." However, his once again fond tone betrayed that for the lie it was. Taking the piece she offered, he nibbled on it happily. "Thanks. I've had to cook for multiple households. I guess it rubbed off on me at some point." He shrugged, not quite sure when exactly he'd developed the skill.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Is it bad if I say I wouldn't mind a bit of boredom?" He gave her a chagrined and rueful smile.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She simply skips over his statement about Hotaru and Nate. Honestly the members of the guild, for the most part, are all so new that they barely know more than one another’s names. Nate’s a decent enough guess, though Maea hadn’t been part of the guild. Not everyone Sunjata dated was, though, she had known about it.
Instead, Weaver moves on to the topic of her popularity, and she laughs outright. ”How’s that working out for you?” she says with a teasing grin. ”Because I am rather more infamous for being a pile of trouble than I am anything else. Are you sure that’s the reputation you want?” To be fair, she was popular with the people of Halo, but much of that was her history more than anything else. She was also absolutely known for being a pile of trouble. Very pretty trouble, but trouble all the same.
”You’ve done a whole lot of things for being not that old, as far as I can tell. Unless you are also immortal. Where exactly do you find all this time, Loren?” All the training with his family, sleeping on rocks, baking, sewing, cooking for families. Where did the list of things he’d done end?
She shakes her head, sighing slightly. ”No. I think we all wouldn’t mind it. Except I suspect that if life were too simple, we’d find a way to make it complicated anyway.” In the end, they were their own worst enemy.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Loren just laughed outright at Weaver's question. "It's working out pretty well so far." Lips twitching in amusement, he picked up another scone for himself. "Considering my current reputation seems to be 'who the fuck do these outsiders think they are,' pretty much everything is uphill from here." However, his tone was amused, not annoyed.
Taking a bite, he chewed and swallowed before responding to her. "If I say that I never sleep, is that bad?" Shrugging, he ran his free hand through his hair. "Say what you will about my family, and I do mean that, but I drove myself very, very hard to make myself perfect in everything I found myself having to do." However, despite his attempt at humor, he found himself smiling a bit sadly.
As she mentioned people's propensity to complicate things, he nodded reluctantly in agreement. Then he gave her a rueful smile. "You know, Frey asked me what my aspirations were." Letting out a huff of laughter, he shook his head. "I told them I wanted to do right by the people of Halo and start a family. Pretty humble goals, if you ask me."
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver takes a bite of her scone, stifling a laugh and trying not to accidentally spit it out as he responds. ”You can’t say funny things when I’m eating delicious scones.” She finishes her bite and swallows before continuing. ”I do suppose being a pile of trouble is at least better than ‘who the fuck are you’? Though it may still get you thrown out of Halo.” Though her tone is light and teasing, because really, she does not think Loren is in danger of being thrown out of Halo. As far as she is aware, he’s reasonably well liked for being an Outlander and a Launceleyn.
”You’re the healer, you tell me. Though as far as I am aware, sleep is rather necessary to life.” To be fair, she enjoys sleep. Enjoys the luxury of it, for it has been one of the few luxuries in her life. She also enjoys waking up beside someone else, though for her, it’d been familial rather than eros love. There were nights after her parents died she’d crawl into Erebor’s bed and just cry. Korbin never knew. She’d fall asleep there, overwhelmed, with her mountain of a brother to hold her together. There were nights Korbin was the one to crawl into her bed, and she’d hold him together. After Erebor died, there’d been no one to keep her from falling into pieces, and so she’d learned to hold herself together, to live with the pain. ”I can see that,” she replies, perhaps a beat too late, her mind still stuck in a piece of her past she’d nearly forgotten. One that perhaps she wanted to forget.
As he mentions Frey, she drags herself back to the present, and the smile on her face at his words is a soft and genuine thing. ”I do not think those are humble goals. They are very big goals, in fact. To do right by a whole people, who are not even your people. At least not yet. To raise a family. To shape little lives into something and someone.” They were perhaps not unlike her goals, and her mind skips to ideas that she quickly smothers. ”They are very good goals.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Loren just smirked at Weaver's comment. "Can't I?" However, his expression grew more serious as she went on. "I suppose that's true. Guess I'll just have to endeavor to be more troublesome and less of a stranger." He let out a huff of laughter, though he wasn't entirely joking.
"In that case, I say it's not bad." Despite his best efforts to make it into a quip, he didn't quite succeed. "Full disclosure, I don't sleep well even on good nights." He pressed his lips together, trying not to think too hard about the nightmares that plagued him, especially on the nights he spent alone. Simply nodding at her words, he forced his features into a happier expression.
But his eyes betrayed him.
As she commented on his goals, he shook his head. "Yeah, I know. Hubris was always my downfall." Grinning ruefully, he took another bite from his scone. "How about you? You got any crazy dreams?"
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Not unless you want half chewed food in your face,” she says, poking him in the chest lightly. ”You have been warned.” She stuffs another bite of scone into her mouth with a grin, as if in challenge, and begins to chew it. ”So long as you don’t overshadow my perfectly crafted reputation, I will let you steal from my limelight.” It’s a joke in the way his statement was a joke; mostly.
She can hear the lack of humor in his next joke though, and it’s followed quickly by the truth his humor did not hide so well. ”Why disclose that to me? It seems like something Sam perhaps ought to know though, if you are going to be disturbing him.” Her tone is light, and slightly teasing, though there’s something soft and serious in her eyes. ”Time may help.” Though she offers a slight shrug as she says it, uncertain if it will. Perhaps though. Perhaps time and the right roof over his head, the right person beside him.
She leans back, propping herself up with her non-scone hand, those amber eyes studying his, and the pain still there. She’d take it away, if she could. ”No, not particularly. Run my bar, not get killed, survive my brother’s teenage crisis,” she says with a playful grin, even if all that is true. One leg, and then the other, swings beneath her, boots bouncing lightly against the counter. ”Do what I can to help Halo. Maybe a family, someday, though I am not sure I trust this world enough to raise children in it.” And there’s something in her voice that betrays the fear of the idea. The fear that her kids would end up as she and Korbin had.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Loren just snorted at Weaver's 'threat.' "I think I can survive that." Taking another bite as well, he made sure to smile before grinning at her. "I think your reputation will be okay. People would probably just shake their heads about the outsider corrupting a nice Halovian girl like you." His tone was wickedly teasing.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "No reason to disclose anything to Sam seeing as we're not seeing each other anymore." Although he sounded a bit sad about that, it was clear he wasn't too beat up.
At her comment, he nodded. "It might. So does company and alcohol, but don't worry, I'm not going to spiral again." Giving her a rueful grin, he turned to go get a container for the rest of the scones.
As he put them away, and prepared his gift for Ludo, he shot her an almost shy smile. "Gods help all of us survive Korbin's teenage years." Letting out a huff of laughter, he finished up with his scones
Then he hopped up to sit on the counter across from her. "Those are very big goals, indeed." Expression softening, he brushed some hair from his forehead. "For what it's worth, I think you'd make an excellent parent." He shook his head a bit. "You're already good at putting up with my bullshit, after all."
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
Weaver nearly spews the scone this time for real, and her hand flies to her mouth as she sputters a laugh. ”A nice Halovian girl like me?” she says after she swallows, still laughing at that notion. ”I carry a scythe. I am highly likely to pick a fight because it’s fun. I am one of the least lady-like ladies you will ever meet. A nice girl?” She snickers some more. Though of course, she was exactly what she needed to be to survive Halo. Most of the men here didn’t mind a girl who knew how to wield a weapon or throw a punch. They certainly didn’t expect their women to wear dresses.
He mentions that him and Sam are no longer a thing. Well, that was perhaps shorter than expected. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound too upset about it. Sad, sure, but who wouldn’t be a little bit? ”Ah, I am sorry it didn’t work out,” she says, and she does mean it. ”Though I admit, I am perhaps not as sorry as I should be.” She also means that.
He turns, though she stays perched on the countertop, largely useless. A child in a candy shop, really. ”It seems to me you don’t want to spiral again, and so you won’t. A little booze does work wonders though.”
Weaver just laughs at that. ”We will need all the help we can get.” Suddenly, she realizes they are talking about Korbin like his parents might. It would feel weird, except she often talks about Korbin as Straia might have, and rather than find it weird that Loren is chiming in, she is thankful for the help. Thankful that Korbin may actually have another man in his life. He certainly needed it.
He comes to sit beside her, and she nudges him slightly. ”Your bullshit is easy. And mostly I’m just afraid of what happens if I die. If their father dies. I know that story, and it sucks. But I also know that’s not much of a way to live, afraid of what could happen.” One hand fidgets with the hilt of a knife as she talks, though there is something sad in her voice.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Grinning unrepentantly at Weaver, Loren nodded. "Exactly. A nice Halovian girl." Although he was teasing her, she did indeed seem well suited to this frozen land.
Shrugging, he just nibbled around the edges of his scone. "Me too, but not that sorry." Sighing, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "If I'm being honest, I don't think it was ever going to work out long term. We have lives in completely different places." Glancing aside, he bit his lip.
However, his eyes snapped back to her at her next comment. Raising his eyebrows, he smiled slowly and maybe a bit self-satisfied at her. "Is that so?" Letting out a huff of laughter, he gave her a searching look. "Worried he might steal me away?" Although his tone was joking, there was a question lurking in his eyes.
Nodding, he let out a huff of laughter. "You've seen me have a bit of booze since then. I took care of myself just fine." Grinning, he nodded slowly. "But you're right. It does wonders, and can definitely take the edge off." He found his eyes drifting to the pot of mulled alcohol that was always available in the kitchen of the Palace.
Smiling at her comment about Korbin, the healer couldn't help but laugh when she mentioned he wasn't so bad. "From your mouth to the gods' ears." Shaking his head a bit, his expression grew understanding and sympathetic as she continued speaking.
Looking down, he picked at a bit of stray thread on his pants. "You never struck me as someone who avoided something just because you were afraid. Quite the opposite." His lips twitched in wry amusement. "And I mean that as a compliment."
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She nods, finally relenting. ”I really can’t argue that,” she says with a grin. It is true, she is a very nice Halovian girl. Born and bred to survive in the icy, hard Tundra with a hard, but far less icy, people.
He speaks of their different lives, his and Sam’s, and she nods again, remembering that particular protest when Loren had first mentioned the bookstore owner. ”Sometimes things only need to be fun for a time,” she says. Though sometimes there is a hope for more, and she can understand that as well. There is something to be said for connection, after all, which comes with time together. Hadn’t she said as much to Loren, the first time they met?
Her grins grows, something lurking within it. ”Perhaps I just want more scones,” she says, waving the little that is left of her current one toward him. ”Or perhaps I have grown used to you.” Her grin turns sly, and she leans slightly closer to him, voice just a bit lower. ”Perhaps I am just not sorry that you are free to kiss.” She has not forgotten their first meeting, after all. How she’d asked if there’d be more. How he’d said he’d hoped so. Perhaps it had been the booze talking, perhaps not.
The topic changes to drinking, and though perhaps they will not drink as they had the first night, she doesn’t mind that. Getting drunk is rarely the goal. ”Well now we have rather good booze to drink. I am not too bad as a bartender, if I do say so myself.” The right mix of alcohols, a little added flavor, and you had something nearly as good as chocolate. She watches as his eyes drift toward a pot, and she nods at it, half a question in her eyes.
”I am not,” she says, not saying it in a way that is meant to brag, but simply to confirm his point. ”That is perhaps the only thing where I do. It is one thing to be afraid for myself and to ignore it. It is another to affect little lives that have no say.” Though still, she has never hated the idea of having her own family. It has always been a possible future, though not a certain one. Then again, very little ever felt certain.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
