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!
”We might,” she agrees. ”But we can certainly try our best. That should be enough to appease them…” It’s not as if she could grow trees. Wouldn’t that be useful magic? Growing trees in the middle of a tundra. ”We do have a whole lot of debris we can burn. Some of it will light if we dry it out.” Not everything could be used as firewood, but certainly the gate that had been destroyed, among other things.
She laughs slightly at the mention of holding Loren back. ”Do you really think he will stop just because I tell him to? Neither will you, for that matter.” What a council she has formed. Two of them will only sort of listen to her, and she has no idea how Morgan will react to her decisions yet. ”Though I have asked nothing of him, as of yet.” He knew his job, and she hardly needed to tell him it was his responsibility to tend to the sick and wounded above all else. Another magic she needed to work on, so she could be of more use.
Look at that, there is the crafty brother she knows. ”Not a bad idea. I’ll have to see how my conversation goes with him. I am not sure he will be keen on helping Halo anymore, but we’ll see.” She did like Neron. He was a fool, yes, but until this particular mistake, he really had not been a terrible Warden. But ah, aren’t all Warden’s of Halo short lived? Yes, she knows exactly what that means for her.
”I assume they know, as Zariah’s reputation in the Grounds is far from stellar, and Torchline is led by a man who once lived in the Grounds. That said, I still imagine I will need to speak with both of them.” Though there was little she could do now. She could send a letter, but there was no guarantee it would get there. She’d rather be certain that the message gets delivered. ”Are there any options I am not thinking of?” She doubts it, but still, it is worth asking.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
Again, Korbin nodded agreement. There were many things they could do, but the preferable one would be to dig up the stores they already had, and salvage other lumber for tasks better suited. Their lack of resources was a clear downside here, as was the hostile weather; much would be impossible to undertake until Flowerbirth, when the temperatures became less deadly.
He huffed a quiet laugh at her when she implied he was unlikely to do as she said. "I don't know about Loren, but I'm definitely going to question your decisions every step of the way. In private," he added. "But if you give me an order as the Warden? I will listen, Weaver." He might not like it, but they'd had that conversation already. Korbin didn't expect to like all the things he was set to do, and he was fully prepared to face those situations when they arose. Oh, he might be a lot happier if she actually listened to him, but in the end, she was the Warden. He was... well, what was he going to be?
"What exactly will be my responsibilities?" he asked, tapping his fingers against the arm-rest of the chair. "Better rein me in, or I'll be poking my nose into everyone's business." He knew himself well enough to say that much right away.
Korbin took some time to consider other alternatives to the Launceleyn problem. Eventually, he shrugged. "I can think of a number of nasty uses you might put them to. Clear out Whitebrim and restore it to Citadel rule, find out more about those who attacked us, that sort of thing. But in the end, I don't think you can afford to be lenient with either of them. Neron might be tolerated here, if he isn't given power anymore, but Zariah will have to go." Noah's attitude, as shown the previous night, was one that would be shared by many.
Deepfrost was not the time for anything like this to happen. She could not send anyone outside to rebuild except for small things. Homes with minimal damage could be repaired. Korbin could lead a group to retrieve supplies from the rubble of the Palace. But proper rebuilding would need to wait, particularly given that Halo had just lost two of the handful of people capable of surviving in the cold. Honestly, maybe while Neron and Zariah were stuck here with them anyway, she would put them to work. They could help rebuild under the watchful eye of the guards.
”And you may, in private,” she agrees, a slightly amused gleam in her eyes. She does not need to remind her brother that he does not get to ignore her in public. In the end, though she respected his opinion, she was Warden (that is really weird). It would not do to have her cabinet undermining her authority in front of others. She trusts he understands this.
The topic turns instead to what she wants of him, and she nods. ”The daily running of Halo. While I am busy playing at politics,” she drags on the word slightly, already annoyed by all the talking, ”you get to make sure things continue smoothly. I expect us to talk every morning and you to tell me what’s on the agenda for that day, what I should be paying attention to, what you need me to deal with or vice versa.” She pauses, giving him a minute, because she is asking a lot of him. ”I am basically giving you permission to butt your nose in everyone’s business, but don’t be an overbearing ass about it or I will demote you.” Which isn’t an empty threat, and he should know it.
She nods, Korbin echoing her own thoughts about Neron and Zariah. ”I am pretty sure Morgan will not tolerate Neron, and there must be others who agree. Even if I do not technically exile him, I do not think I can stop any Halovian from doing as they please should he return.” Can’t, because she is not fool enough to think that people of Halo would listen to her unquestioningly.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
It was a lot, and Korbin sat stunned when he realized the full extent of the burden she was heaping on him. The tone his sister used was new - curt and commanding in a way he had only really heard out on hunts - but his response to it was a straightening of the back, a lifting of the chin. Like he'd only been waiting his whole life to finally hear these exact words. "Like an overseer, of sorts, you mean? That's... alright. I'll do it." He looked immensely proud, to be so trusted, and it was with great difficulty he held back a grin.
"I'll save the overbearing jerk attitude for when it's needed," he promised, mouth twitching with a desire to smile. "Possibly it'll be difficult with Loren, but... I think I'll try to talk
with him. Maybe we can work things out a bit better." Korbin still didn't think he had done anything wrong in his arguments with the healer, but it would be good if they found some middle ground... Somewhere between the gushy best friends that the former Launceleyn seemed to want, and the complete lack of interaction that Korbin really would prefer. Neither would get what they wanted, and it would be better for Weaver if they at least spoke civilly.
As Weaver kept spinning on the matter of Neron, Korbin nodded. "That said, we're going to need every hand we can find to get things back to normal," he mused. "And... I suppose you know this already, but Ascended don't eat food like us. What... are you going to do about that? Let him snack on his guards?" His grimace was uncomfortable; the idea of drinking blood - or giving it up for someone else's sustenance - was as unpleasant to him as the knowledge of what came along with that bite. He very much doubted that anyone would want to get that close to the Hailstorm.
It is strange how easily this comes to her. How easily she can slip into the role that has been given (taken?). Her tone of voice is one she has used on hunts, yes, but it comes to her now without thought. Commanding and without hesitation. You cannot hesitate in the Tundra (and doesn’t she know that first hand). You cannot question your leader on a hunt. This, in some ways, is no different. Only it was far more intricate, with a million details to keep track of, a million repercussions to consider. Her entire life would be dedicated to trying to stay one step ahead of her potential enemies. This is why she needs him to deal with all the rest.
”Overseer feels like a fitting title. It is yours. Do not prove me wrong in my choice, brother.” Though she may choose her family to help them lead, she would not choose them blindly. Isn’t that what got them here in the first place?
Weaver nods at the mention of Loren. ”Sometimes peace requires biting your own pride down. You may find you need to apologize even if you don’t think you do.” Sometimes you simply have to be the one to cave, even when it hurts. Sometimes the benefit of doing so outweighed the momentary loss of pride.
One finger goes to the top of her knife, resting it there, not particularly concerned if she pricks the skin. She considers her brother for a moment with a soft exhale. ”I am aware. I am not particularly sure. I suppose I need to find out how long he can go without feeding. I do not want to let him in the Tundra, so he cannot get to the shrine in the Fangs. I will...I will figure something out.” Honestly, she would let him feed on her if it came to it, but she won’t tell anyone that. Maybe Wessex could offer some suggestions. She’d need to talk to the demi-goddess soon. ”I have a mind to send a letter to Wessex. She is the Ascended family head, so to speak.”
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
"I won't," he told her. Overseer... he turned the word over in his head, and found that he rather liked the sound of it, even if it was strange to not just be Korbin Hale anymore. It had always been all he needed; he'd told Loren before that he didn't need a title to do what was necessary. It was true now, too, but... If Weaver thought he could do with one, who was he to complain? And if he preened a little under the weight of it, who could blame him. Overseer of the Citadel was a far sight further than he'd ever hoped to climb in life.
Any other time, the new Overseer might have scoffed at his sister's advice. But now, Korbin only nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that... but he would do what was necessary to make sure the people around Weaver stood united. They would need it, if this shift in power was to go down smoothly and last longer than a season.
"I'll leave that headache to you," he said generously, and stifled a yawn behind a closed fist. "If I hear anything about the person, I'll send them your way. Is there anything else that's urgent?"
Not that he was in a hurry to break up, but Korbin was in danger of falling asleep where he sat. He could stay awake longer if needed, but... his Warden had ordered him to sleep. This was one instruction he would not argue with.
She didn’t need any titles either, and yet she found herself wearing one. Warden of the Citadel. How strange. How wrong. But also, it felt a little right. There had been no doubt when she’d tossed her name in against Morgan that she should. Though she would not have been upset to lose to Morgan, how it had warmed her heart to see her people stand around her. Maybe that is the only thing she has going for her in this role, and understanding of what it is like to be them.
She is not Morgan. She has never spent three years living in the Tundra simply to prove she could. No one can doubt that Morgan is more than capable of just about anything. But Weaver has spent her life living with the people of Snowcloak. She knows their struggles and their dreams, she knows what it's like to hunt and to drink with them. She knows them in a way Morgan, raised as the daughter of the previous Captain or as a wild thing in the Tundra, does not.
That may be all she has, but perhaps it is enough. They can only hope.
”No, that is all for now. Get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on things.” She gives him a nod but then stands, coming around to embrace her brother once more before letting him go to get the rest he needs.
