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!
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
He listens to Loren’s reassurances, and while they make sense to him and are something he might consider, it isn’t him that he worries about. It’s his family and what they might say if he tries to branch out and do the things he wanted to do. So he nods to Loren with that, a consideration though he likely won’t take the summoner up on it.
And then the whole unicorn thing happens and Glas finds himself pressed against the wall, cheeks aflame and the flight instinct incredibly strong within him, begging him to move and leave and do anything other than this. But the unicorn disappears and he can hardly hear Loren over the roaring in his ears, panting slightly despite the tightness of his throat. “No tha-thank you.” He says again, a bit rougher than intentionally.
At the continued distress on Glas' features, Loren bit his lip. When the craftsman once again turned down healing, the healer sighed, but reluctantly nodded. "Alright." For a moment, he study the other man's features. "Let me know if you change your mind?" The Launceleyn's voice was plaintive and hopeful.
Taking another sip of his tea, he stood up and headed back towards the tea cabinet. Taking out some of the chamomile, he grabbed a small vial of powder as well, and returned to the table. "I am going to insist that you drink a cup of this tea, along with a dash of this powder, every night." He placed both in front of Glas.
"It's just something that is going to help you with the nerves. I promise." Loren's voice was kind, yes, but also firm.
The powder was something that calmed the mind and reduced stress, only of the remedies he'd read about while the Medical College had still been open. It unfortunately made people drowsy, which is why he was instructing the craftsman to take it at night. Still, a few good nights' sleep would likely help the poor man.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
There’s another slight nod given to Loren before the whole ordeal falls though, and when it does and Loren stands from the chair, Glas nears his own cup of tea again – consistently glancing toward the space that the unicorn had recently been, before he bites down on the inside of his cheek hard. Loren returns, and Glas shifts his gaze toward the summoner’s hands as he places the powder down on the table in front of him.
For a moment he simply stares at it, awkwardly choosing to decide whether or not he wants to take them – or if his parents would even let him attempt to take an option of healing from this Outlander. Ah well, at the very least he can claim that he did try it and saw if it worked or not. Trembling hands reach out and take the tea and the powder, moving it to the bag with the rest of the supplies that Loren offered earlier. “Okay.” He says quietly, gnawing momentarily on the inside of his cheek again before something hits him.
And he looks up, actually looking up, with bright green eyes to Loren’s own blues, his blonde brows furrowed. “Why…?” He asks, wanting the answer. Why would Loren go through all of this trouble to help him when it didn’t matter in the end?
Nodding at Glas' agreement, Loren picked up his tea to take another sip. However, as the craftsman spoke up again, the healer paused with the cup halfway to his lips. Sighing, he set it down again.
Slipping his fingers together, he placed his hands on the table. Leaning forward a bit, he met the other man's gaze squarely, or at least would try. As the Launceleyn did, he smiled. "Because it's my job to make sure that everyone in Halo is healthy and well, both physically and mentally."
Then he took a deep breath. "And because I was once a very, very nervous young man who felt deeply uncomfortable around others because of my past." He gave Glas an understanding look.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
The answer is far more generic than Glas was expecting, but he wasn’t sure what other kind of answer he wanted. The fact that it was ducking noticeable, the fact that it made other people confused, all of that wrapped into one? Perhaps this was just Loren’s attempt at trying to make his life better, but even Glas can’t imagine what that might be like. It’s a fine line for him to be the needed child versus the one that abandons his post at the workshop to go and venture out elsewhere. And he’s not sure where that leaves him.
Trembling fingers clutch the bag, and his gaze drifts away from Loren’s again to focus on the cup of tea in front of him. “I-It’s not my past.” That’s not why he’s uncomfortable. Sure, the scar adds to it a small amount, but it wasn’t the sole reason he was panicky about dealing with people. “I just… I have to know… How to react to people and I don’t.” People are unpredictable, the solace of working with wood and glass was that it was always the same, always the same movements required to get different end products. It was comfortable. And this certainly wasn’t.
As Glas protested that it wasn't his past that was the problem, Loren hummed noncommittally. Sipping from his tea, his eyes flicked to the way the craftsman clutched the medical kit as if it was a lifeline. The healer pressed his lips together and sighed, but didn't respond to that particular claim.
As the other man went on to explain that people were the problem, the Launceleyn raised his eyebrows slightly. "What makes you think you don't know how to react to people?" He tilted his head to one side, giving Glas a searching look. "There's no one right way to react." Again, Loren tried to speak in as gentle and as reassuring a voice as he could.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
Maybe it’s the fact that Loren chips away at the exterior of Glas so much that he lets those discomforting thoughts loose, out in the open, for someone else other than his own ears to hear. Perhaps it’s just simply the wrong place at the wrong time, and he feels somewhat bad for Loren having to put up with himself, that when the question is aired and Loren offers a response so similar to ‘there’s no wrong answer’ that it causes a gleam of frustration to linger in the back of Glas’ mind.
“There is...” He manages, looking down to the cup once more, brows furrow together as he figures out how to say it. “Because if you… If you don’t react right then people treat you different. They get... Like they think they need to act different to get you to stop.” Like you need fixing. Like you need to follow through with the status quo of everything else. He doesn’t think his blabbering makes sense, but it is what it is.
Eyes narrowing slightly, Loren sighed. "Then those people are shitty people." He tilted his head slightly to one side as he gave Glas another one of those reassuring smiles. "Don't ever let someone tell you how you should be acting. No one can do that but you." The healer's voice was firm about that.
However, his tone and expression both softened. "The reason I'm offering my help is because I think you'd be happier and more comfortable if you were less stressed." If the craftsman chose to refuse that, that was his choice. The Launceleyn took another long sip of his tea as he waited for the other man to process and respond to all that.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
He wonders if Loren can see the slight comparison with how Glas has described most people to him. And his head ducks a small amount under the narrowed gaze, feeling almost some frustration with it despite the fact that Loren’s words are supposed to be encouraging. He knows he shouldn’t care, but he does, and that’s a fact he doesn’t know whether or not it’ll change. Ever. So he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, glancing up briefly to look at Loren when he speaks, taking a moment to take a good look at the summoner once more.
And then his green gaze drops to the cup and he takes a sip, one hand still on the medical pack just to have something in his hands. “I’m happiest at the shop.” He manages, surprisingly, without stuttering before he frowns lightly and tilts his head to look at the cup. It’s because there he can be by himself, he can focus on the work he has to do and not worry about anyone else judging him. It was a place with things that he was good at, unlike this.
As Glas mentioned that he was most comfortable at the workshop, Loren nodded. Taking a sip of his tea, he hummed thoughtfully. As he did, he rolled the cup between his palms. "If you wanted to, couldn't you stay at the shop full time? Someone else can make these deliveries, can't they?" He frowned a bit, since that seemed simple enough.
Astra, still not quite trusting the craftsman, nevertheless rose from her corner. Trotting over to the healer, she hopped up into his lap. Smiling down at her, he began to give her reassuring pets. Under his care and his regard, she settled further, her earlier unease with the other man disappearing even more.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
“I… Uh, no.” Well, he’d almost had it without tripping up. He frowns a bit deeper, scar on the side of his face twisting with the movement. “I have to take over… Meeting people.” He sighs, because his father’s health, while keeping him strong enough to work had slowed with each subsequent Deepfrost since the accident, and he wanted nothing more than to retire and have Glas figure it out and keep it running. But he can’t actively say that, not with how he can hardly string the words together at the moment.
His frustration is evident, lifting the glass cup and draining the rest of the tea before it got cold, and setting it back down on the table as he mulls it over. “I have to keep the shop.” Keep it running, keep it working. It was all his parents wanted of him when they knew they couldn’t fully fix him. So surely, surely that was the least Glas could do, even if he didn’t want to?
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Loren gave Glas a questioning look. "Why? Can't you hire someone to do that?" It was clear that the healer didn't understand the problem. "If you need help finding someone, I can put the word out." Indeed, his mind was already running through the people he knew who could pitch in.
As the craftsman finished his tea, the Launceleyn did same. Pouring himself another cup, he raised the pot, asking if the other man wanted more as well. However, Loren once again found himself frowning. "What do you mean keep the shop?" The answers Glas was giving the healer were almost maddeningly frustrating.
a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
“We, well… No. It’s the family shop.” He explains somewhat exasperated, blonde brows furrowing slightly in his own frustration before he sighs through his nose and stares at the empty cup, shaking his head no to Loren for more because he really should be going. And perhaps it’s his frustration that keeps his stutter from appearing, but he takes a deep inhale of breath and keeps his gaze trained on the cup. “I’m the only one. I don’t have siblings and there’s no other family members to help. It’s just me, and I have to take over the shop when my parents are gone.” It wouldn’t be the Westfall shop if there were no Westfalls, now would it?
He pushes back from the seat now and still remains clutching the bag in his hands, head ducked slightly as he looks over toward the entrance. “I should go, they’ll wonder why I took so long.” He pushes the blonde hair away from his face before nodding to Loren. “T-Thanks.”
Loren just stared at Glas uncomprehendingly. "So? It'll still be your family's shop even if you hire help. As the craftsman explained further, the healer's expression softened. "I understand. But...it sounds like it's a job that will take more than one person. And accepting assistance doesn't take anything away from you, nor is it a sign of weakness." He did his best to speak in as understanding and reassuring a tone as possible.
As the other man fled (there was no other word for it) the Launceleyn sighed under his breath. Then he smiled. "You're welcome. It was nice to meet you Glas. And don't forget your payment!" He scribbled the order authorizing the release of goods from the storerooms, and held it out for Glas.
Assuming the craftsman took it, Loren would remain seated in his chair, watching the other man depart. There was something sad in the healer's eyes, though he hid it carefully on the off chance the Glas looked back.
