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!
It was still early, not yet midday, though Weaver had already hit the training room in the Academy for a while to practice with her fire. She’d spent a little time trying to figure out her air manipulation as well, though she hadn’t had much luck with that one. It felt like the sort of thing she would need to test more, to use in a battle where it seemed useless rather than just using it to tease Sunjata or steal scones from Loren (though those both seemed like very good uses).
With nothing else to do, she’d made her way to the Kraai. She’d been reasonably successful in a number of the drinks she’d been working on, and maybe it was time to work on a proper menu of options for her patrons. Not that she wouldn’t figure out how to make just about anything they asked for, but it seemed like a nice idea to have options ready for the indecisive.
So she makes her way to the bar, slinging her cloak on its hook. She grabs the recipe book along with a pen and some paper, flipping open the book to start writing down the ingredients of the completed drinks in the most generic sense, just so people would have a description. Weaver slides onto one of the barstools, the place nearly empty this early. Names for the items would be harder, but she can come back to those.
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
He almost ran home. Hoped that he would find his sister there, but the house was empty. Unable to contain the immensity of what he'd just experienced, Korbin just deposited the things he'd been out to get, and hurried off again, towards the Kraai. The bar was the first option, the surest place to find her these days, and much as he had his issues with the place, it was rather nice to know where to begin looking. It hadn't always been this easy.
In a rush of cold air Korbin burst in through the door and closed it quickly. A look around showed that he didn't have to keep looking; she was right there, seated by the bar, paging through that worn old notebook that had become her best friend lately. Without even pausing to take off the heavy layers that protected from the dangerous cold, he stalked over the floor towards his sister and with a bright laugh he moved to sweep her up in a big hug, to lift her clean from the seat and spin her around in a dizzying twirl.
"I can hear, Weaver! I finally hear again!" he laughed, bright elation coloring a voice that was still a bit rough but no longer unsteady or hesitant. "Say something, I want to hear your voice!"
Letting her come down with feet on the floor - if she hadn't already punched him across the room for acting like a drunken bear - Korbin reached up to cup her face between his gloved hands. There was a brightness in him like there hadn't been for weeks, seasons even, and his face felt like it might split, he just couldn't stop grinning.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
When she is not at home or training, she is almost always at the Kraai, . That would change when Deepfrost ended, because she would go off adventuring, though less than before. The Kraai kept her busy, even more than hunting had in some ways. She was here early to get boss-work done, and here late to simply bartend and do a little guild work at the same time. Much of her day was consumed by the bar, but it did make her a much easier target to track down.
The door swings open, and though she can feel the wind that comes in with it, she doesn’t feel the cold. Still, she turns her attention that way to see who’s come in so early, surprised to see Korbin. She hadn’t expected him to be here already, but rather with Loren or doing whatever he did when he wasn’t helping with the bartending, which clearly, there was no need to help with before lunch.
The hug is shocking. The way he bodily lifts her and swings her around is even more shocking, and she lets out a yelp that turns into a laugh. Normally she might protest and punch him, but it’s so unusual that she decides to just enjoy the moment. When he speaks, his face alight with joy, she finds her own smile brightening to match his. ”Oh thank the fucking gods,” she says, and it feels like a fitting first thing for him to hear out of her mouth. Mostly the cursing.
He puts her down, and she finds her feet again. He reaches up to cup her face and this time she does bat him away. ”Okay okay, stop it. I’m beginning to worry the gods also replaced you with an alien.” Though her grin is wide, and it betrays her.
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
Possibly he was a bit hopped up on endorphines at the moment. So what? It felt good, he felt good, and for the first time in a godawful while, the world was beautiful. And so was Weaver's voice, swear words and everything. Korbin laughed again as she swatted away his hands and resisted the urge to pull her in for another hug, knowing he would be met with a knee to the stomach if he tried.
"You can thank Safrin," he winked, as he pulled off the gloves and swept the hat off his head. The dark hair stood on end, and seemed to express excitement all on its own. "And a really nice girl from the Grounds, who took a joke very seriously and put in a good word for me with the powers that be." He would have to write a letter back, tell her how things went. But the whole encounter still set his head to spinning, and it was hard to believe it even happened at all.
Tossing his outer garments over a chair, stole a peek at the notebook that lay open on the counter. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
She had appearances to uphold, and even if she didn’t necessarily mind his hands on her face or the possibility of another hug, Weaver also has her limits when it comes to affection. It’s not that she doesn’t show it, but she does tend to show it by punching you. Still, it was good to see her brother happy, and she chucks him upside the head lightly just to let him know.
”Can’t say I ever expected to thank Safrin for anything.” Though the goddess deserved some thanks, it would seem. Safrin wasn’t exactly fond of the Abandoned, from what Weaver understood, though it is not a shock she came to Korbin’s aid, even if she’d never come to Weaver’s. ”And who is this girl?’ she asks, settling back into her barstool, eyebrow raised slightly. She’d like to very much call him out on some bullshit right now, given all the grief he’d given her for running around and making new friends, but she lets it go instead.
She shifts the paper so he can see it better. There’s a few lists of ingredients that are clearly cocktails, though only one has a name. Ice and Snow, a particularly delicious but strong drink, designed to get you fucked up if you aren’t careful. ”Writing a proper drink menu, both for clients and also so the other bartenders know what’s in my head and how to make them.” Though she knew them all, she probably needed to make sure the drinks could be served whether she was there or not.
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
Korbin usually wasn't much of a hugger himself. But he had moments, and this was apparently one of them. If nothing else, there was a great urge to make up for all the pain he'd been giving her lately, and hugs was one way. But since they were not on the schedule... he would have to come up with some other way of repaying her. Many other ways, in fact.
"Me neither," he admitted. "I was about ready to give up on that shrine. Can you believe, I actually got cursed a third time? But then Safrin turned up anyway, and removed it. If not, I'd be looking like a grinning fool right about now, sounding happy as ever, even though it would have been a fucking lie." His relief at avoiding that fate was palpable, and no doubt this exuberant mood was in part thanks to that intervention.
Seating himself on a barstool next to the one he had dislodged her from, Korbin slumped against the bar, leaning back on his elbows. "Aisha... something or other. Forgot the rest of the name. I went to check the Notice Board for something I was curious about, and she was there. We just talked. Well, wrote, really... It was just a joke, really; she said she felt sorry for me being deaf, and I suggested she should put in a good word next time she prayed." He hauled up a letter from a pocket on his coat, and waved it in the air. "Apparently, she took it far more seriously than I did."
Korbin looked delighted yet perplexed, still hardly able to believe it. That a stranger had gone out of her way to help... and that it had worked.
When she showed him the notebook, he leaned in to have a closer look. Letting the letter down onto the countertop, he looked through the list of drinks she had started on, recognizing a few that were in circulation already.
"That would help a lot," he agreed. "Need any help with it? A food menue might be a good idea too. Some of the outlanders don't know our usual food, and most of the locals keep asking about the new stuff you add." He grinned playfully and poked a tickling finger at her. "So far, you've managed to upset both sides. Apparently they don't eat Luxere in the Grounds."
It still seemed strange to him, but then again, so were all outsiders.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
It’s good to hear him so happy. It lightens her heart to hear him yammering on about the shrines and Safrin. Yes, he is yammering, but since it’s been quite a while since he’s been able to do that and hear her in return, she doesn’t mind in the slightest. ”Well, thank Safrin then,” she says with a slight chuckle. ”Because someone else has to like you besides me and those spirits.” And apparently this girl in the Grounds.
He goes on to tell her about the chick. Aisha. Not someone Weaver has run into, but she listens as Korbin sits down next to her. It’s nice not to have to write answers back to him, even if they still somehow are looking at paper and written words. Well, isn’t fate just hilarious. ”Well, thank Aisha as well. You probably owe her something in return, brother.” Not that he doesn’t know it, but she cannot help but point it out anyway. Halovian habits.
She nods as he asks if she needs help, not interrupting until he’s done though. A laugh escapes her at the mention of the luxere. ”Deimos seemed slightly horrified when I mentioned we eat them. Apparently the light from their antlers helps to keep the monsters away during LongNight there.” It makes sense they do not eat them, but in Halo, the luxere were one of their few resources. ”But we can add food, and I could use help naming some of these things. I’ve got a name of the one, Ice and Snow, but not much for anything else.”
She points at the next two drinks on the menu. Her favorite, the cider and whiskey combo, which tastes a whole lot like drinking not-sweet apple pie. Below that is the drink she’d made for Kiada, which maybe just ought to be called what it was: a chocolate peppermint martini. But her brother was always more clever with things like names than she was.
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
Truth be told, it was amazing to hear his own voice again. She better get used to it, because Weaver would hear a lot of it from now on. It would take a lot of practice to get his singing back to what it had been... not to mention the playing.
Grinning at her jibe, he nodded when she mentioned owing Aisha. "I know. I'll reply to the letter, for starters. After that... I guess we'll see. Gotta survive Deepfrost first." His smile turned a bit wry at that; it was easier said than done, for all of them. He could only hope that the girl was heading to Torchline rather than staying at the Grounds.
"Who's Deimos?" he asked absently, as he leaned in to read the ingredients of the other drinks again. Tried to recall the taste of them, and hummed thoughtfully.
"Mother's Touch," he suggested for the one that tasted of apples. Not that he could recall if Straia ever baked any apple pies, but it seemed like a thing mom's should do - all about strolling into a warm kitchen full of fragrant scents and stealing freshly baked cookies. "And... hmm. Stranger's Kiss," came the other suggestion. A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth; it reminded him of something, though Korbin didn't elaborate on what.
"I need a favor, sis," he said then, and leaned back against the bar, his expression sobering up just a little, even though the light was still there in his eyes.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
She chuckles at that. ”Yea, it’s gonna be a little while before we see the rest of Caido again. Nothing new for us.” How would the Outlanders handle this Deepfrost, stuck inside the Citadel with little to do? Now that would be the thing to watch. Though the hunters would get restless, and eventually the rest of Halo as well, they were all used to this. The Outlanders though? They seemed likely to do something stupid.
Apparently he had not run into the General yet, though she cannot say she’s entirely surprised. After all, that’s exactly the sort of person Weaver would want to find and her brother wouldn’t care about. ”The General in the Grounds. Also an Abandoned with fire, though vastly more impressive than my own magic.” She recalls his raging inferno, the dragons of fire, and the way he simply did not tire.
She gives him a look at Mother’s Touch though. ”Would you want to drink something called Mother’s Touch? Sorry but our drunk patrons are going to take that one the wrong way.” She chuckles slightly, trying to imagine Straia doing anything motherly. Would either of them even know what a mother’s touch was actually like? Korbin wouldn’t remember, but Weaver can’t quite imagine Straia being motherly in that way. She’d been a different sort of mother.
The next suggestion has her grinning slightly more, because she knows, though she doesn’t tell him as much. ”That one seems appropriate, though,” she says, which could have any manner of meaning. She scribbles the name down, and then turns her attention to Korbin as he requests a favor, eyes narrowing slightly. ”What sort of favor?
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
Nothing new, and honestly nothing he grieved about. It was nice to know that no new faces would be turning up, that no surprises waited for them oh, if only that were true and that life would settle back into something that resembled what he thought of as normal. Deepfrost was a much needed reprieve from the rest of the world, and while she might mourn the lack of contact with the rest of Caido... he did not.
"Ah, makes sense," he murmured, nodding. She would enjoy talking to other abandoned. That was a part of her life he could do nothing to help with, sad as that was. Too bad that the Academy was run by an outlander, or he might be far happier about its existence.
Her comment on the first drink made Korbin short with amusement. "Alright, good point. What would you call it, then? What comes to mind when you drink it?" He tilted his head, waiting for something to work with. Creativity was good and well, but a blank canvas was sometimes really boring. Her comment about the other drink made him raise a quiet brow, but Korbin didn't ask what she meant. Was fairly sure he didn't want to know.
"I met a guy last season, who knew your Maea," he explained, watching her face carefully. Not sure how much the subject might hurt her. "He said they were family, but he doesn't know how she died, and the woman who posted the note in the Grounds apparently won't tell him. Something about being a daughter of Mort, and disliking Ascended." Korbin scratched his chin, regarding Weaver. "Do you know anything about it? Could you tell me, so he can get some closure?"
That was largely the reason why Korbin had offered to help in the first place. He knew Weaver would understand; the pain of not knowing the fate of a loved one was the worst kind, and not to be wished on anyone.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
There were some people she missed out there, in Caido, and it would be nice to go back, but she also doesn’t mind just being here. Having an excuse not to leave feels, well, almost like a relief in some ways. She doesn’t mind the routine of heading to train, then to the Kraai. She doesn’t mind working on her cider and recipes, doesn’t mind sitting here making a menu. There’s something relaxing about it, perhaps a little freeing. So while she would look forward to getting out again if she isn’t dead, she wasn’t necessarily rushing through Deepfrost either.
He is less interested in Deimos than she is, but she can understand that. He has no magic, as she has no shifts. They cannot really relate on this scale, and he cannot really understand how much she longs to be able to do what Deimos can. It could not keep them safe, but it could keep them safer, if she were more powerful. And while the school is helpful, simply listening to others talk about magic was equally helpful (thank you Maea).
”Hmm,” she hums, thinking about the drink, then deciding that the better plan is to just drink it. She gets up, moving around the bar to grab the ingredients and make a small glass for them to share. ”I am terrible at being creative, you know this. That’s why I have you. But I think of Leafchange, of the crispness in the air, of sitting next to a crackling fire. I think of apple pie with Mavis.” The old crone often had pie for Weaver, a long time friend with her strange market stall of odds and ends. Weaver stirs the drink and takes a sip before passing it to her brother, letting him try.
She looks up at the mention of Maea, sticking out her arm and rolling up her sleeve slightly to reveal the underside of her wrist. A small dove, wings spread, had been inked on to her skin. ”Who?” she asks, not explaining the tattoo because Korbin would understand. However, she wants to know who Maea’s family had been. Perhaps she could meet him. ”She was helping friends. Doing what exactly, I don’t know. Only that she ended up in the waters in Torchline at the wrong time and was eaten by a ghost whale and drowned.”
It wasn’t the whole story as Weaver only knew what Delphia had told her, but it was enough of it, perhaps, to be of some use. ”Her soul went to Mort, and apparently the dead watch us, but they do not long for us we do for them. They are happy to wait while we enjoy the gift of life.” And perhaps she’s saying this as much for them as she is for the stranger.
05-15-2020, 09:47 PM (This post was last modified: 05-15-2020, 09:53 PM by Korbin.)
KORBIN
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
He would like nothing more than to share the gift of magic she had. It's how he saw it; a gift. As much as his attunement was a gift. It was where they differed, where he couldn't follow her, much as she could never quite understand what it was like to share your thoughts and emotions in the bond that connected all shifters. They were close as siblings could be, yet that still lay between them. And Loren had said that acquiring magic would be the same as a curse, in his case.
But would it really? Could it be worse than the silence, than having your own body manipulated by spirits for naught but amusement? At least magic was useful, would let others than just himself survive in a place like this.
"Leafchange and fires and apple pie. Old Mavis always had a good tale to tell, when she wasn't forcing useless trinkets on people. Hm. 'A fireside story', perhaps?" She did have him for the creativity, and he loved throwing ideas around. Could and would do it until they found something that fit perfectly. They might be here for a while.
Korbin took her writs between long fingers and turned it gently, angling until he could see the design of the white dove clearly. It was distinct, the work of both their favorite artist, and he felt his throat tighten at the sight.
"You really liked that girl, didn't you," he murmured softly. "It makes me sorry I never got the chance to meet her." So many had been involved with her; Weaver, Loren, Amun... The list of names on the noticeboard had been very long, and he had a feeling it was only a fraction of people she'd met.
"Name's Amun. A potter from Hollowed Ground." It wasn't much, but better than nothing. Likely, it was more than the man had to go on now, if everyone was as reluctant to talk to him as the man made it sound. "Thank you. I'll let him know. Hopefully, it'll answer some questions, at least."
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
Funny, how they each want what they do not have. But isn’t that always the way of it? To long for the things you do not know, though she would never trade her magic away for it. She would become more, but not less. She longed for her magic too, longed to strengthen herself, to become a force. It had taken her far too long to care about such things at all, and she will never quite forgive herself for it. Maybe if she’d worked on her magic harder, Erebor would still be alive. She will never stop blaming herself for his death, but it drives her forward now. Though she cannot undo the past, though the ‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs’ will never change a thing, she can shape the future. She can protect those still left in her life.
”Ah, but her trinkets are half the story. The candle that keeps you warm so long as you can see it’s flame. The cup that never runs dry.” She chuckles slightly, recalling many of the items that she’d gotten or at least seem from Mavis over the years. Some of them were still in this house, lost to some pile or drawer, but still, there. ”I like the name,” she says, grabbing the menu and scribbling it down. She takes another sip of the drink as well. So what if it’s not even noon?
She lets him examine the tattoo, nodding at the statement. ”She deserves to be remembered. Maybe it’s weird, because I didn’t know her well, and yet…” Weaver can only shrug. They did know not one another well, and maybe that was part of what hurt. The loss of so much possibility. The loss of someone so bright. The world was a little darker without her. ”Haven’t run into him, but maybe I’ll try to find him one of these days. It would be nice to meet her family.” Or someone she counted as family, as the case may be. The difference didn’t really matter. ”I hope it helps him.”
at least I know how I can make you laugh like no one else
Laughing, Korbin could only agree. He had a hoard of things he'd accepted or traded from the old woman, for the story more often than the item itself. They made for good stories, good songs, and there was no shortage of either in his stash. "My favorite was the 'Whisper mirror' that told secrets when no one was there to hear it," he grinned.
Watching Weaver add the name of the drink to her list, he slipped of his stool and made his way behind the bar. Picking through the bottles, he found one with a nice wine that was almost empty, and drained the contents into two cups. Adding spices, he brought them off to the hearth, where he heated a poker; bringing it into the wine one at a time, he mulled it and brought the warm brew back, offering one to his sister and keeping the other for himself.
"Maybe I can help you with that," he offered. "If you can gather up some interesting details, I could piece together a song, or tale, or such. Doesn't take much to make those stick in the mind of people. That way, she will never really fade."
If the girl was memorable enough that an almost stranger would carve a mark in her skin to remember her by, Korbin would be more than happy to assist. Especially if it meant this much to his sister.
Oh I'm such a mess But at least I've always been myself
