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!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
For the first time in a week, it was not snowing. The sky was high and clear, and the temperature had plummeted to something close to unbearable, even for the natives. But Korbin gladly faced down the cold for the spectacular view he got from up on high, with the horizon laid out vast and unbroken before him. It was the perfect weather for flying, just enough of a breeze to make it interesting... it really was too bad that he wasn't out here to play.
Cocking his raven head aside, he followed the path of the luxere tracks for as long as he could see, then angled a wing to begin a gradual descent. The urge to dive and swoop in daring angles was there, and he couldn't quite keep from giving in to it as he came down towards his companion. His speed was a touch too fast as he darted down, and he banked just inches away from Noah's head, with a raucous caw that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Herd's turning west. Getting a bit too close to Whitebrim for comfort," he reported, with a tone that was too cheery for what he had to say. "What do you wanna do?" Dark wings carried him in lazy circles around the other as he spoke, looking rather carefree. Like he wasn't coaxed out to hunt in his sister's place, with her being stuck at the new bar.
The snow was giving them a break, and Noah knew he needed to move. Ezekiel was on a trading trip to Torchline, hoping to get enough supplies before the Deepfrost set in. So, before the sun rose over the horizon, he was knocked on the Hale's door. Weaver had other duties to fulfill now that she was running the Kraai, and so he drug Korbin out. The younger Hale was no second seat replacement: he held his own out on the tundra. Noah knew that, and he trusted him.
The cold wind whipped at Noah's hair, as unruly locks jutted out from beneath his hood and tightly wound scarf. He crouched, ready with an arrow already notched. Korbin moved ahead, flying high and watching the herd move. In Whitebrim it would not be wise for him to be in his animal shift. A reindeer in these parts was easy picking for the hunters here. Even human form was dangerous, but at least he had more ability to fight back if needed.
As Korbin swooped down Noah shook his head, swatting towards him with a jesting glint in his eye. Korbin and Ezekiel were more alike than the two of them would probably admit, but they both had a way of lightening Noah's serious moods. A frown cast away the jesting glint, however, when Korbin revealed the way the herd was choosing to traverse. 'We might have to try.' Was the prize worth what might come for them? You never knew in Halo.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
The raven deftly dodged the swatting hand and cawed again, another jesting laugh. He could have stayed aloft for days, but it would be difficult to get any hunting done as a bird. Reluctantly, Korbin dropped down and shifted, still in mid air. Landing on light feet in the snow, he straightened up and casually adjusted his clothes. All innocense, like he'd done nothing.
"Alright. Gotta be careful though, they've been more active than usual lately, you know that." He went to retrieve his gear, the backpack and weapons he'd left with Noah. Shouldering the pack, he kept his bow in hand as he started off along the trail, one arrow carried in hand while the rest remained in the quiver. "Any news from Zek? He's been gone for a while now."
Korbin wasn't thrilled about continuing. His last encounter with a cannibal was too fresh in mind, the feeling of a man dying by his hand still reverberating in his very bones. But he would keep going, if not for his own sake then because he knew there were others who needed the meat. Noah's family, others too. And the Kraai was devouring resources too, more so than he'd expected.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
The older man couldn't help but continue to frown. It would be lie to say that the idea of running into some of Halo's less than desirable inhabitants did not frighten him a little. He knew people were going missing more now than before. The outcasts, the cannibals, were more active than they had been in a long time. Noah had never had an encounter up close, and he was lucky to have been able to sneak away when he had detected them. He swallowed, hard, hoping that today would be safe for them.
Fearful or not, they had to try. Deepfrost was nearly upon them, and if they had the ability to lessen the deaths due to starvation, Noah would.
He moved along the trail, surprisingly quiet for his size. His eyes moved along the terrain, keen and sharp. He followed the tracks as they continued west. He wanted to sigh at Korbin's question, to let his shoulders drop and to just expel the heavy feeling on his chest to the younger Hale, but he refrained. "No. I am expecting him back in a day or two, though." He was hopeful that his brother would return with a full stock from trades, but Noah also knew there was dangers in Torchline.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
A quiet hand went out to rest on Noah's shoulder for a brief moment. Quiet understanding, shared worry for someone gone far away to a dangerous place... Korbin knew it all too well, what with Weaver's frequent sojourns to the outlands. That damned portal. It was good for trade and trouble, and nothing else.
"I'm sure he's fine," he replied, eyes never leaving the surrounding landscape. Oh, he was more than capable of talking and working at the same time. Of letting his tongue run wild while scouring the vista for signs of danger, whether it be animals, storms or something more sinister. But the landscape was empty, only the fresh Luxere tracks to show them the way.
Towards danger.
For once though, Korbin left the matter at that, and withdrew into himself as he walked. There was much that could be said, but what was the point? Whining about things he couldn't change was what children did, and he'd stopped being a kid a long time ago.
A flicker of movement on the horizon made him throw up his hand in warning. Flickering a few quick signals to Noah - movement, caution, get down - Korbin dropped into the snow and peered sharply ahead. Not sure if it was a stray animal or... He preferred not to finish that thought.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Noah was thankful for Korbin's reassurance and solidarity, even if he did not verbally express it. It wasn't that he couldn't express it, but it just was not necessary in this moment. The two of them had been around each other long enough to know that, as well as how to interact with as few words as possible. Hunting was not a time for deep and heavy conversations. Even if they had not been on a hunt, Noah probably would not have given Korbin words to express his thankfulness. Noah, in fact, often was able to express his emotions verbally better than the typical guy. But, he did not always need to.
The Olson's reaction to the hand signals and the alert Korbin displayed was seamless. Instantly, Noah dropped his center of gravity and made his body smaller. Hi grip on his bow tightened, and his eyes searched for what Korbin pointed out. He did not know what it was, but he couldn't help the adrenaline that started to course through his veins. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his muscles tightened. His mind raced with what needed to happen, and how he would react depending on what that movement was on the horizon.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
His mouth had gone dry in an instant. With all his focus on the moving spot up ahead, his thoughts slowed to a halt, leaving behind everything that did not belong in the present. Korbin threw a quick glance to the sky, measuring the position of the sun; it was ahead of them. Good. No need to conceal their breath by shoving snow into the mouth. The figure was silhouetted though, difficult to see properly. He longed to turn raven and have a closer look, but wouldn't leave Noah alone.
The moments crept by. For a time, the figure seemed motionless, frozen in place. Then it moved, and he felt his gut tighten, roil with tension and adrenaline. It was too small for an ursur. Not wide enough for a luxere. And there was only one; not a wolf.
It moved closer. And Korbin had to bite back a curse; it was a person. Man or woman was too far off to tell, and it didn't matter. Out here a solitary person in the snow usually meant only one thing.
"Exile," he breathed. Preferring the term over 'cannibal', because really. He was naive enough to hope that not everyone thrown out of the Citadel would resort to such barbarism.
Korbin threw a quick glance at Noah. Asking what to do. This was his hunt, his expedition. He called the shots.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Every heartbeat pounded in his ears as the minutes passed. As Korbin breathed out what Noah had suspected, but hoped against, he nodded. There was an exile -- surely a cannibal, a devil -- cresting the horizon. The likelihood of the man being amiable towards them was a negative number -- after all, there were only a few reasons people got exiled from Halo before Neron arrived. The older man contemplated for a moment to command the boy to shift and fly away, and for him to follow suit on his own, but Noah knew that would only keep Korbin safe. Noah would not be able to escape as a reindeer undetected at this point, and he knew that seeing that as an option for meat would be a delight for the stranger.
Noah closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out steadily and slowly. Opening his eyes, he lifted just slightly to look out where the exile was. Alone. He breathed out again, controlling every fiber in his body. He made eye contact with Korbin, steely and cold. His hardened jaw and tight brow gave only one command: stay down. Noah lifted his body up, sturdy legs a strong foundation beneath him. He lifted his bow, arrow already notched. He drew. He breathed.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
Similar thoughts ran through Korbin's head. Calculating risk and reward, weighing the dangers of pressing on to the ones of returning without more meat. Possible risk now, or starvation later? And the callousness of it would never cease to drag on his soul. Here they were, contemplating the worth of a man's life against their own, sighting it down along the shaft of an arrow without even knowing for certain that there was a threat.
Except... except Korbin knew. He knew what the exiles were, what they did. Knew Noah didn't aim that arrow lightly, or easily. Knew, with a dread certainty that if Noah hadn't, he would have done so himself, after seeing what he saw on the Tundra that day. When he'd killed someone himself, for the first time.
So he just gritted his teeth when given the sign to stay down. Knocked his own arrow and turned his attention to their backs, to the sides, wary of more danger lurking in the snow. Anything could hide among the white dunes, any number of exiles. Of cannibals.
The twang of the arrow let loose made the hair of his neck stand up. There was a nauseating thunk and a male scream as the projectile burrowed deep into the exile's shoulder. Korbin threw a quick glance to see the figure come staggering towards them, then forced himself to resume his own task.
Keep watch. Protect their backs. A sound that didn't belong to either them or the wounded man reached him then, and Korbin tensed, ready to spring into action.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
If you had asked Noah what his ideal day of hunting was, this would not be it. It was his decision to go further after the herd, and he would take responsibility for it. He would not let any harm befall Korbin. Noah grit his teeth as his arrow flew, and the familiar thunk of arrowhead into flesh made a shiver run down his spine. The experienced hunter had another arrow pulled and notched, aimed and fired, before the man could get close enough to them. His first shot was only a wounding shot, but his second dropped him. Straight through the eye. Noah's stomach turned.
The sound that Korbin heard was a woman. A small woman, probably young. She crouched near the now-dead man, shaking his body furiously. A scream left her lips before she got up and turned to run. Noah held his breath for a moment, but it was clear that she was running away. "We need to go," Noah said, reaching for Korbin's arm and taking off in the way they had come. He did not look back.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
Korbin was on his feet the moment Noah reached for him. It took no convincing to make him run. It struck him that perhaps this is what they should have done in the first place, but... it was too late now. A man was dead, their cover blown, and the wail of grief would ring in his ears for many seasons to come.
Mostly, his concern was for Noah. The young raven made sure to keep close, and occasionally threw a glance at the older man to make sure he was still keeping up, still on his feet. Not that he was actually worried, but... killing a man was different from laying down a luxere, or an ursur. Or any other animal. The weight of it was different - he knew that all too well. Had been in the same situation, all too recently.
Korbin led the way at a brisk jog until they were beyond the reach of Whitebrim's residents. Finding a spot where the tundra broke up into rockier terrain, he guided them into a crevasse that lent some shelter from the wind, and motioned for Noah to stop. Breathing hard, he took a moment to get his heart down to a more sane pace, and turned back to his friend.
"You okay?" he asked, voice tight and hoarse with pent up emotion. It was a stupid question - of course he wasn't - but in the moment, Korbin couldn't think of anything more clever to say.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
All Noah could think about was running. He gripped his bow tight, arms pumping and pushing to keep him moving with Korbin. He let the younger man pull him into the safety and solace of the crevasse. Noah was out of breath. His face was pale. He had killed a man. He dropped his bow and used his arms to hold him up against a rock. He could not hear Korbin as he spoke, but the answer to his question was obvious.
Noah was a hunter. He understood what it was like to take the life of an animal, to use all of it to survive. He understood death. The sound of his arrow sinking deep into flesh was so familiar in his ears. But, somehow, the sound he remembered now was different. There was weight behind it, the thunk so heavy it made his knees shake. The wail that followed--the visceral, deep, sorrowful wail would haunt him. The older man shuddered, his stomach churning.
He did not look at Korbin, but he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, but instead of words, vomit propelled into the snow at the base of the rock wall he held himself up against.
And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed,
There wasn't much he could do really, except stay there. Korbin reached out to wrap an arm around Noah's shoulders. It bothered him to see the normally so stoic and put-together hunter cave to emotions like this, but at the same time he also understood the feeling of wanting to throw up. He'd been much the same... except, as was his custom, Korbin just held it all in.
"I've got you," he murmured quietly. "I know. Had to do it myself a few days ago... It's messed up, but there was no choice, Noah. You kept us safe. Both of us. We will go home to our families today."
He didn't think it mattered much what he said. It just seemed important to fill the silence. Give the man something else to think about, if that's what he needed to get his feet back under himself. The sour stench of vomit filled the cold air, and cautiously Korbin kicked some snow over it, to prevent the odor from spreading.
The last thing they needed right now was an Ursur on top of everything else. Though granted, it would solve their lack of game to bring home...
Nah. Never mind.
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Noah Olson was a man that was always willing to do what needed to be done in the service of others. He knew, deep in his gut, that his reaction was right. The knowing, however, did not stop the overwhelming emotion behind that needed to be done. Noah, a man who often only had two modes--amiable or stoic--was here, in the sight of someone else he trusted, falling to the depths of his own feelings.
He breathed in. He breathed out.
"You're right." He responded simply. As the younger Halovian kicked snow over the remnants of Noah's stomach, he straightened up. Rolling his shoulders back he cleared his throat and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. He turned back to Korbin, his face set like stone. "You killed one too?" He asked, taking a step back slightly to lean against the opposite stone wall. He eyed the other man up and down some. "What did you do afterwards?" He didn't know how to ask, truly, but the question was really meant to ask how Korbin dealt with the churn of emotion.
