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!
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
His rants were not uncommon, the young raven always had a lot to say. Plenty of opinions, full of thoughts, tales, songs and ideas. Once they were just happy and enthusiastic, but like everything else they had darkened over the past season. At least he was still communicating, even if it was mostly with her.
Unfortunately for Loren, he had shown up at the worst possible time, and became a welcome target for all that pent up ire and irritation. Just like Sunjata - and far more accessible - the Healer drew out all the worst things in Korbin, and whether that was because he really liked or really disliked the man even Korbin couldn't tell.
He did know, Weaver's response to his question was unexpected enough to actually shut him up. He just stared at her, dumbfounded.
Not for long, though.
"Seriously? Loren? He's a weedy pushover! Do you honestly think he'll be able to keep up with you?"
When his expression changed, it was into one of genuine concern. Oh, he wasn't happy about it being Loren of all people, but that was beside the point. Korbin was far more interested in her emotions, the honesty in her gaze, the fact that she was even telling him about it. It was unusual enough that it seemed serious. And much as he wanted to be happy for her... His sister was a strong woman. Smart, free, intelligent and not one to back down or have patience with bullshit. Not many people had the backbone to handle that; only gods knew that it took everything he had just to keep up with her, and certainly not these days.
Loren... did not strike him as the kind that would be able to push back enough to be her equal.
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
Korbin had made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to be pushed, and so she isn’t going to push. Well, not much, because honestly she’d be remiss in her role as sister if she didn’t kick him out of his comfort zone a little bit. He couldn’t just continue to wallow in himself so much that he failed to see what was going on around him. Loren needed a friend as much as Korbin did, whether Korbin liked it or not. The question was only whether or not Korbin would figure out how to open his frozen heart again, and she knows that will take time.
But really, he’d been so involved in himself that he’d missed the obvious. At least it felt obvious, though she did have a pretty good poker face. Still, she is surprised her brother has to ask why she keeps defending the Grand Healer. Maybe she shouldn’t be though, because he’s not wrong in his response. They are a highly unlikely pairing, and perhaps she’s as surprised by the way she feels as everyone else will be. Or maybe not. The only truly surprising thing was that she actually liked anyone at all.
Weaver just laughs at his response, not offended, but amused. Though he can’t hear it, he can certainly see the laugh, the way it crinkles her eyes and twists the corners of her mouth up. Weaver grabs the paper with a smirk. One, you are weedy pushover. Two, if that’s all you see in him, maybe you ought to look a little harder, brother. Three, I’m going to wear the pants in any relationship anyway. Two jokes in there, but still, all of it was true. Her brother was a weedy pushover, but he was so much more. Loren was also a weedy pushover, but he was so much more too. And really, she would absolutely wear the pants should she ever be in a proper relationship.
Though Loren had plenty to offer her, even if no one else saw it. Then again, Weaver usually sees what others do not. He tempers her, calms her fire without snuffing it out. He is her equal in a very different way. The eye of her storm, able to pull truth from her so damn easily as she pulls truth from him. It is easy to talk to him, easy to admit all the things she does not even tell her brother. Cannot tell her brother, really, for there are things he does not and should not know. After all, so much of her life has been shaped by Korbin, by who she needed to be for him. Though he has always worn how she has shaped him on his sleeve, Weaver doesn’t let him know. She doesn’t want him to feel guilty, or responsible, or anything else. But with Loren, she can be honest. She can be herself, and it is strange and freeing and beautiful.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
The look of outrage at being called weedy was not the least bit faked. He might be as lean as he was tall, and had some filling out to do on the width still, but weedy? No. Definitely not. As for being a pushover... he couldn't deny that. Not when she was involved at least... though Korbin did think he put up a good fight before caving to her whims.
"Fine. If that's really the kind of thing you like, then go for it. He can be your problem. I still have no interest in getting to know him, and I don't care how lonely he is or how horrible his childhood was. I'm not going to pretend to be nice when all I want to do around him is punch his teeth out."
Korbin smiled back at her, but it was grim and void of humour. She better not have hopes for pleasant family dinners with the guy, because that was not going to happen. Right now he was barely able to hold a civil conversation with Loren, and it was only because they had to work together.
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
Weaver laughs harder at his look of outrage. He absolutely was weedy, at least a little bit. Tall and lanky, with muscle that still needed to fill in. He was strong too, but so was Loren, even if he didn’t look it from the outside. She was rather aware, in fact, of just how strong he could be. She can’t help but remember just how easily he’d picked her up, and how much she hadn’t even minded.
Somehow his response still goes back to him though. She wants to be annoyed, because honestly, it might be nice if he was just happy for her for a minute. Or if he could just pretend to be be happy for a minute, as if maybe her finding something decent wasn’t such a terrible thing. But honestly, she’s mostly just glad he’s not screaming against her being interested in a Launceleyn Outlander. It could be worse, she supposes.
Have you tried to punch his teeth out yet? she scribbles. Maybe it would help if he did. Maybe he’d get some sense knocked into him.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
The egoism of circling back to himself wasn't intentional. Just another symptom of the problems the raven struggled with. When all your focus was turned inward to make sense of what happened with your own mind and soul, it became very difficult to look away, to empathize with those around. That empathy was under lock and key in Korbin anyway; don't see, don't feel, don't care, and maybe everyone would go away.
And they would. Eventually, they all would. Even the most ardent helper would give up after being pushed away enough times.
"No," he replied, at the question. It brought up memories of the time he had tried to offer a normal training session, only for it to go completely sideways. It was still humiliating, and he was not going to mention it. Korbin was in no mood to be laughed at, not over this.
"Brawling never helps anything. What's the point of even trying, when he'll just drop a dragon on me anyway? I would prefer to just not see the guy at all."
Korbin picked up the tools and turned back to the hide, to start working again. This conversation wasn't going anywhere, and he felt like they were about to go down another path of arguing, just when they'd come to some accord on the first issue.
All his fault, of course. It always was, because he refused to shut up, lie and pretend just to make her happy.
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
She’s the only one who won’t go away. Not ever. Despite it all, despite how hard he pushes, she will not go away. She’ll back up, she’ll give him the space he asks for, but she will not go away. Instead she will sigh, she will bite back retorts and refrain from rolling her eyes. Instead, she won’t call him on his shit or expect him to be anything but what he has become. And she will stay, for him. Because it has always been for him, even if he doesn’t know it.
He goes on to say how brawling never helps anything. She gives him a rather incredulous look, eyebrows raised, clearly disbelieving. She found that brawling fixed most everything, and when brawling failed, sex usually solved the other problems. Her brother didn’t seem all that likely to go for the latter though (and given how she felt about Loren, she would murder him for it besides), so that left only the former. I disagree she scribbles, but turns her attention back to the leather.
She finds the leather punch, beginning to stick holes in the edges so they can string it up to dry. They could hang it, but it was always better to stretch it taught and let the air hit it from every side, so even though it’s the harder method, she uses it anyway. They could spend all day stretching and scraping the thing, if they really wanted, but one glance at it shows that it’s ready for the next step anyway.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
The look she gave him made Korbin laugh, a breathless chuckle that shattered his grim look like so much ice. Of course she wouldn't see it that way. Probably because so many of the fights she were in could be solved that way. But right now, his issues started and ended with himself, and he couldn't punch his way out of that. When you came right down to it, Loren had done nothing wrong. He was just a trigger, a target, and Korbin could throw fists at the man for days and weeks, and it would not get them anywhere. He would still be seething internally at the end of the day, and only add sore knuckles and even more guilt and frustration to the tally.
"I know," he replied, smiled and shrugged lightly to say she didn't need to agree, and turned back to the work. He got to his feet, found the string and the frame they normally used to stretch leather on, and followed after Weaver with the thread, pulling it through the leather and simply winding it loosely around the frame for now. Once it was all ready, he would help her stretch it little by little, until the hide was evenly spread out and no side had more tension to it than any other.
It had been a while since he worked leather. Usually it was easier to trade raw hides to the tanner for finished ones, but Korbin was reminded now that he rather enjoyed the process. Smelly and dirty work though it was, there was something satisfying about following a product from beginning to end, and know every inch of it in detail. Maybe he would try something else later... he needed a new coat anyway, and if this silence remained, he would have to find some other hobby to pass the time with beside the lute.
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
She doesn’t argue. In the end, he needed to figure out how to face his own demons. It was not Loren’s fault, not really, even if Loren could be a pain in the ass. Weaver also wasn’t really judging being a pain in the ass, given that she was just as prone to such antics. Maybe that’s why she didn’t see that in him, really, because she was just as likely (if not moreso) to be the one pushing, encouraging. So many of their conversations had gone like that. Hell, that seems to be all her conversations lately, her pushing and encouraging the big babies men in her life. Hadn’t Loren actually stopped to apologize for never asking about her?
Korbin had been the one to tell him about their family, not Weaver, though she’d shown him the scar once he’d brought it up. Like icing on the cake, that scar. It’s a clear picture of how bad things had been, clear evidence of how much she should have died.
But today is not a not day for demon hunting. They settle back into the work, Korbin following with the string. When they have punched and threaded their way around the hide, Weaver begins to work with Korbin to stretch the leather out bit by bit, ensuring it was even all the way around. When they are done, and the leather has been tied off, she wraps one arm through her brothers, pointing to her mouth and then her stomach. Time for breakfast. So with that, she drags him from the room and back to the kitchen.
