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!
06-01-2020, 06:10 PM (This post was last modified: 06-01-2020, 06:12 PM by Noah.)
Noah
The people of Halo were not ones to hide any information from turning over each household. The fact that Korbin had burned down the Hale house did not take long to reach the Olson man on the lips of his neighbors. Nor did it take him long to react to it. He initially went to the site of the destruction. He stood before the Hale house, clinging to his cloak. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of his friend, and fear gripped him at the idea of also losing Korbin. For as hardy of a man as he was, he could only handle so much heartbreak. Turning, he shifted. Large feet were replaced with cloven hooves, warmth returning to him as his reindeer form sheltered him.
He moved through Snowcloak in his reindeer form, keen eyes searching for the raven. He thought the younger man might be more willing to speak to him with the privacy the bond offered. Korbin? his mind question, reaching out with seeking tendrils for the other Halovian. Worry could not help but grip the bottom of the hunter's heart. Korbin was his friend. Though he was not the first one to express his care for the raven, Noah still needed to find him. He reached out again, cursed voice questioning: Korbin?
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
He had taken refuge in the aviary. Huddled in together with the other ravens against the cold, the black bird did his best to avoid everyone he knew. Loren and Kiada most of all. There was only so much he could take of their persistant efforts to keep him 'safe.' No one talked to him here. No one tried to cheer him up or told him how he would get used to it, how the pain would become familiar, how he should press on for their sake, if nothing else.
Korbin heard Noah's thoughts call for him, but did not answer. The raven closed its eyes tightly and tucked the beak in under a wing, trying his best to close it out. Pictures of Weaver floated through his mind. Smiling, frowning, scowling and weary, bright and cheerful, fiercely determined. Snippets of conversation came to him, the fragments of her voice so faint and fragile... He clung to them, desperate to hold on. Refused to let them fade.
Memories was all he had left now. And much as it hurt to examine them - like digging a knife into an open wound - it was all he could do. If he wasn't allowed to join her, then...
But the raven couldn't close off the emotions that leeched from him, like oil tainting pure waters. Dark, heavy, brooding and tinged with pain... It was all the answer the raindeer would get.
The reindeer continued to search for the raven. He was nowhere to be found in usual spots that Noah might had guessed, and so he stood at the bottom of the stairs of the one place that was left, the aviary. It was there that the raging, twisting, curling, deafening emotion of the Hale reached him. His own heart twisted as he was overwhelmed by the younger man's emotions through the bond. He hesitated, front hooves perched on the bottom step of the spiraling staircase. He knew he could fit up the stairs without having to shift back to human form, the winter having taken his rack from his head. He hesitated only because he let Korbin's emotions fill him wholly.
There was silence from his end of the bond as he let Korbin overwhelm him. His own memories of Weaver turned over and over in his mind. She had been a good friend to him, and though his love for her did not even touch the amount of her brother, Noah was grieving as well. Finally, the reindeer climbed the staircase. It was more awkward to move his body around the spiral as a reindeer than it was a man, but his hooves aided him well against the ice and snow. Reaching the top, Noah let out a small grunt. Blue eyes roamed the birds, looking for the blue of Korbin's eyes he knew he kept in the shift. He did not find the eyes, but he did find a puffed-up raven that did not look at him as he approached.
The deer moved, bond silent through his own emptiness in the moment, before finally settling against the wall that the raven he guessed to be Korbin perched on. He curled his legs beneath himself and rested his shoulder against the wall. When he was settled, he finally let his mind fill again. He had no words, he only tried to give some semblance of support for the younger man.
He did not press his own feelings onto him, he did not try to tell him to move on. He rested sentinel: grieving with he who grieved.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
The sounds the raindeer made as it shambled into the room unsettled the birds. Visitors were not uncommon, but this was no bringer of food nor carrier of messages. It was a creature that did not belong, and there was much fluffing of feathers and clapping of beaks before the majority decided that the intruder was not an immediate threat.
Only one did not move at all, or react to the presence at all. But that didn't mean Korbin was unaware of Noah's being there. The hunter's mere presence intruded upon the rumination on Weaver, broke his concentration until the memories fled. Faded into the void, where all the rest his family dwelled.
Once, he had thought of the Olson brothers as practically family. Close knit, good friends and always reliable.
Korbin realized now how wrong he was. It was not at all the same. There was no way for Noah to take the place Weaver had vacated. No one could. They were not blood, not kin, and whatever other bonds that might have existed were so very flimsy. So easy to snap.
Korbin wished for nothing more than to sever them all. Maybe then he might be free to...But probably not. There were too many good samaritans around ready to impose their so called 'help' on him.
He wished the raindeer would just leave. The shift in his emotions reflected in the bond; a slowly building resentment, like so many prickly vines with sharp barbs. Without words the raven still issued an air that bid the hunter to leave.
Noah did not want to take away Korbin's suffering. While it might be easier if the man did not grieve the loss of his sister, Noah knew the process needed to happen. Korbin was no stranger to this feeling of grief, Noah knew, and it was different feeling it as an adult than as a child. He, too, knew that. The last few weeks were some of the hardest weeks Noah had dealt with since the passing of his parents. With his brother leaving to explore the world, the killing of the exile in the tundra, the attack of the Citadel and the death of Weaver, Noah, too, was drowning in pain.
He would not try to compare his grief to Korbin's, but the Olson was on his own journey through it.
He felt the rising anger across the bond. He did not move. The hunter was too stubborn to leave. He was too stubborn to let Korbin push him aside. If the raven wanted to feel angry at the world, at Noah, he would let him. While the younger may be ready to sever the ties that bound them, he was not. The reindeer lowered his head and curled his neck, settling in. The other ravens calmed around them as Noah settled, too.
He let his own mind fill with his memories of Weaver. He felt admiration towards the woman, of her determined spirit. He let the memories of her punches to his arms, her greetings, her teasing, their hunting, all of it rest. He did not try to press any of his own emotions over towards Korbin, but he let them rest in the open for the raven to hold them, should he chose so.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Korbin shied away from even the suggestion of Noah's memories. Couldn't stomach them, in the same way he couldn't bring himself to set foot in the Kraai anymore. It raised the pain to maddening levels, the kinds that triggered his need to escape it all. His mind shut down trying to protect itself from the pain, yet nothing in this place, in this town, in this life could truly remove the image of Weaver. She was everywhere. Every street and every shop sang with her presence, every person met on the street, each slow awakening when the bottle no longer managed to keep him unconsciousnes recalled what used to be, and what was no more.
Being reminded killed him, and forgetting killed him. And yet he was kept alive, not allowed to die. He would see her again, when his own life ended... but the thought of countless years spanning out before him before that was allowed to happen, without her, brought him nothing but despair.
Without her. Without his sister. His best friend, voice of reason and light in the dark.
What was the point in anything anymore? Why try to get through any of these disasters; his own killing of an exile, the curses, destruction of his home, the death of his last remaining family... why deal with any of it, when there was nothing on the other side but more of the same?
Even his anger was pointless. A mere reflection of helplessness to decide his own fate. Apprently he was allowed to do whatever he wanted except the one thing he truly wanted, and for arbitrary reasons that meant nothing to him.
What did he care about others? They were not Weaver.
The raven shifted on its perch, but it was only to turn its back on the reindeer, and tuck the head further beneath the wing.
The memories were there. Noah let the last image of Weaver fade across his eyes, finally his thoughts going blank. He would miss her. This town would miss her. She was a force to be reckoned with, and without her there would be a whole unable to be filled in. She certainly left a lasting impression on those she encountered, good, bad, or indifferent. Noah admired that Weaver was never one to back down from who she was.
As he let his memories fade away to darkness, he did not feel Korbin's emotions change or shift again in the bond. The younger man was merely there, his presence dark and sorrowful and resentful. Noah wanted to help him, and he was sure others did too, but he did not know what to do. His presence seemed to only made the raven angry, his solidarity nothing to him. Even that hurt Noah, but he tucked that away. He could not focus on himself right now. He wouldn't allow it. He had searched for Korbin and found him. He just wanted to make sure that the Hale knew he was here, for whatever he needed, even if it was to hate something Noah would let it be him.
Finally, the reindeer let words slip through towards Korbin. "What do you need?"
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
If only he could muster enough interest to actually hate. Fruitless and barren though it was, even hate would grant the purpose and direction needed to keep going. Love might too, if there had been anyone who had even a fraction of the place Weaver possessed in his heart.
But there was no one he cared about enough. Not even this stalwart hunter who had so much to give. Maybe it was a fundamental difference in their nature. Maybe Noah was just a better person than Korbin. Maybe the raven had never actually been good. Only helping and smiling and being there because it served him.
Even had the glimmer of hurt in the other man been allowed to show through, Korbin wouldn't have been moved by it, save perhaps to feel a vague sense of shame for not being who they all seemed to think. The picture they all painted of him - smart and skilled and strong, generous and caring - it was very pretty, and it would have been nice to be all that.
But he wasn't. And pretending otherwise would let them all down in the end. Himself included.
So what did he want? What did he need, above and beyond everything else? It was so obvious that Korbin was surprised that Noah even had to ask.
"Weaver," came the quiet reply.
And with his sister's name came an echo of the abbyss he stared into, that swallowed him, that he couldn't and didn't wish to escape.
The reindeer pulled his legs in tighter, tucking his hooves beneath his warm body. He rested his chin on his knee. He listened to the noise of the rest of the birds, waiting for Korbin's response to him. When it came, he merely closed his eyes. Sorrow burst forth through the bond without hindrance--Noah was unable to stop the emotion from overwhelming his own heart and mind. "We could find Mort?" He said, anger at the question mark flaring at the end of his sentence tensing his words. It was not time for him to share his curse with the Hale, but he probably already had guessed it based on the way Noah seemed to question everything when they tried to salvage what was left in the Palace.
While Noah could not bring Weaver back, he wished he could. He was sure that wish was held by many Halovians. So many citizens would have gladly given their life for her's. It was unfortunate what happened to her, truly, but part of it seemed to be the Hale fate. Erebor had been brought down by a creature of the tundra, and so had Weaver. He did not want to think of what might grab for Korbin. "Have you visited a Shrine to ask the god to speak with her?"
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
The words were a drop of water disrupting the still surface of a pond. Ripples spread, rose, billowed as hope surged, thoughts and ideas growing like flowers in the snow. Maybe Mort would give her back, maybe Ludo would bargain for something, maybe he could see her, hear her, feel her just one more time...
But then, it all faded, as quickly as it had begun. Because.. what then? Would he force her away from the others? From mom and dad, from Erebor? Even if the god of death relented, what was he dragging her back to? And if he could see her again, what would he say? What could she say, that would be any different from what he already knew?
She would tell him to keep going. That there was hope, that she wasn't everything. That she would be waiting, and he shouldn't hurry.
Korbin knew her. He didn't have to wonder why she had gone out there to fight. Why she hadn't asked him to come. He didn't have any questions.
It was never answers he needed. Only her presence in his life.
"There is no point," the raven said, after a silence that lasted an eternity.
Noah did not entirely agree with the raven. He may think there was no point, but Noah thought there might be. He had heard tales as a child of shamans speaking to spirits of loved ones lost to the tundra. While Noah had never sought this out, he never negatively judges those that did. To be able to speak to a loved one lost could keep some from the brink of joining them in the afterlife. In Noah's opinion, having Weaver speak some sense into Korbin from wherever she was now might be the kick he needed to continue to press on. The reindeer sighed. While he might not agree with the raven, now was not a time to argue his own position.
This was only a time for Noah to be here, to be present, to remind Korbin that even in his darkest moments that he would not leave him.
He couldn't.
Weaver would haunt him for the rest of his life.
The two of them, Noah and Weaver, had always worked to keep each other alive and well, and leaned on each other a for a great deal of things. The two of them were both caretakers to younger siblings, as well as caretakers for the rest of Halo. It was a lot of responsibility. Noah could not drop that responsibility, especially now that the Scythe had joined their families. Noah needed to stay, to be something that Korbin could lean on--whether it be to lash out in anger, to simply sit in silence, anything the raven might need.
Family did not abandon family, and even if Korbin might not call their ties to eachother such a thing any more, or ever at all, Noah did, and he was stubborn as hell.
But the reindeer sat in silence, trying only to keep his emotions over the bond a steady sort of brotherly love. Whether Korbin accepted it or not, Noah knew he needed to give it.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Not too long ago, Korbin had cussed Loren out for acting overly familiar. For appearing to try and take a brother's place in his life, unasked and uninvited. That had been sorted out, more or less, but it seemed there was no shortage of people who thought they could just waltz into his life and do whatever they wanted. His heart was not an open door. There was no room for new people. And an eviction order had been posted for any that tried to linger. It was a burning building, a demolition project, crumbling down into nothing.
Soon, even the foundations would be gone.
"Leave me alone," the raven sent through the bond, his thoughts edged with rising ire as he felt what Noah was projecting. It was not something he could block out, and the sentiments made his skin crawl, unease and pain and anger curdling like sour milk within.
He already had a brother. There was no room for more. His was a family of five; they would never be more.
The Olson man was too stubborn to leave. At least, leave completely. When the command, the request, is given over the bond, the reindeer let out a sigh. He clambered to his hooves, shook out his coat, but merely walked only a few feet away before curling himself back down against the wall again. He lowered his massive head to rest on his knee and glanced up towards the raven for a moment, blue eyes glinting in the darkness.
If Weaver's spirit, soul, presence was watching them, somehow, from the afterlife, and she watched Noah abandon her brother, leave him alone, Noah would surely perish.
He let his mind go blank, a thick black darkness that settled over the attuned bond. Noah closed his eyes, but listened intently to see if the younger Halovian would leave himself. If he did, Noah would not follow. That would be too much, too prying, too invasive. Instead, Noah was still there, silent, but just trying to love the grieving Hale as best as he could.
He did not believe leaving Korbin alone was loving him well--he had seen Weaver attach herself to the young raven so many times, many while he was protesting, only eventually to give in to her.
He would try. He wasn't Weaver--he wasn't trying to be--but he did care for the raven, deeply. Korbin was there at one of the hardest times Noah had faced--killing a man with his own weapons, his own hands--and had not left him. Who was Noah to abandon someone he loved in pain?
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
It was such a Weaver thing to do. The way the reindeer got up, backed away, opened up space and cut off the emotional noise... only to settle back down again. Stubbornly, annoyingly tip-toeing the line, skirting rules without quite breaking them.
It's not like this was Korbin's room. He couldn't forbid anyone from being here, and Noah fucking knew it. The fucker. Now he was forced to either share the space or relinquish it by leaving, and in both cases it was Korbin's loss.
Fuck.
If Noah wanted to piss him off, it was working. The raven swelled to almost double size as the dark feathers fluffed up, a baleful croak breaking the stillness. It made the other ravens in the room shuffle and stir, confused about the source of his anger. Wings spread and flapped, shifted and resettled, filling the air with a sound as of rustling silk.
If only he could speak to them, make them do as he wished. That many sharp beaks and raking claws would drive even a raindeer off. But the birds were more likely to escape outside than to attack.
Korbin wanted to escape too. But there was nowhere to run to.
