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!
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
It still doesn’t feel real, this place. The Kraai feels like a dream she never dared to dream, like a hope she never dared to hope. Fear lingers in the back of her mind, like she might wake up at any moment to find that nothing at all had changed. The portals would still be closed and her life would still be merely about survival. And though she knows this is real, it doesn’t feel like it yet.
The bar is quiet tonight, Halovians busy preparing for Deepfrost. She doesn’t mind, as it gives her time to organize and clean. Everything is technically done, but nothing is exactly how she’d like, and she knows it will take some time to get it all right. For now, she busies herself with cleaning the glassware, a rag in one hand as she dries and replaces each one on the shelves.
Of course, there was the dark cloud of Korbin hanging over her dream of this place. He didn’t like the bar, he didn’t like Sunjata, and he didn’t like anything that Weaver had been getting up to lately. It felt like a growing rift between then that she would never manage to bridge. She puts the glass in her hand down with unnecessary force, wincing at the sound. Thankfully, nothing breaks. She sighs, reminding herself to be gentler with the rest of them. She’d called in too many favors to get these to start breaking them already.
"Such stress, for a quiet bar." Neron all but purrs as he steps into the Kraai, unlooping a scarf he does not need from around his neck as his body registers the transition from cold to warm. Steel eyes flicker around at the place, taking it all in, impressed.
"I had expected to see Sunjata here, now that the place is open," he confesses, stepping up to the bar to nod a greeting to Weaver. "I don't think we have met, officially. Neron Launceleyn." Though he hardly needs introducing, given how frequently the people see their Warden in the streets these days.
"I confess, I prefer this to the VlamVloed," he says, a catlike smile on his face. "But perhaps that is because the Kraai is in Snowcloak? It feels more like home."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
A voice pulls her from her thoughts, one she does not recognize. That’s not entirely shocking, for though she knows most of the faces in Halo, she does not know all their voices or names. They were a small town, but not that small. As it turns out, the face is indeed one she recognizes, though she is somewhat surprised to actually see him here. He has not been particularly visible until very recently. Perhaps he decided that he actually needed to earn his keep.
Weaver chuckles slightly. ”Younger brothers will do that to a girl,” she says, friendly enough. Though she may have her reservations about Halo’s ‘Warden’, she was fairly open-minded and willing to give him a chance. Loren had certainly proved himself, so perhaps Neron would as well. ”You recently missed Sunjata. He’s been rather busy in Torchline, and outside of making sure there’s booze here, he’s content to leave me in charge.” It was hers, really. He was just the benefactor.
Weaver sets the cloth down and turns, putting both hands on the bar. ”Weaver Hale. Can I get you something to drink?” she asks, knowing she owes him a few free drinks. Such a small price to ask of Sunjata, and she wonders why he had not asked for more. It makes her think that perhaps he does care about a plebeian like her. Well that, or he has something else planned for later. ”Yet this is not your home,” she remarks at his comment, though not unkindly. No, she says it simply as one would state a fact, because it is true. ”Is this like your previous home, or have you simply grown used to Halo?”
"Not just a girl," Neron said smoothly on the subject of younger brothers. Sure, Loren might be his twin, but he was still younger if only by a few minutes. Sinking down onto one of the barstools, his scarf folded neatly beside him on the countertop, Neron didn't bother to remove his coat. He was dressed in all black as was his usual custom, continuing to gaze around at the Kraai with unabashed interest.
It wasn't so surprising to hear that Sunjata had moved on, he supposed, though he did have to question why the man had his fingers in so many pies bars, and what he was going to do with all of this influence spread across multiple lands. "Perhaps next time then, Weaver Hale. I am hardly one to complain at the company. It is good to see a place like this in Snowcloak." Oh, the people could keep themselves warm with booze well enough, but it was definitely an upside to have more official establishments in which to do it.
Her comment had an eyebrow arching, and he shook his head politely in refusal of the drink. Once upon a time he might have jumped at the opportunity, but not so much these days. "If this is not my home then I find myself without one," he remarked. This is very little like Northwind, where I am from. Which is precisely why I prefer it."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
Weaver chuckles at that, nodding in agreement. After all, she knows Loren pretty well, and she can see how he could be a handful (understatement of the year). Though she also rather liked the Grand Healer. Perhaps she’d find she liked the Warden as well. Oh, wouldn’t Korbin disown her for that. ”And yet, we’d be lost without them,” she says with a wry smile. A truth, though. She’d lost one brother, she cannot imagine losing another.
The question of Sunjata was a good one. She wasn’t sure what he’d do now either, with all this influence. Life had changed for him though, and as such, she wonders if his goals had changed. A question for the future, when she gets out of Halo in Flowerbirth. Not everything belonged in letters. ”It is nice to have something other than a hole in the wall tavern with piss poor booze, you mean?” she asks with a playful grin.
She’d made it a point to build a place that suited Halo, that screamed of it’s best things. As he looks around, he’ll see the large hearth with it’s roaring fire. The bar area is dimly lit, the red accent walls giving off the impression of sitting inside the fire itself. Antlers and tusks hang on the walls, donated by hunters who wanted to leave a public mark. In all honesty, she is flattered by his words, to know that he likes it.
Her own eyebrow raises as he declines the drink. Huh. Well, that leaves some questions, though she holds them for now. There’s a more important one in front of her. ’I suppose that’s true. At some point Halo must become your home.” If it has not already. ”I admit, I’ve heard only the rumors of how you ended up here, but I cannot be sure they are more than hearsay. Would you care to give me your version of events?” Honestly when he’d first arrived, when the portals first opened, she and Korbin had just ignored it, expecting everyone would go away as quickly as they came once they realized that Halo was. Clearly, they’d been wrong and finally pulled their head out of the sand, but there was some catching up to do.
"Once upon a time I would have disagreed with you, but not so much these days," Neron remarked with a smirk, nodding to Weaver as he leant casually against the bar. A couple of years alone in Halo would serve as a good reminder about why family was important, even if your younger brother could be a complete stick in the mud at times (and that, too, was an understatement).
Her remark earned a crooked sort of smile from Neron, and he nodded to concede to her description. "I was trying to be polite, but yes - exactly that. I can see this becoming the heart of Snowcloak once the blizzards set in. It certainly gives out the vibe of warmth." Not that the Warden felt it very much, or had any intention whatsoever about going near that fire.
But there was more to discuss, it seemed, and Neron lifted steel blue eyes to Weaver's as she asked her question. He nodded - it was only fair. "I only learned the truth about how and why myself a short time ago. It is to do with the Voice, pulling people from other lands in an attempt to free herself. Most of my family went to the Hollowed Grounds, but for whatever reason I was flung out here, not knowing what had happened, alone in the cold." He snorted.
"I'd have died were it not for the Eirachi. She made me Warden, constructed the Palace... all in exchange for my first born child. I wasn't in a position to say no at the time, you understand." He sighed. "Though luckily enough, I don't have a child."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She is not surprised by his response, given what she knows of Loren’s past. He’d told her little of Neron, giving away only his secrets and not his brother’s, as much as that is possible with a shared history. ”Halo has a way of bringing families together,” she says with a slight chuckle. Perhaps overly true for him, pieces of his family brought here together because of him. Still, though some survived Halo alone, most found that life was better together.
Weaver grins slightly at the mention of being polite. ”No need for that. I am not polite company, you will find.” She could be, if someone really wanted, but why bother? Why put on airs of being proper, when in the end, everyone was probably thinking the same thing anyway. Weaver usually liked to cut through the bull, where she could. ”Though I admit, that is my goal. Hopefully it works.” Though she’s pretty sure this place will be bustling come Deepfrost. With nothing else to do, they would come here when the weather allowed short walks. They would come and drink and people would probably throw knives into the wall, but she didn’t really mind. Scars were stories. She might even pin up a couple of targets.
Her eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the Eirachi, though Weaver says nothing until he finishes his story. ”I sort of thought she was a myth,” she muses, a bit surprised to find out the goddess (lesser goddess? entity? whatever she was...) was here, living in Halo. ”She didn’t happen to tell you why? That is a strange bargain.” It doesn’t really explain much of anything, though she doesn’t expect that Neron has much more information. He could be holding out, certainly, and she wouldn’t blame him. Though some part of her expected that the Eirachi hadn’t given him a more satisfactory answer. None of the gods ever do.
"Oh, doesn't it just," Neron replied with a smooth grin; a callback to the fact that he had, indeed, called a majority of his remaining family to the Citadel. "But then I also find that it has a habit of creating new families, if you don't have any by blood." He hadn't experienced that personally, but the number of alliances struck in the cold city couldn't be denied.
Finally tearing his attention away from the interior of the Kraai, Neron focused properly on the woman before him. "Well, I will endeavour to be polite enough for the two of us," he said with a graceful dip of his head, his tone glib with playful humour. "And I daresay it will work. Give it a week or two and people will flood in, no doubt. I am not much of a drinker these days, but I will do my best to drop by as well."
Most people thought the Eirachi was a myth, and Neron couldn't really blame them - a voluptuous woman with sharp teeth, crafted seemingly from the ice and snow of the Tundra? It was easy to dismiss. "I would have too, if she had not been right in front of me when I first arrived." He smirked. "And no, predictably she didn't say why. Her motivations are her own, and who are we to question gods and goddesses about them?"
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She nods at that. ”It does indeed. Bonds are forged in blood and ice here.” Literal blood, not just family ties. Your family becomes those you hunt with, those you trade with, those you check on when the winds howl and the storms rage. Family here is shaped by a mutual need to survive, bonds made all the stronger for it.
Weaver chuckles at that. ”How chivalrous of you.” Her tone is equally humorous, though one will find she is rarely serious. Even when she is, it does not last for longer than it needs too. Life is too short for that. ”These days?” she asks, turning his words into a question. One that’s easy enough to worm out of. Loren had cut back on his drinking, so why not his brother also? Still, given what little bits of information she does know, it leaves her wondering.
She chuckles wryly at his last statement though, shaking her head slightly. ”And yet to simply accept everything they say without question is to walk into a trap blind far too often.” Not that they ever got much information, but at least, she could be wary, could keep her eyes open. ”So then, why keep the position? It seems to me the bargain did not require you stay.” The way she says it though makes it clear she is not saying he should go, but merely trying to understand what held him here. In a land made of ice and snow, in a land he owes nothing to, with a people he does not know. It would be easy enough to leave, as all the other Wardens did.
Blood and ice - that was a very good way of putting it, and Neron stored that away as something worth remembering. Giving a smirk and a shrug to Weaver - chivalry, at least, he could count on from his upbringing - the Warden had to consider her next question long and hard. He could lie, but it would come out eventually. And that would only damage his reputation further than he already anticipated.
"For personal reasons, I made a deal with the Voice to ascend me." He spoke softly, without preamble or sugarcoating. "I still have access to my magic, but for all intents and purposes, I am Ascended. I don't plan for it to affect the political landscape of the Citadel, but I understand that I don't really have a say in that." According to a certain Captain Aristomache, anyway.
With a humourless laugh, Neron nodded his agreement of Weaver's assessment of the gods - if he had been drinking, he'd have tipped his glass to her. "No, it didn't require me to stay. But then there wasn't a way out of Halo, truly, until the portals opened, not without putting myself in unnecessary danger. The place had become home to me, by that point."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
”I would miss booze too much,” she says at his admission, and it is her casual way of saying that she doesn’t particularly care what he is. She cares only how it will affect Halo, and she gives a rather humorless laugh as he mentions as much. ”Ah, yes. I can see the problem though. Between prejudices and your new family ties, there may be some issues.” It is not consoling, but it is understanding. Understanding, but not judgmental. She may have grown up in a rather Abandoned friendly place, but that didn’t mean she had no idea what it was like to be on the receiving end of some old seated prejudices. As such, she did her best not to have them. Not that she was perfect, but she was better than many.
”We see many Wardens here. They claim the title, they give up, they live among the people again.” Again, she is not suggesting it is the path he should take, merely that is a path that exists. ”So tell me, Warden, if this is your home too, what do you hope for it?” That’s the part she cares about, more than anything else.
Neron smiled at that; it was a smile of relief, briefly warming his features, that he hadn't talked himself into yet another war of words. And if the rest of the population were anything like Weaver, there was very little he had to worry about. "You know, I haven't missed it until now. Clearly you are already having success with this place, if you are making me thirsty for something I don't even need," he said, chuckling.
But of course, not everyone would be like Weaver, and Neron nodded his understanding. "Well, given that we have Deepfrost and Longnight to look forward to, any issues can wait until the ice melts a little, I would hope." The largest family of all consisted of everyone in the Citadel, of course, and survival was paramount over everything.
"So I have heard," he said of the previous Wardens, shifting comfortably on his seat and starting to shrug out of his coat; it didn't look like he would immediately be thrown out of the place, so that was a plus. "As for what I hope for it? Safety and prosperity above all," he said. "I want to see the cold claim less lives, and see the people of the Citadel make the most of the resources we have available. With the opening of the portals, the possibility of trade, too, becomes tempting."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She grins at his words, clearly pleased to be praised so. ”I have seen Ascended drink. Not that you will get drunk, though perhaps that is a boon. Not sure the taste is quite the same, but maybe simply the memory of it.” She shrugs, because she has no way of knowing, except what others describe to her. Though she has definitely seen Wessex down some whiskey.
”For now, they will be busy preparing, and until the snows get too bad, they will continue to prepare.” He has lived here for a few years, so perhaps he knows this, but she’ll reiterate if so. After all, she has lived here longer. ”Eventually though, they may get bored. There’s a point in Deepfrost where they grow tired even of drinking. My unsolicited advice, simply be present. Show your face regularly. If they think you are good for Halo, if they think you are one of us, they won’t ask too many questions.” It shouldn’t be that hard for him, as he’d done similarly before. ”Lucky for you, there is very little sun during Deepfrost,” she adds with a wink.
The Warden shrugs out of his coat, and she is pleased to watch him settle in, rather than looking as if he’s ready to run back out the door at the lack of Sunjata. She listens as he answers her question, leaning on the bar, elbows holding her up. ”A good political speech,” she says, and though there’s a bit of challenge there, it’s also clear she accepts the answer. ”The real question is, how do we do those things?” She cocks her head slightly, curious.
"Oh, is that so?" he asked, honestly surprised by that. He hadn't exactly been given a manual when going to see the Voice about his ascension. "If that's the case, I might as well take up Sunjata's offer. What's your best whiskey?" he inquired. It might not be the same, but Neron had enjoyed it when he could actually taste. Not getting drunk didn't bother him; it would have been the same sort of numbness he existed in now, and he'd already achieved that.
"Mm, I have found that the hunters, especially, get a peculiar sort of cabin fever during Deepfrost, when it is too dangerous to brave the Tundra more than once a week or so," he said, speaking from previous experience. Nodding at her advice, however, he made a mental note to follow it. He didn't have his lofty position as Eirachi's favoured on his side any longer, but he could certainly be present.
With a wry smile at her quip about the sun, he glanced fully at Weaver as she propped her elbows on the bar. Her response surprised a laugh out of him, one that showed fangs, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Guilty," he admitted. "In a previous life I was a lawyer, so I can't help but give blanket politics at times," he explained by way of apology. "Speaking plainly, much of what I experienced when I first arrived was a lot of motivation but a lack of refined skill," he said. "I want to give more opportunity for people in the Citadel to hone their talents. Especially Abandoned - magic could turn the tables of survival in a harsh Deepfrost."
