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
She nods. ”I’ve seen Wessex down a glass of whiskey,” she confirms. As he asks after the best whiskey, she goes to grab a bottle from one of the top shelves, holding it out for him to see. ”This one. I’m not sure it’ll taste quite the same for you as for me, but let's find out what it is like for you, shall we?” It sounds vaguely like an experiment, but probably a fun one. She pours a glass for each of them, his a bit larger, remembering how Wessex had gone for some quantity in her own glass. Maybe that was the trick to getting anything from it. Or maybe Wessex just wanted to drown out the early disaster of that party. She’s not sure.
Weaver places the glass before him, titling her own toward him before lifting it to her lips and taking a sip. She chuckles at the mention of the hunters though, nodding in agreement. ”Ah, tell me about it,” she says with a knowing smile. She’d been one of those hunters until very recently, after all. Deepfrost always drove her crazy. It would be interesting to see whether or not working inside one building the whole time would do the same to her or not. ”I will do my best to simply keep them drunk and happy, but it usually only works for so long.”
”A lawyer? How very fancy.” She says, though it’s only teasing. Though she’s not highly educated by any means, she wasn’t an idiot and knew enough. The idea of being a lawyer, something they have little use of here, interests her though. Not that she wants to be one, but rather that she’s simply curious what it might have been like. What he says about Halo is true though. They certainly apprentice, they certainly train, but there’s a lot of learning by doing here and you can only refine your skills so much in such a culture. ”Is the Academy only one step in that plan?” Though the training did work, not everyone would enroll.
"Wessex seems the type," Neron said dryly; he hadn't realised that Weaver was acquainted with the Wraith, and the knowledge brought an amused smile to his face. He accepted the glass of whiskey, raising it in a toast before taking a generous sip. He could taste it very distantly, like a dream of it dancing across his tongue. "I can't say that I got a good impression of it," he said by way of explanation, smirking at Weaver, "but what I did taste was stellar." Finishing it off and tipping his empty glass to her, he set it back down on the bar.
Drunk and happy hunters could be a problem in itself at times, but Neron was confident that Weaver could keep them under control in the bar. "As long as they don't decide that any drunken expeditions are a good idea, I think we will be fine," he said; the last thing they needed was a bunch of their most skilled men and women toddling off into the Tundra to die.
"I was quite fancy, you know. A duke, in fact," he drawled for her, putting on every air and grace he had learned growing up, though since coming to Caido all of that meant pitifully nothing to him. "Mm, the Academy was a first step," Neron explained as their talk continued. "I believe my brother will be starting a medical school, for those who wish to focus on healing specifically, magical and otherwise. Captain Aristomache has set up her barracks for training. What we could use is more organisation of the hunters, now."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
Weaver chuckles at that, nodding slightly. She sips her own whiskey as he downs his, waiting to find out what it’s like for him. Though she is by no means an academic, she is the curious sort, and she wonders vaguely what it’s like to be Ascended. Not that she can really imagine giving up booze or sensation and the pleasure of those things, but that doesn’t mean she can’t find out a little more about it nonetheless. ”So basically, I should stop wasting the good booze on Ascended?” she says with a playful grin.
Weaver takes his glass from the bar and places it in the sink with a little less force than earlier. It really would be a shame to break such craftsmanship. ”Mmm, true. Though I may not be one of their number anymore, you never really stop being a hunter here. They listened to me before, I would assume I can talk them out of foolish ideas still.” Though really, very few of them would actually try it. Someone desperate and starving, perhaps, but they are unusually well stocked for Deepfrost this year, so hopefully that would not be an issue for them.
Her eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of being a duke, elbows resting on the bar again. ”What is the point in that, exactly? We clearly don’t have them here. Though it does sound fancy.” A title, she knows, some land with it maybe. But she has never really understood the point of all those lesser titles other than to well...sound fancy.
Weaver nods as he mentions Loren and the Captain. ”Yes, I did help Captain Aristomache with some of that.” It comes as no surprise that Loren would soon have his own school. She also helped Loren but that technically hasn’t happened yet. ”Have you met Noah Olson yet?” she asks. ”He is one of the hunters here. Relatively young, but dedicated. Interested in imparting knowledge of ‘smart hunting’ to all of us. He might be the man you need for the job.”
"Basically, yes," Neron confirmed with a playful grin in return as she took his glass away; at least now he had officially fulfilled his bargain with Sunjata, even if the man in question was nowhere to be seen. That was only a fleeting thought, however. Weaver was a much better fit for the Kraai, and had demonstrated as much in only a very short space of time. She was in a more favourable position to shake the rowdy hunters into order, too.
"With luck, it will be a quiet Deepfrost anyway," he said, along the same pattern of thought. "There haven't been many rookie hunters going out during Leafchange. So hopefully those who are around know the season well enough to take it with a pinch of salt." They were too valuable to lose, at the end of things. "What made you stop hunting? This place?" He asked.
Snorting, he could only really shrug these days at the idea of a duke, even though for most of his life he had ridden upon the title like it was something grand, something he was entitled to beating others with. "It was to show that I was a lot fancier than everyone else. And to show that I was close to the king," he explained. "For a while my prejudices followed me here, to Halo, but... well. As you well know, the cold has a way of knocking those out of you, doesn't it?"
Eyebrows raising, he made mental note of the name she offered. "Noah Olson," he repeated. "I'll make a note to speak with him - thank you."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
There was a reason Sunjata had trusted the Kraai to her. Many reasons, but the most important being that Halo was her home and she was well suited to running a bar here. Never mind that he hated the cold and never intended to stay here. No, he’d simply saw an opportunity to worm himself into Halo and taken it, and she was not complaining. After all, this had really worked out for her. Besides, she is a stellar bartender and already had a good reputation with the locals.
Weaver nods as he mentions not too many rookie hunters. ”The seasoned ones usually talk some sense into our rookies anyway, when we have them.” Usually being the key word, but she couldn’t just blanket any statement and as such, didn’t try. Things did go wrong. She nods again as he asks why she stopped hunting. ”This place. Steady work, slightly less life threatening. Not that I’ll never go hunt again, but it’s nice to have the option not to.” Still, she would never let anyone here starve, if she could help it, and if that meant heading out to hunt sometimes, then she would. You never stopped being a hunter here, not really.
She chuckles as he mentions that the cold will knock a fancy title right out of you. ”It has a way of making us all pretty even, yes.” In the end, the cold doesn’t really give a shit if you have a fancy title. It doesn’t care that you were once a duke or now a Warden. It doesn’t care if you have magic or not. It doesn’t care if you have spent your life learning to survive it. The cold will catch you all the same. ”Tell me about your old home?” She asks, curious what else he’d tell, simply curious about who he was. Not everything needed to be about his place as Warden.
Neron would agree with that much at least (and most of everything else Weaver had said, honestly) - she was a stellar bartender. He hadn't even noticed time passing since sitting himself down in the Kraai; even the presence of the roaring fire wasn't enough to put him off. "Well, with some way to really train the hunters in place for the future, hopefully even fewer rookies will need talking down," he remarked. "And I bet it's a relief for you. Your regulars will have more respect for someone who's done their sort of work, too." It had been a stroke of genius, really, to put her in charge.
Not having expected such curiosity, it actually took Neron a couple of moments to properly remember the old world. Northwind, Northaven. His family, all of them. He tapped a finger against the bar. "My old world was at war, and there was concern that the kingdom - Northwind - might succumb to it. So a few powerful magicians created a portal to a new land, in the hope of sending our best and brightest there to make a future should the worst happen. They called it Northaven. It was a settlement surrounded by a large wall, about as large as the Citadel perimeters." So fairly massive. "There were things in the jungle outside. It was... an odd little place, honestly."
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She hums her agreement, the idea of actually organizing the hunters swimming in her mind. They’d all been so busy just trying to get food in the first place that they’d never bothered to stop and be organized about it, working together and yet still for themselves. They shared, of course, made sure those in their party didn’t starve and went home with their fair share, but certainly there could have been a better way to go about it. ”That is the goal. A pretty face behind the bar who will absolutely stab her regulars if they are shits. Usually wins approval here.” She grins, a little vicious, pulling a knife from her belt, one finger on the point of the blade. It is one of many blades she wields.
Part of what makes her good at her job is her curiosity, her willingness to simply ask questions and her ability to get you talking. She doesn’t pry for secrets, but rather lets people give them to her in time, but she makes herself approachable. She gathers information this way, through harmless conversations, storing it away for the day it might be useful. No one thinks twice about the friendly, chatty bartender, after all. ”Huh,” she says, partly just an exhale of breath rather than a proper word. ”Was Northhaven actually a better choice?” The question is genuine, not judging. She understands running from a fight to live another day, to survive. She is not ashamed to run from a fight; not all fights can be won. But some might be worth losing. Would she leave Halo, if that seemed like the only option?
Neron let out a velvet laugh at that, watching the knife lazily as she produced it and giving Weaver a nod of very deserved respect. "It sounds like that's exactly what the Citadel needs," he said with a grin. "And it doesn't surprise me that it would win approval - I got that impression of the place from my first few weeks here." Back when he had still been a tightly strung Launceleyn dealing with living in the freezing cold all the time. It wasn't surprising that the people didn't think they saw him around all that much; it had been true, for a while.
Her question was unexpected, and he didn't think half the people in charge in Northwind had ever asked something like that. A smirk curled across Neron's lips, and he tapped a finger absently against the bar. "It's hard to say," he murmured. "Northaven was well established by the time I was old enough to question it. I was practically raised there," he said. "But I did always wonder, if we wouldn't have been better off defending ourselves. How many people didn't make it through the portal? How many were left in Northwind to die?" He shrugged.
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She grins, delivilish and pleased. There’s a threat in that knife, though it’s not directed at him. It’s a general threat, the sort that she wears regularly. Such a pretty, vicious thing she is. ”It took you weeks to learn that?” Her grin is playful, her voice amused. ”I would think you’d learn it in a few days.” Though really, he’d needed time to settle in, to start listening to complaints. Though most things in Halo could be solved by a good fight, so she had to wonder how many people had decided to bring those complaints to Neron. Likely they were both bloodied and bruised by the time they did.
It is not surprising that most people didn’t ask that question. That question leads to many more, to moral questions no one really wants to answer. Do you save the best and sacrifice those who remain? Is it better to save a few lives or die trying to save them all? She can’t answer these questions either, and she does not judge others for avoiding asking. Sometimes you simply act. She takes a sip of the whiskey, nodding to his answer. ”Sometimes ignorance really is bliss,” she says, tilting her head slightly.
”You have been rather gracious at answering my questions. Do you have any for me? I know you came here looking for Sunjata, but I will do my best to prove useful. Maybe more useful.” Her lips curve in that teasing grin, though to the Warden of Halo, Weaver might indeed be more useful than a man of sunshine and oceans.
Neron let out a quiet laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I'm a slower learner than I thought," he said. Once it would have irked him to think of himself as anything less than supremely capable, and at times the spoiled brat within him still shone through, but the Warden had more of a mastery of himself these days than ever before. He nodded in agreement about the nature of ignorance, though he definitely felt better for knowing, for questioning. "Sometimes ignorance gets you killed, though," he added, unable to help himself.
Raising an eyebrow, he hadn't expected the open offer to answer questions, Neron tilting his head at Weaver. "To be honest, I only came to check out the place, since Sunjata mentioned setting something up here. You've already been more useful than he would have been, given that you grew up here." He grinned. "But since you were so gracious as to ask - what other plans do you have for the Kraai? Why was Sunjata so interested in setting up here?"
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
”Maybe,” she says with a playful little grin. ”Or maybe you were busy not dying. That happens here.” She shrugs, taking another sip from her glass and draining what little is left. It was hardly enough to count as a proper drink, but she’d enjoyed the few sips at least. Arguably she’d be bad at her job if all she did was drink all the product, though she’s pretty sure that’s exactly why Sunjata picked her. To drink all the product and make a few friends. ”Mmmhmm,” she says, humming her agreement to that. ”What a double edged sword, ignorance.” Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and all that.
Weaver chuckles his next statement, nodding slightly. She was more useful to a fellow Halovian (yes, Neron probably counts at this point) than an Outlander turned Torchliner. ”Sunjata? Mmm, well to be fair, what man can resist spreading his influence a little.” She raises a brow, something of a challenge in that look for him to deny her. It’s true, and whether Sunjata had said as much, she can speculate on that.
”As for my plans...employ more of Halo, make sure there is food on their tables at home and give them a purpose. The icing on the cake for us both? Secrets. Bars are good places for gossip, and you never know when it might come in handy.” It is a very honest answer, and a bold one, but maybe it behooves them both for Neron to know. Besides, she had refused to give away any of Halo’s secrets, so she is not worried about being thought a traitor. Halo would always come first, but that doesn’t mean the secrets she gathers won’t be useful for Halo.
Neron laughed at that, more than happy to concede the point. "That does happen here," he agreed. "Though I daresay that Halo is life on hard mode for the people who live here. Now that the portals are open, if they did move elsewhere they might find it too easy." That being said, he didn't sound particularly concerned about losing people to warmer climes. As Weaver had already mentioned, the Halovians were close-knit - this was all they had ever known, and he didn't think many were likely to abandon it.
Speaking of men spreading their influence, and the Kraai's propensity for keeping secrets, Neron's steel blue eyes lit up. "Well," he said quietly, "if that's the case, it might be that I have cause to visit here a lot more often. And I might have an extra job for someone with your skills." He tapped his nose; too early to make solid plans, but if Weaver was interested, Neron could consider a new spymaster.
The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
Weaver chuckles at that, thinking about how Korbin keeps insisting they must all be soft in Torchline. In a way, she does agree with him, though she also knows some of the residents of Torchline a little better than him. They were hard enough folk, though their life was definitely a little cushier. ”I suspect you will find Halo full of a very loyal and stubborn lot, who would absolutely complain about life being too easy. Only a small portion will actually consider leaving, though I assume very few will consider coming here.” Likely their population would stay more or less the same, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Her grin turns a little sly as he suggests coming here more. ”Do you get better hearing as an Ascended? Might help you eavesdrop. Though really, drunk people do not keep their voice nearly as low as they should.” Though as he mentions a job, she cocks her head slightly and raises an eyebrow. ”And what job might that be?” Though she can guess, she’d rather him actually say it.
"Well, we have a few refugees from the Hollowed Grounds coming here for Deepfrost. Apparently, Longnight there is dangerous enough for them to consider Halo as preferable. Maybe they'll like it enough to stay." Neron shrugged his shoulders. Unlikely given the events so far in Deepfrost, but lol that's the power of foresight.
His smile was crooked as the conversation turned to the future; of the Kraai, of Weaver's role in Halo, of it all. "I do, as it happens," he said. "Smell and taste were near enough annihilated, but there are perks in other areas I suppose." Neron had a lot to learn when it came to those perks, but there was time for that.
As for the job? "I suppose you'd be a mistress of spies, since my last master perished," he murmured. "Call it whatever you want, though - the job is the same."
