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!
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
There is something my home was known for, and that is, its pubs.
They were a place where mostly alcohol was drunk, but also where good hearty food could be found, friendships forged and celebrated, and a great many enjoyable time had. I had fond memories of the pubs from home, though I didn't usually partake in the alcoholic drinking as much as many others, I still found enjoyment and pleasure.
The local bar here was what I expected from Halo: rustic, warm, usually bustling with quiet conversation, serving good food and drinks. I sit in the common area, offering conversation to those in passing here and there, but mostly keeping to myself, sometimes letting my attention simply stare off into the fireplace that warms the area, letting the world around me continue on as background noise. It is a peaceful existence, one that I feel obliged to be grateful for, as the impending Longnight stirs up concerns and worries in almost everyone around me, I remain blissfully ignorant.
Really, the Wraith has come to talk to Weaver - but with the dark-haired women absent at the moment, Wessex orders a drink (as she does, every now and then) and as she waits, leans back on the bar, elbows on the edge. Cool, calm, collected - a manic pixie cut and hard edges in some leather and too-thin pants - perhaps too much bravado in a woman of her age, but the one thing that is universal is the loss of ability to give a fuck as you get older.
Wessex has zero fucks to give right now.
Once she has a drink, someone seems to catch her attention, and she crosses to the table of two. There’s a brief exchange, a joke and one of the others seems to point at her glass and crack a joke. She laughs along, takes a sip, and then manages to disentangle herself a few minutes later. Perhaps a little less amiable, but not ready to head back out into the cold yet. She’s about to settle herself into the table closest to the door when the ‘new’ guy gives her pause. Unable to recall if she’s seen him before (sometimes people look the same under all those furs), Wessex slides her way across the buzzing floor to him.
With half-narrowed eyes, the blonde asks, “You… new?”
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
It was easy to let the background hum of the bar lull me into a bit of a trance, a moment that probably went on for several minutes, where I simply existed, lost in thought, letting the fireplace draw my gaze. I had so many questions about this world, and I had begun to write them down on piles and piles of notes which were in my lodgings in Snowcloak, but still my mind came up with more, its desire to learn and grow and know simply unending.
The movement of one nearing me was enough to break me from my thought train, disrupting the flow - I held no ill feelings for this occurring, for so often I found myself lost amongst my own thoughts, I knew it was a fault of my own and not of those around me. A quick smile jumps to my lips as I lean forward in my chair, happily engaging in the conversation this woman offers.
"I am," I confirm for her, rising to stand and extend a hand out to shake in greeting, if she was that way inclined. "Chulane, though most call me Chuy. Who are you?"
When he speaks, Wessex knows he definitely isn’t from Caido. It’s a funny, lilting kind of tone, with a bouncing cadence, the vowels more rounded. It’s… endearing. Different. She smiles at the young man. “I’m Wessex. Most people call me Wessex. At least to my face,” she adds after a moment, chuckling a bit. Sitting down without waiting for an invitation, she crosses her legs and leans forward a bit, glass left on the table in front of her.
“How long you been here?” She asks, curious if Halo at Deepfrost is his first experience of Caido, or if he’s managed to get a bit of the nicer side in before the world tried to kill anything that steps outside. It’s a bit chilly. To say the least. And while Wessex doesn’t notice it, she knows that others have - the streets are far less populated, the people more bundled up. Barely anyone out at night, unless it’s to waddle/dash from one place to another (like from the Kraai to their homes, for example).
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
A brow raises as she introduces herself, a shadow of a smirk dimpling my lips at her chuckle. I sit as well, glad for the company of a woman with a sense of humour that seems on a similar beat to my own. "What might they call you otherwise?" I couldn't help but ask, my smirk widening to a cheeky grin, wondering what she might come up with.
"Nearly a month," I answer, pausing as I calculate roughly the time that has passed since the portal took me into its grips and delivered me to this foreign realm. "While I am experienced in snow, this world has been an education in cold," I explain with a light laugh, having never expected to need my heavy coat for so long.
After a moment of consideration, Wessex replies to his inquiry truthfully. “The Wraith. Bitch. Unreasonable.” That last one brings a quiet chuckle as she thinks back to Morgan’s assessment of her. Oh yes, quite unreasonable when she puts her mind to it. The list could go on and on, but those qualities are more than enough for a first impression.
But she’s confident in herself enough to laugh it off, the promise of eternal life (so long as she doesn’t get stupid and the Voice doesn’t disappear) enough to put some kind of long-termperspective in her. A month. Well, that’s not long at all, and yet long enough to have formed some opinions, she assumes. She assumes there will be questions for her, and perhaps he can answer some of her own. If there’s one thing about Outlanders that she finds fascinating, its the variety of worlds they come from.
“Yes,” comes quickly in response to his question. “But not a Halo local. I was born and raised in the Hallowed Grounds.” She take a sip of the liquor. “And where did you come from? Before. That’s a unique accent. Don’t think I’ve ever heard it in any others.”
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
I chuckle at her response, appreciating her candor, her directness - my first impression was one that was suggested she was very frank and wouldn't hesitate to call out any bullshit, despite her self-proclaimed descriptor of unreasonable. Oftentimes that was simply a way for those whose perspectives were fogged by ignorance to explain away that which challenged their deeply rooted beliefs, their lack of logic and clarity. It was an easy trap to fall into - being a complete newbie here, I myself found my brain attempting to justify this world with swift, dismissive (and incorrect) conclusions, but the scientist in me allowed me to persevere, to pursue the truth in all things, to dig deeper, investigate, and eventually not only survive, but thrive.
It would seem I was the entity that would be investigated tonight however, and I welcomed it - back at my lodging I was in the process of writing down all that I could remember on my homeworld, both for posterity and also for the wealth of medical and farming knowledge that might prove useful in this world. The woman states her birthplace, within the Hallowed Grounds, and I nod, recognising the name of the place, memories of my brief visit there jumping to the forefront of my mind. It was a place that warranted more exploring, more learning, and I was admittedly already restless at the idea of waiting an entire season before the weather permitted access to the portal again - but such was the way of things.
"My homeworld was very simply called Earth, and I lived on a large continent that began on the equator and stretched south, called Australia, though I've been shortening that name to Oz for simplicity's sake here." I offer her as summarised yet informative an explanation as I can on the spot. "My accent is often considered charming to those who hold a different one," I add with a smirk and a raised brow, inviting more questions, more conversation, from this most interesting woman.
Earth. She nods. It sounds terribly familiar (none of his specifics do, and she’d be hard pressed to tell anyone what an equator is) but Wessex can’t remember if anyone’s ever used that specific word before. Reaching back into the depths of her memory, after a couple of quiet moments she recalls conversations with Abasi and his peculiar world, his accent - what had he called the place? “Does Earth have an… Egpyt on it? And pha-roahs?” It’s been awhile, and she’s a bit unsure if she’s pronouncing the place and people correctly. Abasi, sadly, is no longer with them, so any jumbling up of information is purely on the Wraith herself.
“Unique can mean charming,” the demigod offers back with a slight smirk of her own. “But I don’t think you need the extra compliments.” With a slow gesture of her glass, Wessex indicates the room and the few interactions she’s seen him engage in. The side-eyes from women and men alike. A newcomer to Halo is always a bit of an event, especially if they decide to stay. A young, attractive newcomer is an even bigger cause for celebration, she can imagine, particularly during Deepfrost and LongNight.
Not to mention that in her experience, handsome men usually know they’re handsome. There’s no need to feed into it.
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
"Egypt?" My attention is suddenly pinned on the word, my posture straightening. "Pharaohs?" I repeat, though my tone is slightly less sure. Pharaohs weren't something associated with the modern Earth that I left, but I had no clue how the Portal worked - could it have fetched someone from somewhere in Earth's history and brought them here?
"Earth has an Egypt," I confirm, "though Pharaohs are something associated with empires that existed over two-thousand years ago." I explain, finding myself with more questions instead of fewer as I said this. "Is there another Outlander here? From Egypt?" I ask, before the conversation shifts.
I can't help it - I blush at her words. I know I was the one to offer the sassy comment initially, but that was about as far as my 'cockiness' went. I didn't look to where she gestured, instead diverting my gaze down to the table between us, as if considering downing my drink a bit more seriously. It wasn't alcoholic - perhaps that was the problem.
"So what brings you to Halo?" I attempt to change the subject from the one that caused colour to rise to my cheeks like a bashful kid.
Her own eyes widen as Chuy says that Pharaohs existed two-thousand years ago. Wessex knew the portals spanned both time and space, but that was… hard to swallow. “Oh,” is all she can really say for now, until he actually asks about Abasi, and then she dons a sad smile. “Not any more, I’m afraid. He died this past summer. It was an unfortunate accident… I liked him.” And that’s saying a lot; despite Abasi’s unfortunate choice in godly pursuits, he’d still offered her respect and courtesy and frank conversation. It was a welcome respite while she’d ruled.
Inwardly a bit pleased at causing a reaction, Wessex looks into her drink and takes a small sip again, looking up as he speaks, bearing a mild expression of amusement.
“I wanted to talk to Weaver about something. But if she’s too busy tonight, I’ll pop back in later, I guess. Maybe stay a couple of nights of LongNight” She shrugs. Who knows that the rest of the season will bring.
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
News of another traveller from Earth has reignited something within me, something that I had been working on muting, on shutting down, because hope was a precarious thing. If another had come through from Earth, no matter the time shift, then that raised the possibility that I might see a familiar face again, that the event that brought me here was not a standalone event, not unique - did that mean it could be replicated? Harnessed? Controlled?
I had used the portal to travel to the Hallowed Grounds, I knew it was vaguely controllable, at least within the confines of Caido, per the whims of the gods, or whoever it was who put it there. Apparently they could only take from worlds outside of Caido, however, not return. I had come to this conclusion, had come to accept this reality, not long after my arrival, with the news given to me by Loren and reaffirmed by every local I had spoken to since. So I swiftly dismissed any thoughts of resurrecting that hope with Wessex's next words, an apologetic expression on my face as I said "Sorry to hear that."
I appear to have amused the lady with my blushing ways, and this is yet another thing I simply accept, knowing if the situation was in reverse, I probably would be amused too.
"Only a couple of days?" Something in her words had triggered a bit of confusion within me, my brow raising in curiosity as I meet her gaze once more. "I thought once DeepFrost set in here, the blizzards would pile too much snow up around the portal, making it inaccessible?" At least, that's what I've been told.
She gently brushes away his sympathy with an expression that says ‘it happens,’ because to her, it does. Everyone dies (mostly). Death and life go hand in hand and she is all too familiar with it. Hopefully his life here will be different.
And it might be, because he’s managed to inadvertently get Wessex to reveal something about her that she might not usually put out there. It’s a rare occurrence. She looks a bit surprised when he finishes, but mostly at herself. There’s a brief pause. “Ah, for everyone else in Halo… yes. Between the cold and the snow, no one is leaving. But I don’t need the portals to travel.” And there it is. There’s probably some residual guilt about it, but only because he’s so new to Caido, and then he goes and gets himself trapped here for his first season. What are the odds?
Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
That there is magic in this world is something I am not sure I will ever get used to. And yet it is everywhere - including within me. But still, I am surprised to learn that another wields an ability that can only be described as magical with such ease. My interest is piqued, and I can't help but think that if I were in my leopard form, my ears would perk up, and my head would tilt as my icy gaze searched her for more information.
"You'll have to forgive me if I seem rude in my curiosity - my profession on my previous homeworld leant itself to my inherent desire to learn more about, well, almost everything." I begin, hoping she would indeed forgive me if I overstep the bounds of polite tavern conversation, and also hoping it sufficiently prepared her for what was inevitably going to follow - questions.
I had a lot of them. But I was also a patient man, and could pace myself, asking only one question at a time.
"How do you travel between regions without using the Portal?"
Just like she brushed off Chuy’s apology, so does she brush off his disclaimer. “Nonsense. Here, you learn or you die. I’m quite used to explaining things.” When she was Queen, when she was stuck in one or two places, when she felt duty bound instead of free to explore. Now, she owes very little to the world; every explanation is because she wants to be there and talk about things.
In another life, she would have been an elder, taking on apprentices and teaching them to hunt and shoot. Now she takes on the newly Ascended. Teaches a bit about Caido if someone asks. But otherwise, Wessex is more focused on learning more about the world than helping others.
“I can teleport,” she replies easily. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world. But before he can ask another question, she can hopefully get one more of her own in there. "Do you know what you are yet? Accepted, Attuned, Abandoned?" Ascended is purposefully left out. She would know by now if he's one of hers.
