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!
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
"Yeah, I know. You have one. Pretty bad, but I've seen worse too. That's what happens when you let your guard down. Grabbing and holding ain't the same, dumbass." The plank or perhaps Chulane's crisis seemed to have made the lock on Korbin's tongue come undone. He had a lot to say about the sorry attempt to restrain him, and saw no reason to hold back as he hauled the man onto his feet.
"M'head is fine," he replied, when the idiot kept worrying about it. "It's just a bit of blood. Weaver has done far worse in training -" but he cut himself off, choking on the words. On the reminder. For a moment, he had forgotten.
But now it rushed back in, and he didn't say anything else while they walked.
The whole thing would have been a lot easier if Korbin had been sober. Able to think clearly, see properly - though it was still better than for Chuy - and most importantly, walk in a straight line.
But that was not happening, so the two boys wound up staggering in the general direction of that door. By now, their approach and the general ruckus outside had been noticed, and a startled woman opened to let them inside. By the time the door closed behind him, Korbin was pale and shivering, lips blue from the cold. The shop was warm, braziers heating the air; he was guided back into a curtained off area where a table and chairs sat before a roaring fire.
Carefully, Korbin eased Chulane down to sit in on of the chairs. The shop keeper brought a medical kit - of of Loren's, he noted absently - and after thanking her, Korbin sent her out to find a healer.
"Stay awake," he told Chulane, as he cleaned off his numb, trembling hands as best he could. "I need to look at that wound. Might need stitches."
Whatever glimmer of normalcy that had appeared was gone again, and his tone was clipped, tight between the clattering teeth.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Dumbass, he called him, and in this moment, Chuy agreed with the raven-boy, and also found some semblance of wholesome warmth. There was something of a playfulness in the banter, even if they were just exchanging rough words, throwing various insults at each other. It was a change from the stony silence or indifference between them before. "Nah yeh jus' got a lucky shot in mate," Chuy replied, his accented tones slurring slightly as he tried to keep up with the jabs, retorting as best he can.
The newfound communication pathway was apparently destined to be short-lived though, as the casual, flippant tones turned suddenly into a topic that was evidently taboo. Even in his addled state, Chuy knew not to react, and followed Korbin's lead to fall into silence as they stumbled the rest of the way to wherever it was they were headed.
Heat enveloped them, Chuy barely recalling the wobbly walk that got them there, his blurry gaze finally focussing on the private area they had managed to secure in a small shop. Bruising was starting to colour his temple, leaking over onto his forehead - he could only imagine what the back of his head looked like, matted hair with blood and snow.
But the warmth was comforting, as he sat and promptly shut his eyes against the brightness, knowing on some level that he shouldn't be so ready to succumb to the lull of exhaustion that now pulled at him, but unable to resist it. Korbin's words being him sharply back though, and his thoughts come rushing back too, as yet another wave of nausea has his head spinning. No vomit rises this time though, but he does take some long, steadying breaths, before refocussing, this time slightly better, on the bloodstained boy before him.
Korbin was a mess. Barely keeping it together, though making a very concerted effort to. "I'm real sorry, mate." His low voice said, his pale blue eyes seeking to hold the boy's. He was apologising for everything in the one statement: for trying to restrain him (even if he only meant to do so to help the boy), for the pain and downright crappiness that was grief and loss he was going through, for the way his presence seemed to just irritate the boy (though just now they had found a banter, a rhythm, a way to communicate to each other, could they get to that point again, even despite this obstacle?).
06-03-2020, 06:30 AM (This post was last modified: 06-03-2020, 08:24 AM by Korbin.)
KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Muscles worked in his jaws, silence swallowing the apology and made Chulane's words flop dead and dull to the floor. Not unheard, but...
Korbin met his gaze for only a brief instant before turning away. There was a world of pain in those blue eyes, and no amount of alcohol or shock could drown it out. It was only Chulane's immediate need that kept his hands moving, and the work absorbed all of Korbin's focus.
With clean(er) hands he found washcloth and bowl, and removed the blood soaked cloth from the cut. His hands were strangely gentle compared to the harsh words, and he rinsed off the wound and the scalp methodically, patient enough to do it thoroughly.
"Me too," he mumbled, after a good while. Brushing Chulane's hair aside, he finally was able to get a look at the wound. It was smaller than expected. Bleeding like a curse, but not deep, and not so wide that it needed sewing. Korbin reached for a compress and a roll of bandage.
"You'll be fine. It's not deep... won't even scar." Whether that was good or bad he left for Chulane to decide.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
06-04-2020, 05:10 AM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2020, 05:11 AM by Chulane.)
Both of the men were hurting, though arguably Chuy's hurt right now was more physical than emotional. His head still felt like it was ready to split open, like some obnoxious person was pounding on his very brain with a battering ram, but the waves of nausea were lessening, and he was able to focus a bit clearer as time went by.
Korbin's pain was arguably deeper, and far more permanent than his concussion. The farmer wished he could reach into Korbin and bear the pain for him, carry him through this tough time so that he could get back to living. But nothing in life was that easy - the raven-boy would need to endure this alone.
Time passed, though a lot of it went by in a blur of medical ministrations by the boy. Chulane let him work, trusting him to do what was right, and able to correct him as his thoughts became clearer if needed. A soft mumble sounded from the boy, and Chuy sounded a soft murmuring noise of acknowledgement, not wanting to move lest he disrupt the efforts Korbin was making on his wound.
"No mighty battle scars to show off? You'll have to get a better shot in next time mate." He half-heartedly tried to joke, to show that he had no hard feelings for the boy. He was getting better, though he was suddenly thirsty. It could wait, though.
"You're not bad at this whole healer thing, y'know. You could'a left me." He spoke the words softly, not jesting or joking around, but just quietly commenting, to see what the boy might have to say in response.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
A last round of bandage to keep everything in place - brain, blood, wits if there were any left - and then Korbin tied it off with a knot. He even remembered at the last minute not to slap the man on the shoulder, and started to clean up after himself. He was quiet, not sure what to answer. The thought of leaving had never even entered his mind, but why was too deep a question. Those were not waters Korbin was ready to enter just now.
"I'm the one who's done with life," he mumbled in the end, as he found a glass and filled it with water. "Doesn't mean I'm trying to drag others down with me." He pressed the glass into Chuy's hands, made sure he had it and started to turn away.
A new kind of pain was working in his chest. Aching, gnawing, tender to the touch. It tasted almost like regret.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
"Korbin." he said, after more words had been spoken, after a gulp of the water had been drunk, after his head had been patched up with clean cloth. He felt a bit like a mummy, probably looked like one too, but none of that mattered, as he forced his mind to get through the pain and focus on what he wanted to say before the boy disappeared off into the world of grief again. But what could he even say? What words could communicate the point he was trying to get into the boy's head?
His own head pounded, though he was almost getting used to it, a dull roar in the back of his skull. But Korbin wasn't stupid, Chuy had never thought that of the boy, he was just young, and has been handed a fucking brutal life to live and endure.
Chulane couldn't even say he'd respond differently had he been dealt a similar hand.
He breathed a deep, shaky sigh, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand as he tried to form a sentence. The words just wouldn't come though - he wanted to say so much. Can't you see how everyone wants to help you now? You could've left me, just as we could leave you wallow and rot and die in your grief. But life has value - all life, even if you cannot see the value in your own. Fucking hell, concussions suck.
"Seriously… thank you." He didn't really know why he was saying thank you to the one who knocked him down, he didn't really know much of anything beyond the pain. "Where're you stayin' now? I'll need routine check ups for a while.."
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
"Why are you thanking me, I'm the one who brained you." Korbin didn't know that he echoed the other man's thoughts, and had no qualms with saying what came to mind. He gave Chulane a considering look, assessing the man's condition. Sitting, talking, drinking...
"I doubt it. Once a proper healer has seen to you with magic, you'll be right back to normal again. I don't have the gift; if Loren were here you'd be doing cartwheels by now."
Slumping down on another of the chairs, Korbin poured another glass of water and kept it for himself. He only held it between his hands though. Not shaking anymore, his lips were slowly returning to their usual color. With a damp cloth he began to wipe dry and drying blood from his face.
Conveniently, he forgot to reply to the question of where he lived. Chuy wouldn't appreciate the answer, and the guy was in no condition to get worked up.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
06-04-2020, 11:30 AM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2020, 11:30 AM by Chulane.)
A humourless laugh rushed through his lips as Korbin echoed the very same thoughts he had when he had given the thanks. He gave a half-shrug, any more and he probably would've fallen over. "Still, you didn't leave me. And I'm grateful." he insisted softly, not caring at how ridiculous it sounded.
He scoffed a bit, waving a hand at the idea of another healer coming at him with magic. "I don't want any of that. Let me learn my lesson properly. Traditionally." If dealing with this concussion, with this pounding headache, and the dizziness and the nausea for a few days improved the odd dynamic between he and Korbin, he'd deal with it.
"You're my healer, mate. Where're you at?" he asked again, taking a swig from his water.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
"That's a ridiculous notion. You won't get better at fighting by suffering through a concussion." Korbin's tone grew curt, the old bite coming back even though it was only a shadow of itself. He didn't like this insistence, it would force interactions that he didn't want. Already his thoughts were returning towards the tavern, the booze, the oblivion he still craved... now more then ever. There had been a vague plan to hand him over to the healer and be on his way.
And yet, if Chulane kept insisting then the healer wouldn't use magic. Wouldn't do anything without consent, really. Korbin would end up saddled with this idiot, even though he didn't want to.
"Never mind. If you're going to be a fool then it's on you. I've done all I can." If there were complications, Korbin couldn't fix them anyway. What good would checkups do? Either the guy was fine or he was not; at least he wasn't dying in the snow.
Just like last time, Korbin had no wish to be responsible for what happened after this. It had nothing to do with him.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
"Maybe so, but at least I'll have a proper appreciation for guarding my head better." Gods but it hurt. He took another drink, swallowing the liquid along with his temptation to go ahead and accept the magical means of healing when it is offered to him. Perhaps if complications did arise, he would indeed accept it, but for now, he would suffer the consequences of his actions wholly and completely.
"So you'll check on me, right?" He pressed, his voice becoming softer as his insistence became weaker, shaky. There was only so much he would push the so-called ridiculous notion, his resolve wanting to hold on until he was successful and yet he also wasn't sure whether he had it in him to out-stubborn Korbin.
"Why help me at all? Why should I be healed the quick way?" he asked the questions he had skirted around before, aiming it a bit more directly at the point now.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Korbin's jaws clenched again, his patience fraying rapidly at the edges. He hated this kind of weedling, that seemed to beg for attention.
"Do you want to suffer?" he asked bluntly, skirting the questions and countering with one of his own. "If so, go right ahead. I can put you back where you were too, and let you die. Just say the word. Either way you'll be out of my hair, and the sooner the better."
He would not get in the way if this guy truly wanted to end things. But Korbin didn't think Chulane was so inclined. He was too annoyingly chipper for that, and no doubt Kiada would drag him back from Mort's realm by the hair if he tried.
"If you want to be mothered, ask your girl. I'm not a nursemaid." Nor was he an actual healer. Just an apprentice, with neither motivation nor inclination to keep at it.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
The boy was determined to be stubborn, to defy anything Chulane suggested. Chuy frowned, mostly from actual pain, the rest from frustration. He had a hand still pressed to his forehead, but it moved to pinch the bridge of his nose instead.
"Stop twisting my words you obstinate little shit." He retorted sharply, in about as annoyed a tone as he could ever muster. He was sick of it, of the gaslighting, the diverting, the ducking away from owning this one simple good deed, or accepting any help in return.
"Why, Korbin? Why? You claim you'd dump me back out there, and yet when you actually had the chance to, you didn't. Why?" He was looking at the boy now, his mind still foggy from the incessant ache, but he forced himself to focus, to at least ask the question.
He wanted an answer, but he wouldn't be surprised if he earned another hit to his face instead. Surely on some level Korbin could see the hypocriticalness of it all, could empathise with how they all saw him, as a lost, hurt boy needing help. It was only natural to want to help, right?
There was no quick-fix for what Korbin was going through, but there was a way forward, if only he could find it, accept the gentle guidance and help offered to him, and begin those first steps out of the abyss.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
He was a what now? The snap was so unexpected that Korbin sat up straighter, staring at Chulane like it was the first time he saw the guy. His gaze started to waver as the other went on however, ducking away from that fixed stare. The boy rolled his shoulders, twisting in a seat that was suddenly turned uncomfortable, and he chewed his cheek like it had offended him. Glared into the void, carefully not looking at Chuy.
Truth was, he didn't know. Couldn't say why he hadn't run away from what he'd caused, except that it's how he was raised. Clean up your mess. Deal with the shit in front of you. If you break it, mend it.
"It was just fucking reflex." The reply was a sullen murmur, angry and tense. The same ingrained reaction that had him drag stray idiots home from the Tundra. Boy, did he regret it. He really ought to stop giving in to that shit, it kept coming back to bite him.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Finally he seemed to get Korbin's attention, seemed to have his words stick a bit longer than normal. He wasn't completely dismissed, wasn't totally brushed aside before his words even had a chance to finish sounding. Chuy was surprised that it had worked, that his annoyance seemed to stick better than his otherwise kind demeanour.
The boy didn't seem keen to prolong the eye contact though, squirming and shifting under Chuy's icy gaze. At least he didn't try to hit him again, or turf him out onto the street. When he did finally reply, Chulane scoffed quietly, then winced at the pain the small action caused him. Deserved that, he thought of the instant punishment he had received for his rude reaction, at least the kid seems to be understanding something now.
"Just a reflex." He repeated softly, his tone back to its usual cool temper. "Well, you have good reflexes." He offered with a hint of a smirk, purposefully not defining whether he meant his reflexes as a healer, or a fighter. It faded quickly,
He came to a belated realisation that he was quiet overly warm. Looking down at himself, he saw Korbin's overcoat still slung over his own. Shrugging it off slowly and carefully so as not to jostle his head too much, he folded it once on itself and handed it back, before taking another drink from the cup of water.
