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!
05-19-2020, 06:37 PM (This post was last modified: 05-19-2020, 06:37 PM by Loren.)
Once again, Loren found himself unable to sleep. Afternoon tossing and turning, he'd finally groaned and threw off the furs. Dressing quickly and quietly, he threw on a hooded cloak and his boots. Astra stirred, and he hummed softly and stroked her until she fell back asleep.
Then he padded down to the gates that had been breached. His makeshift ice wall was still holding, which was only a small blessing. For a long time, he stared at it, expression stricken.
Then he brought his hand up to his chest, where his new mageglass pendant rested on a necklace, along with a few other items. His brow furrowed with concentration for a moment. Then ice began to stream out of him, swirling around in a dizzying and confounding whirl, concealing his goal for now.
Korbin seemed to be beyond the need for sleep these days. The energy with which he threw himselves into the tasks his sister heaped upon him appeared without end. He was everywhere; arranging work parties, overseeing cook fires and settling disputes, helping home owners patch up roofs and insulate against the punishing cold. His hands and feet were so cold he could barely feel what he was doing anymore, but though the lips cracked and bled, and patches of frost-bite bloomed on the exposed skin of his face, he paid it no heed. Just downed a mug of hot broth when it was passed to him, and kept going.
He had been returning from the ruins of the palace, and stole a few quiet moments for himself to breathe and clear his mind. Standing still in the cold was impossible, so his feet carried him down streets filled with debris - that would need to be cleared, and the paths shoveled free of snow - towards what had once been the gate.
There, he stopped and stared at the devastation. The gate had been taken down and lay in a shambled heap to the side, its materials not yet salvaged for other purposes, and a solid block of ice had been set in its place. All around, the ground was trampled, dark stains indicating where blood had been shed and humans burned to ash by his sister's flames. He'd heard many versions told about the battle fought here, but seeing the aftermath was beyond anything the people had described to him.
A sense of movement caught his eye. Turning, Korbin saw a figure swept in ice stand not far from the gates. Being partly obscured by the swirling element, he didn't recognize who it was. Heart leaping into the throat, he feared it might be some new intruder. "What are you doing!?" he called out sharply and drew his heavy dagger, already moving towards the figure with strides that quickly picked up speed.
No one would endager his town and people while he had a chance to stop it.
As the familiar voice called out, Loren raised his hands in the air. Hopefully, the universal unarmed gesture would prevent violence. When he did, he released his hold on his magic, letting the ice fall to the ground. It revealed a partially constructed statue in ice. It was just a block, upon which armored legs stood.
Turning, he gave Korbin a nod. "It's me." Then the healer glanced at his work. "I was...nothing important. Or dangerous. You have my word." However, he pressed his lips together. He wasn't particularly interested in revealing what he was doing or why, especially to the Overseer, who didn't trust Loren in the slightest.
When the ice fell away, Korbin realized his mistake. Coming to a halt only a pace away from Loren, with the dagger raised high, his gaze darted from the man to the base of whatever structure the man had been making... assessing, judging, and quickly relaxed.
He sheathed his dagger, and took a step back, relinquishing whatever space he might have invaded. "My bad, I didn't recognize you," he said, apology and explanation wrapped up into one. While his heart still raced, he wasn't nearly as suspicious of the Grand Healer as Loren probably thought. Personal distrust aside, Korbin had no reason to believe the man would do anything to hurt the Citadel. Not after he'd fought to save it, at great personal risk.
Turning his attention more fully on what Loren had been making, Korbin brushed the hat off his hair to drag red-flushed fingers through it. Frost lined the eyelashes and the fringes of his hair that poked out of the cap, and his clothes too were cloaked in frost; he had been outside for a long time, and the signs of frostbite were not hard to spot.
"What were you doing?" he asked, curious despite himself; his lips cracked when he spoke, and Korbin winced, wiping blood off with the back of his hand before shoving the hat back on.
Lowering his hands, Loren shrugged at Korbin's explanation. "It's alright. We're all a bit on edge right now." The healer pulled his hood forward, obscuring his features. Then he crossed his arms, slamming his mental walls in place as he did.
Glancing at the half-finished statue, he pressed his lips together. "Nothing important. You can move on." The words came out in that polite, but chilly tone he'd taken to using around the Hale.
However, Loren's eyes took in the other man's state. Frowning, the healer stepped forward so he could inspect Korbin more closely. "You want me to heal you? I know you've been outside far too much, and the last thing we need is you getting sick or injured."
The guy could whip those emotions around all he wanted, Korbin wasn't paying much attention to them anyway. He only looked as Loren quite literally withdrew, hiding away under hood and behind crossed arms like he was the petulant teenager trying to run from the world. Korbin could understand the sentiment though. Perhaps an eyebrow arched up at the tone, but he wasn't going to push it when they just reached some tentative settlement, so when Loren told him to bug off, the young Overseer merely shrugged and stepped away to leave.
He had only taken a step when Loren came after him though, and Korbin paused, gazing back with a mildly quizzical expression as he endured the scrutiny. "If you have the energy to spare, I wouldn't mind," he replied, after a moments consideration. It might prevent serious damage, and let him stay in motion longer. "No need to push yourself on my account though."
Not that he thought the man was in any trouble... considering how he had just been playing around in the snow. His eyes darted to the statue and he had to hold back an amused smile.
Simply nodding, Loren reached out and laid his hand on Korbin's shoulder. It was easy to send a pulse of healing magic through the Overseer. Too easy, with the mageglass. The healer lifted his hand from the ohter man's shoulder. "That should've taken care of the damage from the cold." Loren's voice was quiet.
With that, he looked back and forth between his half-finished project and Korbin. For a moment, the healer opened his mouth. Then he hesitated and closed it. Instead he bit his lip, and his brow furrowed. "What're you doing down here this late anyway?" The question escaped his lips before he could stop it.
The pulse of magic washed through him like a warm drink, or sinking into a rare bath. It washed away the aches and pains of long days spent in constant motion, erased the stiffness from fingers and toes and filled him up with new energy. Korbin licked away the blood from lips that no longer cracked, and breathed a sigh of quiet relief, that he didn't need the bond to convey.
"Thank you," he murmured, closing his eyes for a second. "That did help."
This was the part where he should keep going, really. But before he could honor Loren's wish to move along, the healer asked another question, and Korbin remained standing where he was, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.
"Still working, until just now," he replied, not minding the question. Knew he didn't have to answer, but did it anyway. "I had to see this... People keep asking me what really happened, and I don't know what to tell them, except 'we won'." Korbin nudged a chin towards the sealed gate, the bloodstained battlefield. The bodies had been removed, but there was no mistaking what had gone down here.
Waving away Korbin's thanks, Loren just tucked his hands in his pockets. "Just doing my job." Still he felt the tension ease from him a little bit.
Glancing around at the remaining carnage, he took a deep breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to remain calm and keep a grip on his emotions. When he finally opened them, he was only partially successful. "I can tell you what happened." He hesitated, before finally turning to stare at the block of ice that currently served as their gate.
"The Eirachi destroyed the Palace, no doubt because she built it for Neron in the first place. Morgan, Zariah, Weaver, and I all began by helping get the people into the Arcane Academy, where they'd be safe." He shivered with remembered terror. "Morgan and Zariah split off to check out the gates. I don't know exactly what happened then, but by the time Weaver and I got here, the cultists had broken through." Nodding at the block, he glanced at the Overseer to see how he was taking all this.
"Zariah had set up a...field of lightning, to prevent the cultists from breaking through. Morgan, her soldiers, and I charged through it, while Zariah and Weaver stayed behind to attack from afar." Biting his lip, he tried not to let tears spring to his eyes. "Morgan and her guards engaged the main group while I went for the leader. I...I killed...him. I killed all of them." His voice trembled on that part.
Looking away, he tried blinking away the moisture from his eyes. "Morgan and her guards were wounded. I went to heal her, and by the time I finished, the remaining cultists had...I couldn't...couldn't save the soldiers." He bowed his head ashamed. "At least I avenged them." That came out quietly, barely above a whisper.
"Then the Eirachi showed up. I think you know the rest." He hugged his arms to himself, unable and unwilling to meet the other man's gaze.
It had not really been meant as a prompt for Loren to relive the battle, and Korbin was surprised when the guy not only offered, but went straight into a narration of the events that wrecked the Citadel. Before long, he was too wrapped up in the retelling of the battle to care about much else. Korbin could see it play out before his inner vision; small figures running desperately through the cold night, fighting a terrible battle against horrible odds.
When Loren's voice cracked, the young man looked at him for a moment, then turned his gaze away, to give him space and privacy. His own struggles with the killing of a single man still haunted him, and gave Korbin a vague understanding of the burden that weighed on the healer right now. Not just one, but many had fallen to him. The same was true for Weaver, of that Korbin had no doubt. He knew his sister; even if she stayed back, she would never stand around and do nothing.
Korbin did know the rest. The chaotic running around until everyone was safely indoors. The standoff between Neron and Weaver, the moments of hesitation before Morgan conceded the claim to the Warden's seat. It was still a haze in his mind, of ceaseless work piling up before him. And it still hadn't ended. Wouldn't ever, though it might calm down a bit eventually.
Hesitating, he took a step closer and put a hand on Loren's shoulder. He was no hugger, couldn't casually wrap his arm around someone like it was the most natural thing... it really wasn't. But he couldn't do nothing either.
"You protected our people. My sister. Everyone within these walls. Thank you." It was really all he could think to say. For once, Korbin was lost for words.
Flinching away from Korbin's touch, Loren stepped aside. He reached up to rub his chest where the mageglass rested against his skin. Looking down, he stared at the bloodstained snow. "Not everyone." Jaw feathering with tension, he turned his back to the Overseer. "You're welcome." The words came out with an awkward and guiltly tone to them, and it was clear the healer was uncomfortable with the gratitude.
Lifting his gaze, he stared at the monument he'd started to build. "I made sure to learn their names. The Shields who died." There was something almost ashamed about the way he said it, and though his features were hidden, they were twisted in a mask of grief.
Apprently, Loren wasn't as good at accepting kind gestures as he was at offering them. When he flinched away, Korbin bit back a sigh and shoved the hand back into its customary pocket, not in a mind to insist.
"No one can be everywhere, or save everyone," he replied, turning away to let Loren be at least somewhat alone with whatever he was feeling. "I'm learning that the hard way myself, these days. Before, you told me to think of the lives I saved, rather than the one I took. Maybe you could use some of that thinking yourself."
He was not good at comforting people, or offering advice. It was unasked for, too, which might just make him a busybody of the sort he hated. Korbin realized that thanking someone for slaughtering a bunch of people - cultists or no - might be a bit tactless, but.. what else was he supposed to say?
Loren went on to talk about the fallen, and the young raven nodded. Taking another look at the ice the man had been forming, he thought he understood what the Healer had been up to.
"It's to be a memorial?" he asked, just to make sure he wasn't wrong.
"I learned that lesson a long time ago." Loren's voice was soft. For the briefest of moments, his eyes grew sad.
Then he pulled his hood down again and his expression from view. "Doesn't hurt any less, or make me feel any less like I failed." Surprisingly, he didn't sound upset about that fact, just matter of fact.
Hesitating for just a moment, he finally nodded at Korbin's question. "I figured it was the least I could do. Though we should arrange something for their families." The healer raised his hands again, and the ice and snow began pouring out of them.
His magic crept up the body of the statue. Slowly, but surely, it began to take shape: a figure in armor, with a shield raised overhead as if defending from a blow. It wasn't the most artistic or beautiful of memorials, but it was something.
The sidelong glance Korbin gave him was thoughtful. Loren's words rather conflicted with the way he was acting - he didn't look like someone who had that lesson down - but he was in no mood to argue, and left the statement unchallenged. Chalked it up to grief being grief, and left it at that.
"If Weaver hasn't thought about it already, I'll mention it to her," Korbin offered. "I don't doubt Morgan would appreciate her soldiers being given the honor they deserve. I'll see what wood we can spare; they should be properly burned, at the very least. And may they burn brightly."
Taking a step back, he watched the ice take shape as Loren wielded it. The figure was rudimentary, to his eyes, lacking artistic flair... but the message came across. He nodded quiet approval.
"Maybe their names can be carved at the base?" he suggested.
