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?
How long did he stand outside that door, staring blankly into space before he mustered the courage to step inside? An hour? Three? It had been light in the sky when he arrived, but by the time he stumbled in it was pitch black behind him, and night clung to his bone stiff limbs with fingers of glittering frost. It melted and dripped from unkempt black hair as Korbin slowly moved further into the large room. Every step was agony, and no matter where his gaze fell, it tore out chunks of his heart, so that by the time he reached the bar, he was startled to find he was still standing up. Breathing. Beating with a life that was hollow and pointless.
Korbin always hated this place. First, it had been because it was new. Then, because Weaver loved it more than their old ways. Because she didn't need him when she was master behind this bar. And now... now he hated it because it hadn't kept her safe after all.
Gods, how much it reminded him of her. The colors, the giant hearth, the simple, cozy atmosphere and the rows of bottle glittering behind the counter. They had been sitting here, bantering and making up silly names for her drinks. They had worked together behind the counter, and she had been laughing. Always laughing.
Tears welled unbid into his eyes, and the young man wiped them away quickly, hoping no one had seen. Steeling himself, he nodded to the staff and rounded the counter, to head for the stairs leading up. He had left clothes here, stray items that suddenly had become everything he owned. When he came back down, it was little more than a bundle tucked under an arm.
He paused briefly at the bottom of the stair. As reluctant to leave as he had been to enter. Casting about for an excuse to linger, Korbin let his gaze wander between the guests.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Korbin's excuse was sitting a ways back from the roaring hearth (fire bad, first rule of Ascended club), wearing a lot less layers than those around him. Neron didn't look great exactly, but he looked a lot better than he had done, thanks to the intervention of a certain veterinarian. The thorny feelings that the encounter had left aside, he was still considering his role here in Halo, now that all was said and done.
His new best friend (i.e. the guard that they had employed to follow him everywhere, like he was a naughty child) was drinking and chatting with a few friends and colleagues; everyone needed a break, Neron supposed. So the Hailstorm sat alone, a drink in hand that he could barely taste, steel blue eyes a little sluggish. They flitted up to the movement as Korbin came from downstairs, fixing on the man for a moment or so. He recognised him as Weaver's brother of course, Neron lifting his glass in a toast for the fallen hunter.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
The glass raised in his direction was what caught Korbin's eye. His eyes narrowed when he realized exactly who was holding it. The first time he saw Neron was the night when his sister deposed the man from his spot as king of the hill. Safe to say, it hadn't been the most amiable atmosphere, and did nothing to improve his already piss poor opinion of the man.
But Korbin really couldn't bring himself to hold on to old ire. It was hard enough to just keep on his feet. The boy looked just as wrung out as the Hailstorm, and for similar reasons. A diet of air and alcohol was doing him no favors.
Rather hesitant, Korbin made his way towards the former Warden. "May I?" he asked quietly, nodding towards a chair. He hadn't sought the company of anyone since Weaver was killed, and he really couldn't say why he was doing it now. There was a wariness about him, as though he half expected to be driven off by hard words. Just like he himself did to everyone else.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Neron didn’t know what he had expected - he didn’t know what Korbin was going through, didn’t know how deep that particular rabbit hole went - but he seemed mildly surprised that the other man had approached him.
Still, he nodded in response to the boy’s question, letting him draw up a seat next to the table. Sipping at his drink and only very barely getting the burn of the whiskey, the Hailstorm glanced across to his new companion.
”I’ll save you the condolences,” he said. ”I imagine you are sick of hearing them by now. Is this place yours now, then?”
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Possibly he was even more surprised at the acquiesence than Korbin was at his own approach. Numbly, awkwardly, he pulled out a chair and sat down, not quite sure what to do with all the arms and legs he owned in abundance. In the end, he couldn't be bothered to maintain pretense; the hollows under his eyes said enough about how he was doing, and as he slumped back like one exhausted by life in general, Neron was kind enough to take the hint.
"Appreciated," he sighed, as he dragged a hand over the face, and deposited his bundle in the chair beside him. "The softer and more understanding they get, the more I want to scream."
He flinched at the question, and looked around. It had not dawned on him, but.. "I suppose it is, yes," he nodded. The last thing he had after his sister, since his attempt to join her with all the rest of the stuff had failed. "Possibly the co-founder might try to stake a claim, but... I'd sooner swallow poison than do business with Sunjata Senzaok."
It was possibly the most passionate thing Korbin had said in weeks, and by far the most normal piece of conversation. What was going on?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
”I can be sharp and uncaring if you would like. Perhaps it will have the opposite effect,” Neron said mildly. Wry humour was built into him, unfortunately, and it came out in situations like this. Following Korbin’s glance around, he wasn’t surprised at the boy’s response, though he didn’t seem particularly happy with owning the place. Ah, and then Sunjata’s name passed across his lips, and Neron wisely decided not to mention how he had promised the Flood that he might start the Kraai here in Halo.
”That bad, is he? What is the problem with him? I’m sure you will have plenty of people who knew your sister to take care of it, should he decide to darken your door. Though I wouldn’t expect that until the ice melts.” He doubted Sunjata would even know of what had happened until then.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Was that a smile ghosting across Korbin's lips? Something tugged on them, the pale memory of a humor he thought as dead as the rest of the things he once enjoyed... but maybe it was just buried under all the ashes.
"It might be a refreshing change, if nothing else," he replied, and turned dark blue eyes on the former Warden. Allowed himself the chance to actually look the guy over. Even knowing this was Loren's twin, he was taken aback by how similar they were. Not identical but... there were little things. Lines around the eyes, about the mouth, how certain words were formed. It threw him off, made him both more and less comfortable. It somehow felt like a trick...
Korbin pulled his gaze away and grimaced. He should have anticipated curiosity on the sentiment, but was no more thrilled to talk about the Flood for it. "Aside from how he put a dagger to my throat the first time we met? I could name several reasons why I don't like him. But the main one... I don't enjoy the idea of the Torchline' Arbiter having eyes and ears in Halo." Korbin's jaw tightened, and he turned more directly towards Neron. Head cocked, eyes narrowing in speculation.
"Were you aware of it? That Weaver traded information on Halo to Sunjata, in exchange for the goods she sold here? It was the reason why the man offered her the chance in the first place. He used her desire to leave the Tundra, gave her what she wanted, and then fucked off to Torchline to reap the rewards."
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
”I imagine it would. Still, I’ll tread the careful path of neutrality for now. Never know when someone is going to march me out into the Tundra at swordpoint.” Neron shot a thin smile in Korbin’s direction, taking another sip of his drink and raising an eyebrow at the boy, as if waiting for him to finish his appraisal. Whatever he saw, the Hailstorm couldn’t be sure whether it was good or bad, but either way, the conversation moved on.
And boy did it paint Sunjata in an interesting light. ”A charmer,” he murmured, listening carefully. And by the way his steel eyes narrowed as Korbin continued to speak, it became clear that he was not, indeed, aware of the arrangement between Weaver and Sunjata. ”Well isn’t that something... I had no idea. Perhaps something should be done about that.” Even sluggish, Neron’s mind still ticked over sharp as a tack, and it was starting to formulate a plan.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
A fair enough clause; who knew if anyone would wake to see the next dawn? Even the things that seemed permanent had a way of crumbling, and Korbin felt the impermanence keenly. "Good luck," he murmured, and turned his gaze away. Slightly embarrassed at being caught oogling... not that he tried to hide it, but.. being called out even with a glance was still awkward.
As the conversation moved on, Korbin found it quite satisfying that Neron hadn't been aware of what went on. It meant Weaver had outsmarted him - Korbin would never not be proud of his sister, even when she did shady things. He missed having a glass to fiddle with; his fingers tapped a soundless beat against the tabletop as he watched the other's expression change. If Neron had any opinions about what he heard, Korbin couldn't tell - he was thinking something but was the guy impressed, annoyed, merely curious...? This was a face he could not read. Unusual.
"Like what? Something besides cutting off the connection?" It was his first instict. To sever all ties, blind all eyes, remove every possibility of the Arbiter ever setting foot in this place ever again. It was a personal vendetta that had everything to do with blood on a keen knife's edge and a brawl on a beach, but Korbin watched Neron all the same, curious despite himself.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
”I shall need it.” Neron lifted his glass in a toast as Korbin wished him luck, the ex-Warden knocking the rest of the drink back, little that it would do to change his state of mind. Still thinking, he rolled the empty glass between long fingers, eventually fixing his gaze on Korbin again and offering a somewhat frosty smile that had nothing to do with the boy and everything to do with Sunjata.
”I would invite him here, of course. To check out the place. Then I would definitely have some questions for him, put it that way.” His eyes narrowed. Once upon a time perhaps he would have considered running a place like the Kraai, if for no other reason than it was totally different to anything else he had ever done. ”Perhaps you could ask some questions of your own.” Especially if they took the form of kicking the shit out of the man.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Dark eyebrows shot up in unveiled surprise at the cold violence implicit in Neron's little scenario. Korbin balked at the thought of coming up against Arbiter in so direct a confrontation, his shot confidence already bringing up all the ways in which he had proven inferior in past clashes. But... the more he thought about it, the more alluring it became. Having someone to take out all his frustrations on, whether he was guilty of causing them or not... Sunjata was definitely guilty of this little scheme, and it was all the excuse Korbin needed.
But as for the instigator... what was in it for Neron?
"A tempting proposal," he mumbled, idly watching the empty glass being moved between Neron's hands. His own fingers had grown very still, unmoving on the sticky table surface. "It almost sounds like you are taking this personally..?"
He didn't quite understand it. Had this guy been close to Weaver? Did the bar mean anything to him? Gods knew Korbin had never wanted to run it, and still wasn't thrilled about the idea of being cooped up behind the counter with people talking at him all day. He might keep it if only to make sure Sunjata wouldn't get it though... Spite could be a powerful motivator.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
”Oh, I am taking this personally,” Neron said, though his tone didn’t so much as flicker beyond the quiet politeness between them. ”Back when I visited the Hollowed Grounds, I first met Sunjata Senzaok. We made a deal - in exchange for helping me, he could set up a place here.” The ex-Warden sneered down at the empty glass in his hands. ”I did not know he intended to have information about Halo fed down to Torchline.”
Finally setting the glass down, he gazed across at Korbin. ”So you might say I feel somewhat responsible for ensuring that this particular wrong is made right. If you were to invite him up here, it would be my pleasure to lead that conversation.” Though it was doubtful that many words would be exchanged.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
It was the surface calm, the chill way he said it that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Korbin was starkly reminded of who he was talking to. This was the man who had taken and held the power in Halo for nigh on two years. Or was it three? With the aid of a goddess, sure, but... the Eirachi had only enabled it. Did Sunjata know what kind of enemy he had made? Loren was strong in terms of raw power, but... he had to wonder if Neron wasn't the more dangerous one between the twins.
Even so, he couldn't help but to relax ever so slightly, reluctantly enjoying this unexpected twist.
"I see. I will consider it then... if I end up keeping the bar." Korbin scratched his chin. "Does that mean you're staying in Halo? I seem to recall a few other wrongs you ought to fix..." Shifting slightly in his seat, he returned to watching Neron from the corners of his eyes, morbidly curious about how far he could push this man before that cold ire was turned on him. Not so long ago, Korbin had hated this man with intense passion... It would be interesting to see if he had been wrong to do so.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
”I think your sister would have wanted you to keep it in her absence. Not that I could claim to know her particularly well, but she did say she had decorated the place in her own tastes.” And if Neron had been able to get within a breath of a fire without going up in smoke himself, he would have appreciated the decor a lot more. Regrettably his tastes were more cold and minimalist these days.
Nodding curtly, Neron ran a long finger around the edge of the glass. ”Unless Warden Morgan has a mind to exile me, I would stay,” he confirmed. ”It is still the only home I have known in Caido, and it has been good to me.” The Eirachi not so much, but there you go. ”What wrongs would you have me fix?”
