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!
When Noah steps forward and grabs the table and shakes it, the ricketiness of the item causes him to twitch, almost like a flinch that he tries to recover from quickly before he gnaws on his lip. His gaze lifts toward Rusty, fighting against the souring and bittering anxiety that burns in his gut at the fact that Noah is looking at him now, has promoted the idea that the young crafter would do a good job – and he absolutely would. He’d been crafting for his entire life, it seemed like.
When Rusty offers a grumble and the rest of the items on his list are gathered, Glas chews on his lip and focuses on Noah briefly at the mention of the flute – how quietly the other man says it. So, as equally quiet, Glas shakes his head no. “N-No. I just… Want to make something other than furniture.” Something else that might bring people some joy, something that other people could use if they so wanted to.
Perhaps he might have some luck with it too? It was hard to say if he didn’t try for it, at least. A risk had to be taken at some point.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
I'll have this all delivered to yer da, then? Rusty suddenly asks, his voice yelling from the depths of the store. the lumberjack didn't really bother for an answer before the pair could hear him shouting out orders to his workers. Apparently, there was no in between for the red-headed man: he was either grumbling and grunting, or yelling. While he was loud, or grumbly, Rusty never seemed angry. Noah liked that about him.
"I've never been much for music, myself." Noah shrugged a little, and moved forward to walk away from Rusty's shop. He was confident that the redhead would send his workers with the haul of supplies Glas had ordered. "You ever make any weapons?" He turned to watch the younger man as they walked through the streets filled with other vendors. He felt like the Westfall was a deer -- any slight movement or noise that was just too much would send him flying off, back to the shelter of what he knew. "I mean, like bows and arrows and such?" Because if he had, Noah might be interested in some trade today, too.
"You tell me if any of those guys give you any shit when you go back to fix that table." Noah said, though it was with a jesting tone, mostly to see how Glas would react to such an idea.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
There’s a nod, a slight jump when Rusty calls out from the back room. Already he realizes that it’s unlikely the man will see the nod, but he can hear the boys moving to begin to move the items over. It gives Glas time to focus on Noah and the questions offered – even if the young crafter doesn’t meet the other man’s gaze. He still looks at Noah, he just doesn’t look anywhere near his face.
The question gives him something else to focus on and Glas nods to that. “I-I have before… Yes.” He says quietly, chewing on the inside of his cheek, lifting a hand up to push a bit of blonde hair from his face, nodding again as the question gathers some clarification. But there’s some bit of surprise that crosses his face, his hands immediately finding the note again and fiddling with it to have something to do with it.
“O-okay.” He manages, head lowering a small amount, ducked between his shoulders almost as he considers it. “D-do you think… they will?” He asks, nothing had let him consider that option and suddenly he wonders if maybe he should just make a new table by scratch and have it delivered rather than face that possibility.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah's observation was correct: Glas was much like a deer. He was skittish and unsure and wide-eyed. He did not make eye contact as Noah moved away from the woodshop, and the hunter took note of that. He wanted to help this younger man, his fellow Halovian, but the way that Glas's confidence did not increase in their time in the market made Noah worry a little. In Halo, you had to have some balls.
"I am hoping to visit the gods and ask for an enchantment on a bow." The statement was simple, as the majority of Noah's statements were. He did not hide behind flowery, superfluous words. He did not speak in riddles. He said what he meant and meant what he said. "Maybe you could craft me something special for that." he gave Glas a slight smile, trying to pour some of his own confidence through it and give it to the younger blonde.
"Ah, yeah, they might." He shrugged, "They won't try to be mean, but some people don't know how to have fun without being an asshole."
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
It would help if he didn’t have to be constantly aware of trying to appease his parents. It would help immensely if he didn’t have to deal with people after so long of being cooped up and secluded in his childhood home because of that disastrous cannibal attack that had left half his face marred and scarred. It would help if he had the ability to do anything else, like healing when he’d wanted to instead of being born with life drain.
It was all a mess, really. But he was trying, even however painful it was.
His verdant gaze slips toward Noah as he focuses on the comments given – staring at the man’s chest and anywhere but his face. “W-Will they answer you?” He asks, unsteady and unsure. The gods had never answered his prayers, and Glas had simply just stopped going because of it. But regardless, if they did answer Noah, it is something he could do. “S-Sure.” Already the young crafter is thinking of ways to fix something, to make it better and enhance on it, make it easier.
But the question of getting made fun of has him frowning a small amount. His gaze averts, and he sighs quietly to himself, wondering if it’s even worth mentioning to Noah or if the other man had already heard about it. “I-I-I wasn’t the s-same… After the c-c-cannibal attack.” His gaze remains on the ground in the way he walks, spending a moment to chew on the inside of his cheek.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Aside from his initial attuning, Noah had never visited a shrine before. "I'm not sure. I haven't been a very devout person in my life. They might not." He shrugged some, and his lips curled a bit downward. "But I think I would like to try." Noah had duties and responsibilities in this world, and after learning of Weaver's quest to enchant her scythe, he had decided it might be a wise idea to seek help from the gods. He wasn't sure if he would have to apologize for his lack of piety, but he was sure that the gods might not instantly love him because of it. Gods were vain at their core, and had a desire to be worshiped. From his general ignorance, he at least knew that.
Noah's lips felt heavier and his frown deepened when Glas went on to talk about his history. Noah knew the story, knew of the attack, but the outcomes and the aftermath was where his understanding had ceased. The Westfalls had been generally private, and the fact that Noah had not interacted with Glas before today was a testament to that. "I understand." The words were true -- he did understand. While many people said that as a way to relay sympathy, Noah felt it. "A few weeks ago I had my own encounter, while out on a hunt." His stomach twisted as he thought of it, the flashbacks of his arrows sinking deep into the man, and the wail of his lady companion. "Only one of us made it out alive."
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
“Y-y-you’ll p-probably have more luck than I d-do.” Glas says as honestly as he can. He’s abandoned, through and through, abandoned and forgotten by the gods. At least from what he understands of Noah’s family, he hasn’t heard of them having magic. Or if he has heard about it, he must’ve forgotten. It wasn’t too important to him before now, not when he was squirreled away and protected in his life ever since the attack. Perhaps that’s for the best. “G-Good luck.” He offers instead, looking down and forward to the path they wind through the city.
And he explains briefly that he wasn’t the same when he was attacked, a frown reaching his face, pulling on the scar edged on the corner of his lip and up half his face. But when Noah tells him he understands, explains that he too had an encounter, Glas does manage to glance over at Noah with wide eyes even however briefly it lasts, before he looks down again. “They… Took me. At night when we camped out. I-I-I was sleeping. And t-the next thing… I remember… Is g-g-garbled words… An-And… A knife in m-my m-m-mouth.” He pauses, taking a deep breath to try and quell the stuttering.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
The path they moved on through the city was starting to dwindle with activity. It was nearly evening, and most people were finding their way back to their homes and families and looking forward to warm meals to fill their bellies. "You're a magic user, then, an abandoned?" He had never liked the term for them, even now as he spoke it and looked over towards Glas. He had always hated referring to Weaver as abandoned, knowing that it was not her identity. "I'm an attuned. A reindeer." He shrugged a little bit, "It really has its perks in this cold."
As Glas continued talking about his attack, Noah listened without interrupting. He had known of the attack, faintly, but never the details. His stomach rolled over and tightened as Glas described what had happened. "That's a horrible thing for a child to go through. I'm sorry, Glas. That should not have happened." He reached out to grasp the younger man's shoulder, and give a squeeze. "I am thankful that my encounter with them was not as personal..." Noah had killed the cannibal from so far away that the hunter had not even seen his face. Part of him, in this moment, hoped that it was one of the bastards that staged this attack on the Westfalls. At least then he could have some relief from the fact that he had murdered someone.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
“Y-Yeah.” He finally manages, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead. “L-L-Life drain.” Another deep inhale to try and keep his stuttering at a minimum. But he remains quiet, listening as Noah mentions that he’s attuned – just as he had thought. But a reindeer shift? That was useful, and he nods a small amount, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. Another deep inhale passes between his lips before he continues. “I’m sure.” It’s the easiest answer to keep from stuttering, but the usefulness of it sounds as if Noah couldn’t have gotten a better shift for a place like this.
But whatever brief smile was there, fades immediately as he recalls the cannibals, and his heart slightly thunders in his chest, head slightly ducked as he focuses on the steps ahead of him. “I-I-It shouldn’t have… But… It’s okay.” He says after a moment, taking the words slow to make it easier to say. “T-They’re… Like us.. But not.” Another frown crosses his face, pulling at the scar. “A-a-and I can’t… Even get the scar… Healed with m-magic.” Because, again, life drain. So it was what it was at the end of the day, and he can’t help but to let it leak into some of the anxieties he already has.
The scar was a sign, his awkwardness and discomfort also adding to ward people away. He should be used to it by now.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah didn't have much else to say about the attack. Living in a world where murderers and cannibals existed just outside their doors made him feel uneasy. To be drawn, gods know how, to such a way of life, was utterly wretched. his stomach flipped thinking about how they attacked Glas and his family, and his own killing of one in the tundra. He let out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding in, before turning briefly to Glas and stopping. A broad, strong hand reached out and rested on the younger, smaller shoulder. "It's okay to carry the scar. You're not the only one with such a mark." He was, however, the only one that Noah could recall that had received such a scar from a cannibal and not from a wolf or a ursur. Somehow, it was different, and even Noah knew that. But seeing this kid--this young man--live his life and navigate his own streets in the manner that he did made Noah want to give him all of his own confidence.
"I'll have the firewood you need delivered to your house when I see those boys that delivered mine." He finally said, giving Glas's shoulder one last squeeze before letting go. "For now, I've got some more errands to run that will take me outside of Snowcloak." He turned to head towards the gates, but hesitated, "If you ever need anything, I'm easy to find." With that, Noah turned fully and headed away, adjusting his clothes and his gear for optimal warmth as he headed out to check a few of his traps.
He meant what he said -- if Glas needed anything, Noah would be there.
-FIN
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
