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!
They won't stop our evolution. Who do you think we are?
"An extra sense. Sounds like it could be useful.." Morgan mused, though without knowing the details of just what this sense let one detect, it was hard to know just how. Since it seemed Mallorie had lost this ability she supposed she'd never really find out. "There are...if you look for them, spirits and energies living in our mountains and nature. The water spirits in the Sea of Glass are especially active in the Longheat when the ice melts."
She could have perhaps chided Mallorie for her potentially intended to be humorous pun, but Morgan had developed something of a dark sense of humour in the last months. "Mm. In the last couple of years, yes. Before that? No. I used to think we would stay in our ways forever. Then the Outlanders came." Neron first, then all those that he'd brought with him; she'd had her doubts then and she had been right.
"What I want to take us back to is a time when our people could know those in power were more interested in protecting and helping than in serving their own egos. We will certainly, if I have any say in it, not be rebuilding the Palace. What a monument to Neron's vanity." Morgan sneered at the place where the Palace had once stood.
Fight against your execution. Who do you think we are?
She wasn’t prone to belief beyond what she herself perceived, but Mrgan didn’t strike her as someone superstitious. Mallorie didn’t doubt that something existed out there, as Morgan stated. What they were, she was reluctant to guess.
Spirits it is, then.
Mallorie nodded at Morgan’s assessment of the other sense, but said little more. Listened to the captain’s words on Halo’s political state, instead.
“So the last warden was an outlander, like me? That seems…”
Odd, to say the least. Mallorie’s experience of leadership had largely been that the people usually demanded it of a local, rather than one deemed an outsider. But perhaps the politicking here was as practical as its people; making use of what - or who - was available.
Mallorie settled on, “open-minded” and tried not to smirk.
“A leadership that walks among the people, she said, carefully, “as opposed to standing above them.”
The palace comment came as no surprise. The building had been fascinating to look upon, but Mallorie knew icons when she saw them. The bigger the seat the more likely it, and not the arse upon’t, held the power.
She cast a look at their surroundings, still largely bereft of potential guards, and cleared her throat.
“The guard aren’t beholden to the warden, but the people. That seems fair.”
They won't stop our evolution. Who do you think we are?
Morgan was used to slightly odd looks when she let her more spiritual side loose; she found that people tended to assume that her ferociousness and strength had to come at odds with an appreciation for the unknowable. In her experience the two often went together well, her more warrior side gathering its well-needed patience and empathy from the parts of her that were more spiritual, and that side gaining strength and determination from her sword and training.
Mallorie didn't ask for anything on that though and Morgan was quite happy to keep those things to herself; Neron was something that was far easier to speak on. "Mm. He was put in place by the Eirachi, a powerful spirit-Goddess from the Tundra...we thought that was a good sign." Clearly, it had not been.
It seemed that Mallorie understood the best way to run things. Morgan nodded agreeably, something close to hope in her heart that Halo might yet find itself in an era of democracy and justice. "Is that how it was where you were a guard previously?"
Fight against your execution. Who do you think we are?
The other woman seemed happy enough to not delve into detail regarding the nature of the area’s ‘spirits’, so Mallorie didn’t push. She suspected she wouldn’t enjoy the topic if she did.
She frowned and fiddled with the shield a little.
“The spirits get involved with politics here?” Mallorie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “Or is it that politics involves itself with spirits?”
Not that it mattered, she supposed.
Morgan’s question made her pause, though she seemed very much on board with what Mallorie said. Mallorie answered carefully.
“Where I’m from the guards were expected to know the people they guarded. Knowing made them something more than just an idea. Gave us a tangible thing to protect.”
She ached suddenly, a pang of homesickness taking her by surprise. She rubbed her chest absently but continued.
“I served the will of the people and the law of the land, not whoever claimed to rule it. Though…” Mallorie faltered for a moment. “Sometimes I found myself at odds with my colleagues. For example, the concept of execution...”
Her lips curled slightly, disdainfully, but she didn’t finish the thought.
They won't stop our evolution. Who do you think we are?
Morgan paused, trying to consider Mallorie's question over. If she wanted to pedantic she could point out how the spirits affected everything, from the air they breathed to the ground they walked on, that they had to influence politics because they influenced everything - but Gods, she didn't want to start sounding that much like her mother.
"Usually, they don't. I...I'm not sure, what it was, that made Eirachi help Neron like that. It's certainly made me question her judgement, as much as that pains me to say." She had always been raised to show the spirit-goddess respect and the words felt rough and hard to get out, but it was difficult to see anything else except the mistake now that Neron's reign was over.
Mallorie's words on guarding hit a sore spot in Morgan, something she had been trying to correct desperately over the last few days. "I realised, when the gate attack happened and our guards were lost...that I hardly knew some of them, never mind the people of the Citadel. I was ashamed; I am trying to work to improve that." She supposed this was a start. If Mallorie was to be one of her new guards, at least she could say she'd put in some effort to get to know her.
"Execution is very rare here." Morgan wasn't sure if she was trying to comfort Mallorie, but at least it was the truth. "We are much more likely to exile, though...it is often a death sentence of it's own, with the mountains..." And the cannibals, she thought, but that had been hopefully solved and she didn't want to bring that up to a newcomer unless very necessary. "Usually though, we focus on community services for those that have offended. It depends on the severity of the crime."
Fight against your execution. Who do you think we are?
Spirits getting involved in politics still made Mallorie’s head spin a little, so she nodded at Morgan’s attempt to explain and decided to leave the topic alone. It seemed too alien, too new still for her to really understand.
The other woman’s admission over her guards...steeled Mallorie. She owed Morgan her life, that much was established, but she felt like maybe she and her were of a mind. Someone who cared about the lives of those under her command, who didn’t think of them as little more than drones for her bidding...this was a woman who led through loyalty instead of fear. Whose mistakes had led her to improvement instead of stagnation.
Mallorie met Morgan’s gaze steadily. Calm in her resolve.
“That’s a noble goal. A captain who thinks of their men as people is one you can trust.”
No execution was...good. Most of Mallorie’s disagreements in the past had been with those demanding blood on the basis of some idle concept of ‘justice’; usually just the cheap dress they chose to wrap vengeance in. She felt more and more that this was the right choice, that she belonged here somehow.
She also felt like she’d made a good choice in trusting Morgan.
“Exile is a...harsh choice. Though in the case of most extreme crimes, it gives a fighting chance to the perpetrator. Halo’s focus is on rehabilitation then?”
Makes sense. Halo is harsh enough without offing every other petty criminal. She thought, but politely didn’t point out.
They won't stop our evolution. Who do you think we are?
"I'm glad you think so. People have often told me they find me...intimidating." Morgan looked over Mallorie's face as she said this, as if to discover if the Outlander shared this opinion. "With the new guard I will build, I am hoping to foster close relationships between all." It was easier said than done, but she was willing to put the work in, even if it meant working very hard to keep from being her usual stoic self.
Morgan wasn't sure if rehabilitation was the word exactly: usually petty criminals were given a night or so to sober up in the jail then tossed back to their families with a warning. Repeat offenders ended up out in the cold. Still, she supposed it was better than an execution model; she nodded. "I would rather have citizens that aim to be better than dead ones. Besides, we have often found that when someone is stealing or whatever else, if we attempt to solve the problem at the base of their troubles, we have better results."
Not that it was always that easy, but the theory was there.
Fight against your execution. Who do you think we are?
Mallorie peered at Morgan. She supposed she could see how someone might be intimidated by a woman so forthright, and not given to small talk. Especially with the strength of mind she projected. Personally, Mallorie felt respect rather than apprehension. A recognition of her own kind in the other woman.
She huffed, “I’ve been told similar”, before nodding her approval at Morgan’s plans for cohesion between her guards. “Laying the groundwork now will serve us well in future. Your guards will have more faith in a captain who can remember their names.”
The model proposed by Halo seemed far more forgiving than Mallorie expected. Exile aside, the Halo guards seemed much more dedicated to...well. Guarding. She had colleagues in her own life who seemed more concerned with being arbiters of right and wrong, rather than protecting the people they were supposed to shield.
Such a strange thing. She had to change worlds to find a place that matched her view.
Mallorie, for the first time since her arrival, relaxed.
“I’m glad to hear good sense is prized here, even among the guard.”
They won't stop our evolution. Who do you think we are?
A hint of an amused smile graced Morgan's face as she noticed Mallorie analysing her so intensely, as if to try and make herself find her intimidating. "You have? Hm. Perhaps it's just a word for a woman who knows how to handle herself." It had not escaped Morgan's notice that her male colleagues never gained such labels when they gave commands and honed their fighting crafts.
Mallorie seemed optimistic for the future and that filled Morgan with a kind of pride and hope too; perhaps they would find a way to rise out of this. In any case, this new guard was certainly a move in the right direction. "If you act with good sense, you will rarely find any trouble with me."
With that said, there was plenty to be done and another nervous soul approaching the table. Hoping Mallorie would understand, Morgan smiled and nodded then moved on, beginning the process again with the next recruit.
{FIN}
Fight against your execution. Who do you think we are?
