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!
One thing Glas realizes very quickly, is that with Deepfrost approaching, the Citadel is really busy. And even though today is the errand day to go and get more supplies and extras, usually a task his father does, it’d been handed to him with the strict instructions of ’don’t fuck it up’ and a shopping list of sorts. Hardly any guidance to where any new merchants or items might be out, items to trade or papers for writing out trade agreements on them stuffed into a pocket, and they’d shoved him out the door that morning.
His blonde hair is a tangle about his face because of the wind, and the chill in the air is strong as he follows the path and surveys the crowds coming and going, standing there all alone with the list clutched into his hand. His green gaze drifts toward the first few lines, wood for woodworking and fires (two different types, be sure you get the sturdy ones for the work, the lesser ones for the fires), food for the house… The rest of them start to blur together.
He reaches up with his other hand to rub at his cheek, over the scar to his face, exhaling a quiet sigh of a plume of white, lip quivering slightly as he focuses back ahead unable to tell where to start.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
"Do ya need some help?"
Noah's voice is smooth and clear. Leaned against a post by his right forearm, raised above his head. He had been watching the younger man for quite a while now. He looked a little confused, or maybe overwhelmed. Admittidly, the Citadel was bustling with frantic activity. The Halovians were preparing for the ast-approaching Deepfrost, as well as the arrival of the Hollowed Grounds refugees. Noah himself was here trading today. He had an order of firewood he had paid a trio of younglings boys to deliver to his house, and now he was waiting for them to come back so he could give them the bundle of dried meat for them to table back home to their family.
The tall man pushed off the post and straightened up. He shifted the bag that draped across his body before turning towards the other blond. "Do you know where you're going?" He asked as he closed the distance between them, having to dodge a few women with large baskets full of dried fruits and baked goods from outside of Halo.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
Despite the smoothness of Noah’s voice, Glas still jumps slightly out of his skin when the rumble reaches him. Emerald eyes flicker toward the sound, toward the man it had come from before averting his gaze once more. Had it been that obvious? Had he looked that much like a fish out of water that someone else had to come and help?
He supposes it beats having to work up the courage to ask.
He inhales a sharp breath when Noah approaches, head still ducked slightly as his fingers run along the note he’d brought with him. “I-I’m from here. If that’s what you mean.” He begins, because he should know where things were. “It’s just… Been a while since I’ve… Been here, that’s all.” He adds, gnawing on his lower lip before he looks up and squints toward the stalls. “I… Got sent with a list, it’s not usually this busy.” Even for this time of year – but there were those from the Hollowed Grounds incoming and he supposes that might add to the business of the world around him, the place he’d called home and yet remained so hidden from.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah was an observant creature. It came with the territory of being a hunter. His father had trained him from a young age to pay attention to the world around him. Animals and people both moved on habit and schedule, and it was important to recognize that. Noah had been an obedient child, and harnessed this skill well. It aided him, but sometimes it was a detriment to others. It was hard to hide things from him, even if he wasn't trying.
The reindeer held up his hands, palms out, towards the younger blond and apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you." He said quickly, eyeing Glas up and down. The frustration was apparent to Noah, and so he stopped a few yards from the other man and turned his body some, trying to tone down any intimidation factor that he held. "Even if you visited the marketplace every day, it still looks different in this season. If you're not careful, you might not even be able to get the same booth." He smiled some, hoping to warm and dissolve any rising tension the shorter man might be feeling. "It took me almost an hour the other day to find what I was looking for." He might be exaggerating a bit, but he hoped it would bring comfort.
"What're you lookin' for?"
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
“Y-You didn’t.” He says quickly, hoping it’s believable. Internally, he curses himself for how sharp his tongue might have been to give that impression, a stark crimson blush forming on the back of his neck and creeping up his cheeks, dark against the pale scar to his face. Still, he can see the way Noah shifts, and it causes a slight breath of air to reach his lungs, looking back at his list as if it’s the only thing that matters right now — not his awkwardness, not his fear.
Noah’s words do in fact, instill a bit of calm to the young man, and he chews on the inside of his cheek as he offers a sharp nod in response. “I guess… so.” Green gaze focuses on the paper in his hand as he watches the crowd mill about. “I… Need firewood. And… Wood for c-crafting.” He manages, fingers tight against the note and finally glancing toward Noah briefly, accepting the help if Noah’s so generous.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah was very interested in this young man. For claiming to be a native of Halo, his reaction to the bustling marketplace intrigued him. It was not often that Noah witnessed someone who had grown up in the ice and the snow to be so easily overwhelmed. The scar that was easily seen, though, helped Noah speculate. He couldn't say what had caused the other's scar, but there were only a handful of common reasons here in the tundra.
Trying to see the list to which he clung, Noah leaned just slightly towards him. He waited, carefully and quietly, for the response before he moved on. Noah didn't need to push his fellow Halovian into something he didn't want, but Noah would always offer assistance.
A wide smile broke his face at the mention of firewood. "You're in luck. I just ordered some of that myself." He stepped forward, and gestured for Glas to follow him. "I got the boys delivering it to my house. When they come back to get my part of the barter, we'll send em with a load to your place. How's that sound?" He looked back towards Glas, to make sure he was coming with him and wasn't getting stuck in the crowd. "The crafting wood, hmm," He said, the list of merchants he knew to be regulars running through his head, "this way."
Noah turned down another isle, eyes moving across the booths and tables. He nodded every so often when he met the eyes of acquaintances. "My name's Noah, by the way. Noah Olson."
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
He focuses on the list as Noah edges closer, gnawing on the inside of his lip until it’s almost raw — but he manages to utter what he’s come for, glancing quickly toward Noah and then away again as the other man comments that he’d ordered some too. “Oh-oh, sure.” He says quietly, but agreeing easily. It sure beats having to cart them all home himself at the end of the day, doesn’t it?
But then Noah’s off, and Glas feels like he’s scrambling to try and get his feet to work with his mind as he goes to follow Noah through the crowd, shoulders hunched and note clutched as if it’s his last possession in the world. He hears Noah’s name, has heard of the hunter in passing at least, and the nerves quell a bit more. He wonders if Noah knows his family name as well, if it had made much of a mark. “G-Glas Westfall.” He manages through the crowd, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze to focus on the path they take, hoping the stall turns up quickly and perhaps Noah might be able to do the talking — though he takes a shaky and long breath in, knowing his luck isn’t that good.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
The hunter navigated through the crowded streets with ease. His bulky frame definitely aided in that, but his feet moved with a cadence of familiarity and practice. He knew this marketplace well. Every few minutes he looked over his shoulder to see if the boy was still following. When he gave his name, Noah was confident he would stay with him.
The younger man's apprehension made sense to Noah now. He knew about that family's history. It was hard not to -- Halo was small, and the people talked. He knew the Westfalls had been attacked by a group of exiles in Whitebrim. Noah's only up close encounter had been recent with that particular kind of people, and it was not pleasant. It put blood on Noah's hands.
But, Noah was not here to make this man uncomfortable even further. He was here to help. "Oh, yeah, Westfall. Your names on the bottom of my table. Probably your father's handiwork, but maybe even your grandfather's. It was my grandfather's gift to my parents when they got married." He shot Glas a warm, bright smile, before stopping in front of a deep shop. "Hey, Rusty," Noah called, stepping inside and gesturing for Glas to follow.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
If there’s one thing that Glas’ eyes are trained on, it’s Noah’s feet to ensure he doesn’t get lost. The other man seems well versed in keeping himself solid and easily through the crowd where Glas had a tendency to get pushed or swayed. Perhaps it was his height, perhaps it was the fact that the blonde didn’t put up much of a fight or look like he would, to where people didn’t seem to mind if they barged right into him. It’s fine, he was weedy and lanky enough, the only muscle built were those for crafting and cutting wood and shaping it into other things.
Still, his gaze does lift to Noah when he speaks, nodding quietly though unsure if the man can see it or not. “Yeah, that was probably my dad.” He manages, surprised to find he doesn’t stutter over that set of words. But he’s made some amount of progress so far, and if Noah knew the name of his family, perhaps he already understood why he was the way that he was.
Made things easier that way, anyway.
The warm and bright smile that’s offered does tug a small one on Glas’ face even if he doesn’t look at the man for long, instead, focusing on following Noah into the shop as he clutches the list for dear life, offering a quiet nod of greeting to whomever this Rusty guy is.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah was not a carpenter, but he was knowledgeable enough to know where the carpenters shopped. Since the portals opened, Rusty's business was booming. He was able to harvest and mill more wood than ever before, and the variety was so enticing to the Halovians that used his service it kept him wealthy enough. From deep within the shop, the Halovian lumberjack emerged. A big, burly man, larger and broader than Noah, slapped the attuned on the shoulder in greeting. Rusty asked Noah what he needed, but the reindeer stepped aside and gestured towards Glas. "Here's your customer. Westfall." Familiarity and understanding filled the lumberjack's face and he reached out a massive hand towards Glas.
What can I do fer ya, boy? He asked, deep voice gruff but friendly enough. Noah stood there, looking between the lumberjack and the carpenter's son. He smiled warmly, almost excitedly, and crossed his arms over his chest.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
Was it wrong to put so much trust and faith in Noah when he didn’t really know the man? He was Halovian, after all. And a hunter at that. Glas knew all of this, and yet the anxiety eats at his stomach as he follows the taller and older man into the shop. His gaze flickers around to spot the familiar types of wood he used, some a bit more decorative than others, ones that were an exciting prospect to work with – wondering how the fibers would feel and if they were a bit more flexible than some of the others, a bit more soft.
His eyes flicker back toward the movement though, briefly, as a rather large man approaches and clasps Noah on the shoulder and internally Glas shudders with the thought of being that close to someone to have them do that to him. But Noah steps aside, and Glas’ gaze is wide as it lands on Rusty, hands clutching the note he has as if it’s his only lifeline through this. The hand is jutted out and Glas’ eyes follow it, lifting one of his own to offer a shake (albeit a bit trembly, he’s new at this after all) but his hands do bear the callouses of working hands.
“I- Uh, I need some specific types of wood for my… My parent’s shop.” He manages, struggling through it before looking down at the list as if it would give him all the strength he needs, even though the answer is in his head, he knows what he’s looking for he’s the one that’s making it anyway. “Oak, Birch, and Cherry… If you have any of them.” He’s uncertain about the cherry wood, that one being outsourced and all of that. But the color was stunning and one of his favorites to work with. He’d even outfit the note with a small question mark next to it just in case.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
While Noah was not the one who would be able to help Glas get all of what he needed, he was still pleased and willing to show the younger man the way to those who could help. Crossing his arms across his broad chest, Noah leaned back against a large, sturdy shelf. It did not move, the lumber stacked on it far outweighing the hunter. He watched Rusty look the scarred man up and down while he listed off what he needed.
The redhead nodded at the list, but chuckled some. His big belly jigged as he did so, and he turned to look at Noah, as if trying to pry a chuckle out of the hunter as well. Noah didn't understand what was funny, so he merely lifted a brow, and looked carefully at Glas. He was not sure how the carpenter's son would take to being laughed at.
"Wha's your da sending over for payment?" Rusty asked over his shoulder as he turned away from them. The large lumberjack gestured to a few, younger-looking but equally burly redheaded men. Noah knew them to be his sons. the boys scuttled off to gather what Glas had asked for.
"So, what's the project?" Noah asked Glas, still leaning against the shelf.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
It was beneficial to have the help of Noah, even if he was anxious to have a guide in his home of all things. He supposes that he needs the help, but it still makes him wonder what Noah might think of him in the long run. It also makes him wonder what Rusty might have to say about him if he ever came up in conversation between his father and the man. He sighs internally, hoping it never comes down to it.
There’s a chuckle that leaves Rusty – Glas’ eyes traveling along the larger man, muscles feathering briefly in his jaw before he swallows hard and looks back down to the note – not sure if the laughter comes from him or something else, but used to it all the same. He chews on the inside of his cheek as Rusty questions what the payment is, tossing a look over his shoulder to the young man, and Glas glances up once more. “We’ve got… Meat and…” Suddenly something catches his eye, and he focuses on the table used for the transactions, spotting the table leg that’s half connected with nails poking out the side. “I can make you a new table?” There’s no stutter here, focused too intently on the table that looks like it could fall any moment.
His gaze retracts, not quite hearing what Rusty might respond with, turning to glance at Noah as he leans along the shelf, Glas’ worrying on his cheek continuing as he focuses back on the list – anywhere but people’s faces. “I’m making… Some more dinnerware for some people…” The Kraai at the moment, mostly. “Also... I w-want to make a flute.” He offers quietly, only to Noah in case Rusty might laugh at this idea too.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah simply watched the transaction for a little while, observing carefully how the nervous-looking younger man would handle himself. He had brought him here, showed him the way, but Noah was no carpenter and had no way of helping other than standing here and making introductions.
Rusty seemed quite pleased with Glas and what he wanted. The workers shuffled until they had gathered all of what Glas wanted. When he offered to fix his table, Noah leaned forward and closed the distance. He grabbed an edge of the table and shook it. "Rusty, this table is a piece of shit. Ain't got nothing on the table I have. This kids family made my table. He'll give you something good." Noah turned his head to look at Glas, a smile creeping up one side of his face. Noah was trying to sell the younger man's offer, but he did not need to. The craftsmanship would speak for itself. The Westfalls were incredibly skilled. Rusty grumbled, but it was an agreeable sort of grumble that was assuring that the payment was good enough for him.
As Glas revealed the rest of his project, Noah raised an eyebrow. While the Olson man was not musically talented nor inclined, it was interesting to him that Glas was. "A flute?" He asked, quietly, out of the range of the gruff lumberjacks that might latch onto it as some sort of joke. "Can you play a flute?"
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
