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!
Too much had been going on lately. Between the incident with the cannibal, his less than stellar encounters with people in Torchline - his altercation with Sunjata especially - and the curses laid upon him when he tried to pray, Korbin felt a tangled mess inside. Change wasn't a switch to flip that suddenly changed ones mood and behaviour, it was a series of events that tripped you up, punched you in the gut, shook and rattled the foundations of everything that once seemed permanent.
Korbin's foothold in the world wasn't very big as it was. Now that it seemed to be crumbling away, he was left with the unpleasant sensation of teetering on a brink, somewhere between comfortable stagnation and a terrifying unknown that might be bliss or pain beyond imagining.
And he was scared.
Korbin took it out on a stack of firewood. There was ever a need for logs to be split, and it gave him something to do as he brooded over the injustice of it all. It wasn't his pile of logs, just a favor done for an acquaintance, but that didn't matter. Stripped down to the minimum amount of layers in the sunny, balmy temperature of -30C, he swung the axe with an easy ferocity that suggested he wished for some target aside from wood to sink the edge into.
Change was perhaps, the one constant in life that was determined to fuck everyone up.
I don't think anyone handles it well, to be honest. Humans evolved by finding patterns in things, by learning the predictabilities in life, by exploiting those predictabilities. It really is no wonder then that as soon as change happens, the majority of people react… poorly.
Some adapt quicker than others, and ultimately, if one doesn't adapt, one is likely not to survive for long. At least, this was the case in times of the stone age, but I think it can be applied to current circumstances as well. We all cope using different techniques, some more effective than others - some more healthy than others too.
I know little of what is going on in Korbin's life. All I know is that without him, I would probably be dead. So when I see him as I wander through Snowcloak, I make an effort to approach in his line of sight, so as not to startle him.
I am Attuned, but I am not yet practiced enough in sending my thoughts to others that I can do so whilst in my human form, and I can only assume that Korbin's deafness is a part of him - permanent, unchanging. I wave as I approach, a friendly smile on my face, ignoring any sullen glares the kid might give me - teenagers.
I look at the task he has seemingly set for himself, and, without any further prompting, shed my heavier layers and fetch a spare axe that was nearby. I wasn't well practiced with splitting firewood, though my recent expedition to the frozen southern land of my homeworld, and then to Halo, soon cured me of that particular ignorance.
He really was not in the mood for company. Chulane's approach and friendly wave did indeed earn him a glance from eyes that looked as dark and unwelcoming as the raven's had been. More so, perhaps, because the bird couldn't scowl with dark eyebrows pressing down or lips thinning in displeasure.
Fortunately, he was very much spared from the inevitable small talk. Curses could be useful too, it seemed. If it weren't for the constant hiccups that plagued him too, he could almost get used to it.
He pointedly ignored Chulane when the other guy stripped down and went for his own axe. Korbin said nothing and made no move to engage with the other; if anything, his ferocity with the axe just increased, with the added gnawing of unwelcome company to fuel his irritation.
If looks could kill, well, I'd certainly be dead. This kid has a glare on him, and though he is deaf and wilfully mute, he gets his message across. I smile back, shrugging and continuing on with the work I volunteered for.
A hiccough escapes the boy, and I can feel the tension in the air pick up. Though he wouldn't have heard me even if I did so, I make an effort not to react, not to laugh - though it is fucking hilarious, really. Oh the mighty forever-pissed Korbin, struck down in the midst of his temper tantrum by hiccoughs - fucking perfect.
I keep working, choosing to simply follow suit and put my back into the work - I still don't know why we're doing it, or who for, but sometimes that's all that was needed - some sweat, some aching muscles, and some silence - I wasn't about to push any agenda on the boy, any expectations. I didn't know the half of what his life contained, and though I'd be glad to know if the boy was glad to share, one didn't just poke an angry axe-wielding deaf teenager to reveal their life story without some forethought.
The pile of wood dwindles further and further - we will surely expire our supply soon enough - what will the kid do then, I wonder?
The man could laugh all he wanted. Korbin had become quite good at ignoring the sniggering that went on behind his back because of the hiccups. The humiliation was so total at this point that he had almost risen above it... almost. But like every teenager in existence, his self-esteem was a bit fragile, and it still fractured unexpectedly at times.
He tried to ignore the presence of the man in the same way. Korbin just kept working on the dwindling supply of logs, and when he split the last one, he switched from chopping the wood into stacking it in a nearby shed.
It required no conversation. Actually, it didn't even require assistance, and he kept turning his back on Chulane in a rather pointed way, hoping the guy would take the hint and wander off to bug someone else.
That trait in itself was admirable. But he was also stubborn, sullen and seemingly tunnel-visioned.
I followed his actions, assisting in moving the wood now as well. But this job too would not take long, and I wonder if the raven-boy would simply fly away the first chance he got once all the tasks in this setting were 'complete'.
Motions pause, as I rifle through my coat pockets for a few items. First, a waterbag, and second, some crackers. I take a deep drink, replenishing my body of the fluids it no doubt lost through sweat and breath, and then chew on half a cracker, before forcing myself directly in Korbin's path. He could try and wander around, but he'd find my presence there. I did my best to make eye contact with him, and with a friendly smile, offered him a full cracker and my waterskin.
In another part of time, Korbin might have enjoyed this. In another life, he would have spent the time splitting and stacking firewood with his brother, and everything would have been fine. But every second of this just served to remind him of what he had lost, and the memories tore at him. They brought no joy or happiness, only pain; reminded him of an absence that was so visceral he could almost feel the void open up inside.
With two pairs of hands the stacking was quickly done, and when Korbin straightened up from the work to put the axe away, he caught the offer off food and drink. The young man gave Chulane a flat, unfriendly look, then shook his head and stepped around him to stalk off onto the street and back towards home.
He'd thought that would be it, but before long he felt the presence of someone at his back, and turned. Seeing Chulane still following him, Korbin bit his teeth together, in a poor attempt at keeping his irritation in check.
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly, with a voice that was hoarse and rough from lack of use. The pitch was a bit off, the volume fluctuating strangely as he couldn't hear himself - nor could he hear a response.
The boy was determined - so was I. I knew that I was being a pest, that my presence wasn't wanted, but something told me that it might be needed. So I followed him, I persisted, and finally, finally, I got a response, albeit harsh and abrupt, it was a response nonetheless.
After all, if the boy truly wanted nothing to do with me, he wouldn't have looked back, right?
Right?
I think it's the first time I've ever heard his voice out loud, and it surprises me, though I had heard his attuned-voice before, I don't think I was expecting to hear him ever actually speak. I mask my surprise with my ever-present grin, shrugging a hopeless look before promptly shifting to my leopard form so I could communicate in a way he would be sure to hear.
The shift rippled over me, a sensation I don't think I'll ever fully get used to, though perhaps time and practice would tell.
"I was hoping you might know a good place to eat… I could use some company," my tones are pushed towards him, my feline frame sitting quietly before him, tail twitching as it wraps about my paws. I look up at him with my glacial eyes, a quiet hope also permeating through the bond.
It was the smile that annoyed him, Korbin decided. The puppy-like, excited grin and the happy blue eyes that looked at him like he was somehow the reason the sun had risen today. It made his skin crawl. Even more so when the guy shifted and he felt that hope sneak down the bond.
Pressing his lips together, he turned and pointed down along the street. "The old tavern is to streets down that way. There's an eatery two side-streets up to the right from there, and," he added, changing direction with his hand to point across the busy market square, "the Kraai is on the other side of the fair. Your choice."
Dropping his hand back to shove it down a pocket, he turned and started walking again, heading away from all of the options. He was, still, planning to go home.
And so I was rejected, turned away, given instructions to continue onwards on my own.
I could do it. I could turn down the street and let the boy leave the scene. I didn't want to do that.
Korbin was clearly going through something. Something more than just teenage angst (though I had no doubt that didn't help.)
I wanted to help.
The kid was responsible for my being here, for my surviving the transition through the portal, to this world. Hell, he even was the one who gave me a heads up on accommodations that would accept me. I owed him.
And so I continued to sit, allowing the feeling of dejection, of sadness and isolations to swell up, to squash out the hope, to be detectable through the attuned bond, if he was still listening (if he had a choice?) it wasn't hard to let these emotions stir - they had been within me since my arrival here, only I have maintained a firm grip on them. I still held a grip on them, held them back, unwilling to let the true tsunami of emotions flow through the floodgates just yet, trying to remain strong, so as not to overwhelm those near me just as I feel almost constantly overwhelmed myself.
I sit, my gaze drifting down to look at my paws, otherwise unmoving.
The guy could just as well have thrown a bucket of ice water over Korbin. He stopped dead, gasping and shuddering as the surge of emotion washed over him, mingling and merging with his own like they'd always been his.
"Stop that!" he hissed over a shoulder, croaky voice even hoarser now, as he suddenly had to fight with a storm of emotion surging and swelling within. Glancing back, he saw the big cat just sit there on the street, gazing at him... It made his skin crawl. There was an impulse to kick after it, throw something, make it yowl and give up and scurry off to where it came from. Anywhere but here.
It made him sick, to feel how close he was to give in to that.
"Leave me the fuck alone!" he snapped, somewhat irrationally, and spun back to stalk off the way he'd been intending to go. Home. Where no one would bother him, and he couldn't bother anyone else.
It permeates all around me, this cloud of emotion, this fog, and I have almost resigned myself to spending another afternoon alone, when the boy throws his acidic words over his shoulder at me. They hit true and hard, and I flinch, mentally and physically, as he orders me to stop - and I do try, I rein in the torment, the depression, the loneliness, I pack it away safely within myself once more. Only it is not completely held - it is as if it has been temporarily muted, muffled, still definitively there but just ignored, shunned.
He shouts again, his words even harsher, his motions jarring and sudden, his tones demanding and direct. He hates me, I am sure, hates me for only trying to be present, to reach out and help. I do not know what exactly I am helping him with - but I am a doctor, it is in my nature to try and try and keep trying until all hope is lost, until the last breath and the last heartbeat leaves the body. This boy is still very much alive but he does not seem keen on living that life.
"Please," the thought echoes from my mind, a soft yet persistent plea, a final effort before I do indeed proceed this day alone.
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
He only had himself to blame, really. Korbin had brought this person to the Citadel, and now he payed the price for if. You'd think he'd have done his samaritan duty already, that he could just wash his hands off the guy and go back to doing whatever he'd been doing before.
But apparently, he wasn't allowed to.
Korbin shimmered and shifted, the tall young man fading into raven wings meant to bring him off faster than his legs could manage. But he'd gotten all of a few feet when the words reached him again, the plea soft and annoying, grating at his senses. Stirring up shit in his soul the raven didn't want to feel.
It changed direction, flew up on a nearby rooftop and turned, wings only half folded as it stared balefully down on the feline.
"Why are you following me? Don't you have someone else to pester?" It was only barely civil, delivered with a half-open beak and a vicious hiss. Oh, he knew he was being rude - mean, even - but it felt good to lash out. For a moment, at least; then it only made him feel worse.
It was Korbin's doing, my arriving here, my surviving here, really. And that was why I persisted, that was why I lingered and sent out a final plea, a last attempt, to see if I could break through, if I could receive something other than the scornful, angsty, angry teenage woes thrown at me.
Well, I received more woes, but at least he stopped walking away from me. Feathers had cloaked him, transformed him once more, and he instead turned and threw the questions at me, his beady eyes boring into me, his stance aggressive and cruel - very different to the raven I met on the tundra, but then, this wasn't just a raven.
"No," I replied simply, succinctly, still maintaining control over those emotions that would try to break free, to flood the attuned bond, to overwhelm me. No, I had no others, though I had made acquaintances and learned a great deal, I had none who were friends, no family who I could by default return home to. That was why I wandered, why I aimlessly let myself run into and cling to any friendly face that appeared - and it seemed, even if the face was unfriendly, I still pestered and clung.
I asked nothing else of him, and did not elaborate any further on my answer. Perhaps the silence would explain the solitude that fills my soul.
