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!
"Didn't understand any of it," she stated, with a shrug. "Here." She held the bottle out, "Perhaps I should've brought food, instead." She mused, moving to draw the bottle of alcohol back to her chest. Noah would probably panic if she brought it home.
"If you're looking for my knife, it's on my left hip." She made no move to retrieve the knife herself, mainly because the look in his eyes as his gaze roamed over her made her think that'd be a bad idea. "Will you eat, if I pay?" She raised an eyebrow, "And let me clean? Smells like you're living in filth. That just makes it worse, you know." Her words are firmly spoken, in a quiet tone.
"Things that help," she began, as if speaking from a book she had read, "Clean body, clean room, good food, sleep." Her tone was monotone, as she relayed the memory of a book on grief, something someone had bought her when she was a girl, and her parents had died.
Presumed dead, she had to add, silently, to herself. "But there are other... less conventional ways too. But you have to eat before I show you those."
How can I begin again? How can I try to love someone new, someone who isn’t you?
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
He stared at her as she rattled on, talking like she knew him. As if they had been acquainted for years, and this was just the first time merting up after a long time apart. It made absolutely no sense. He had no idea what she was doing here, what she wanted, and frankly he didn't give a fuck about any of the things she advocated. It seemed like she really didn't grasp the part where he didn't care about food or filth or feeling better.
The thing that did get to him was the bottle in her hand. When she made to withdraw it, Korbin snatched it out of her grip and withdrew his guard on the door, turning as he retreated into the room. "You're crazy. Do whatever, I don't care."
A raven lived on his back. It was massive, life like, covering all of his upper back and shoulders. The beak opened into a silent caw along the back of his neck, the inkwork so detailed that it seemed to breathe when Korbin moved.
He had left the door open. Didn't have the energy to throw her out. The way he moved was over careful, the room spinning dangerously around him.
The very thought of food made him nauseous.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine was well-aware her go-to tactic, of simply speaking like she knew someone, often caused people to distrust her, to call her crazy. Maybe she was. Her lips curled, and he snatched the bottle, turning his back to her and entering the room.
He basically gave her permission, and she entered, nose crinkling. Her gaze wandered over the large tattoo that covered his back, and hazel eyes memorized the beautiful markings, noting how he moved. Too drunk to do anything about her, probably. Alder used to get drunk like that.
"You need some bread," she exclaimed, lifting the small bag on her shoulder, which housed the things she was trading, as well as the things she'd just purchased. She pulled a bit of bread off, and chewed it, studying the mess of a room.
First thing was first. Before the man could stumble to the bed, the little blonde was pulling the bedsheets off, to replace them from a nearby stack of mostly-clean, but discarded sheets. Once the sheets were changed, she went off to find a broom, and probably a mop.
Aggressive housekeeping. Just Delphine's style.
How can I begin again? How can I try to love someone new, someone who isn’t you?
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
It was a small tornado gone astray, and Korbin let it rampage. When the bed was denied to him, he staggered to the lone table and chair by the window instead, and slumped down upon it, prying open the bottle as he went.
Paying no heed to the bread, he took swigs from the drink and stared into the darkness that hovered outside. A few pinpricks of light suggested that not all of Snowcloak had turned in for the night. If he leaned off to the right, he would be able to see the lights from the Kraai. And just beyond, there was an empty gap where the roof of his house used to be.
Korbin closed his eyes. Did not lean over to look. In the fireplace, embers smoldered; the room was cool, but his insides burned with liqour. It was a crime to let fires go out in Halo.
Weaver had always nagged at him about it.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
06-04-2020, 02:27 PM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2020, 02:27 PM by Delphine.)
Delphine
Delphine returned with cleaning supplies and a tea kettle, and murmured to herself about the fire, as she moved to revive it, tossing dry pieces of kindling over top of heavier pieces of wood. Noah had taught her well, how to keep a fire going. She prepared the kettle as well. Once the fire was acting on its own, she began to sweep, silently thinking.
She wasn't looking forward to showing up at home, after dark. But she was pretty sure Noah would understand. Probably. "You know, at least in this world you know the gods are real. Where I'm from, if you were not brought back from the dead, you simply... disappeared."
She swept his room, tossing various trash into a trashcan in the hallway, before she began to mop. Delphine worked quickly, because cleaning was something she knew. Once she was finished, she returned the supplies to the cart outside of his room, and settled two cups in front of him on the table, moving to pour tea from the now-heated kettle.
"It was scarier, to die back home. But we... I had the power to bring back the dead, as long as they brought me there quickly enough. But every time I did, parts of myself died." She moved to pry the bottle from his hands, "But it was my job to die for the people, to keep as many of them alive as long as I could. Living was the hardest thing to do, when I knew each time I helped somebody, another piece of my soul died out. I like to think it was like a star, dying into the night, the night sky so dark with death."
She'd continue to try to take the bottle away from him, "But here? I've seen the souls of my children, as Ludo drew them from their little bodies... So small, and peaceful on the ground, but their souls so bright, vibrant," she smiled briefly. If she hadn't gotten the bottle away by now, she would give up and settle against the wall to sip at the tea she'd poured for herself.
The silence was long, deafening.
How can I begin again? How can I try to love someone new, someone who isn’t you?
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Her voice was grating, scraping his nerves, fraying patience that never really existed in the first place. The topic meant nothing to him, only carried some 'better than thou, you should be grateful' undertone that made his hackles rise. A growl began to rumble at the back of his throat, inaudible but there, present in the tension that grew more palpable around him with every word.
He did not relinquish his hold on the bottle, and would shove her away with the brusque jerk of an arm if she lingered too long in his space.
The scent of the tea made his stomach turn, nausea bubbling in the throat. If the air was lighter and less foul, it only made the reek of his own unwashed body more pronounced. It annoyed him that he even noticed it.
"Get out," he said softly, the words made more dangerous by how quiet they were.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine studied the man silently, before she finished her tea and moved to leave. After all, she couldn't force the man to take a bath, and she had done what she had intended.
Left food, a fire, a cleaner room. "Don't aspirate on your own vomit," she murmured, as she shut the door behind of her, with a click. Bundling up as she went, she headed out the door and through the darkness.
Home to a warm fire, and someone who did want her company. She knew she couldn't fix them all.
-FIN-
How can I begin again? How can I try to love someone new, someone who isn’t you?
