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!
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
It's been a tumultuous time in Halo. Maybe that's what drove Hester to walk outside, despite the subzero winds and the flurry of blowing snows. There was only so long she could spend in the same house as her mother before one or both of them started poking, and they hassled each other into sullen silence.
Easier to dip out early, grab a drink, talk to a few friendly faces, and return later in the evening, when things were settled again, and her father was home to smooth the edges. For now though, she walked, trying to decide on a destination before she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes.
One of her nephews had just joined the guard, hadn't he? One of the stupid brats that was somehow older than her. Maybe she could pay him a visit, and use it as an excuse to revisit her favourite teenage crush. Not that it was likely she'd catch a glimpse of the captain on her way over, the woman more than busy with all her new responsibilities, but... Maybe.
Hester let herself dream as she wandered towards the training grounds, eyes open for any familiar face.
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
With all the Warden responsibilities she had had to take on, Morgan felt almost ridiculous going to the training grounds to practice the relatively simple art of combat, swinging the hammer into her ice-beams as if she needed any more learning on how to hit a target. Really, this was a very violent form of therapy: a way to channel out the intense pressure she felt now that she was in such a position of importance.
They shattered pleasingly, a noise not unlike crashing glass; Morgan had grown skilled at controlling the explosion so no shards of sharp ice shot off into the distance. She would have to return to the darkness of her room soon, sit and work on papers and plans soon enough; for the moment she tried to take some pleasure in the simple act of hitting and stepping back, hitting and stepping back..
With a gasp, she held out a hand to stop a shard of ice flying right into the face of the sudden figure on the edge of the training grounds, just grabbing it mid-air with her magic before it landed. "Careful!" Morgan shouted out, melting the shard to nothing and letting the liquid fall to the floor.
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
Maybe her nephew was there, maybe he wasn't. Hester never got the chance to actually look for him, immediately distracted by the sound of smashing ice, and, more importantly, the source of the smashing ice. She pauses, content to sit and watch from a distance, though the universe has other plans. the distance she has from the smashing ice starts to very quickly close, catching Hester off guard enough that there's no chance of getting out of the way.
The ice never gets a chance to hit her though, stopping just short and melting away into nothing. And there, on the other side of it, her saviour. "I'm so sorry!" Hester shouted, moving around the edge of the training field so she didn't have to shout quite as much. "It happened so fast, I'm usually so much better at not... being in the way, I guess."
A laugh bubbles out of her, a little nervous, as Hester falls into an almost expectant silence, looking up at the other woman with a sparkle in her eyes. She was so cool.
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
Once Morgan had managed to melt the ice and make sure no one was in immediate deathly danger, she got a chance to actually look at who it was she'd almost impaled: a young woman, one she recognised from the streets and crowds she'd looked over throughout the years. There were a lot of Halo's citizens like that; people she recognised but could not name, faces she fought for but did not know.
The laugh and rather adoring way she was stared at were...slightly alarming, but Morgan did her level best to ignore them. "Are you alright?" She asked, walking to the edge of the training grounds towards Hestor. "Have you come to tell me something?" Mentally, she begged the spirits to not deliver her another disaster, not this soon.
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
Hester did her best to seem unaffected, to grab some of the air of coolness Morgan had and wield it for herself. It didn’t really feel like she was successful, but at least she didn’t giggle again when she responded, a touch too quick. ”I’m fine! It was my fault, really, I should be more careful. I mean, I know it’s a training ground, right?” Babbling was... slightly worse than giggling, but much harder to control, for whatever reason.
A flush managed to creep over her cheeks as she processes the next question, Hester shaking her head almost immediately. ”No, I didn’t mean to bother you at all!” Her hands come up and wave, as if she can simply shoo away the misunderstanding. ”My nephew joined the Guards recently, I was going to look for him, and... I guess I just got distracted watching you.” Thiugh she’s done a pretty good job at containing herself, there’s a hint of pure admiration in Hesters last words, a brightness that seems almost out of place.
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
Morgan nodded slowly at the question, the etchings of a smile tugging at the sides of her lips. Talking to this girl, so young and awkward and full of energy...it was a refreshing change from the discussions and dealings she'd had in the last few weeks. "In fairness, the palace has blocked some of it off." She admitted, looking about at the still-melting chunks of ice that sometimes went up higher than her eye level all around them.
The next words were relieving and bemusing at the same time: while she was pleased to hear that there was nothing wrong (well, not beyond the usual), Hester clearly had...some kind of admiration for her, something she had no idea what to do with. "Your nephew? You do not look old enough to have one." She commented, putting her hammer down and leaning on it, easily resting her elbow and watching Hester.
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
Really, Hester is not sure you could call the shattered icy remains around them a 'palace' still, but she's not going to play a game of semantics with her hero. "I should still be paying attention. What if it had been anyone other than you?" Again, there's that note of adoration, of excitement, Hester all but swooning, an image in her head of a fairy tale damsel in distress.
"Would you believe he has the gall to be older than me?" It's a tried and true joke, and it leaves her automatically, an exaggerated huff accompanying the words. The smiles returns to her face easily though, her fingers tangling together in nervous knots in front of her. "My brother in law, uh, his father, was one of your men before..." Hester pauses, blinking as her words suddenly caught up with her.
Why would she bring that up? Remind the other woman of the attack? Was she an idiot? There is a moment of clear struggle, before she picks up an entirely new thread, trying to move away from her other, disastrous attempt. "It must be exciting, to be the Warden now. Congratulations, by the way."
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
"If it had been anyone else, there probably would not have been flying ice." Morgan pointed out plainly, idling looking around and melting away the last of the ice pillars she had made, gathering up the water into one ball and evaporating it away into nothing, letting the last droplets run away into spaces where it wouldn't bother anyone.
She smiled at Hester's joke; Morgan had never had a lot of family, her father's all being dead before her birth and her mother's distant after the affair. The smile faded though as Hester moved on and it became clear that the girl before her had some personal ties to the incident of the week prior. Taking a breath and looking down to the ground, Morgan frowned. "I'm sorry."
There was a predictable moment of silence. Afterwards Hester thankfully moved the topic on; Morgan walked closer to her, happy to continue the conversation if it didn't have to revolve around the loss of her guards. "I don't know if I would say exciting. It is an honour, but an intimidating one. A lot of responsibility. Would you want to be Warden?"
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
The fact that there wouldn't be flying ice around if it were anyone other than Morgan training is a point Hester has to concede to the other woman, no sassy comeback or or technicality leaving the younger woman. Her joke seems to go over well though, drawing a smile from the usually serious Captain. It's a single, shining moment, Hester's own smile growing even wider, which makes it all the more uncomfortable when the topic stumbles into tragedy.
At least she manages to bridge to something else, however sloppy the execution of the shift is. Morgan seems to take to it easily though, and Hester is happy to talk for as long as the woman is willing to look at her.
"I absolutely do not want to be Warden." Hester answers almost immediately, shaking her head for effect. Taking care of all the people of Snowcloak, overseeing it all. It sounded exhausting, and she knew what she was about. She wanted to travel, to play her music, and to have an easier life than her parents, her siblings. "I'm not really the type for it."
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
Morgan laughed again at Hester's insistence that she would not want to be Warden: at the girls age, she probably would have said the same thing. It was only in the last ten years that she had truly become comfortable with the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, had worked out how to balance it.
"Then what do you want to do?" She asked, tilting her head and studying the girl. She didn't look like a particularly athletic sort and while she wasn't ugly, didn't seem to be fancily dressed or put together either. "I have to admit, I haven't spoken to the young people in our Citadel for quite a while. What is your name?"
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
"I want to play music for people." The admission bursts out of her before she can stop it, excited and proud and so, so aware of how childish a dream it sounds to just blurt out like this. But, she can't stop it, falls back into that nervous babbling, over explaining something that doesn't even need an explanation. "I've been playing almost all my life now, but I want to travel, maybe learn some new skills from people outside of Halo. And then come back and share songs with people here." A flush tries to slip across her cheeks, her gaze shifting off to some nothing point in the distance.
It makes sense that Morgan hasn't taken the time to speak to people she doesn't need to. She's a busy woman, after all. "I'm Hester. The youngest of the Mac Girr An Adhastair brood." There was no doubt that the Guard Captain would know of at least one of them. They might not be a particularly rowdy family outside of their own walls, but there were enough of them, and enough of a gap between Hester and her siblings, for some talk to fly around.
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
"..Ah." Morgan had never been skilled in those kinds of arts: music, painting, dance; the complexities of them seemed foreign to her, distant in a way the pommel of a sword had never been. Still, she admired those that could wrangle tunes out of thin air and make them into songs, almost as if it were an arcane art. "Would you say you were good, at your music? It may be a very necessary skill in the coming months, here. Our people will need a way to have their spirits lifted."
As for the 'brood', she was indeed familiar. A couple of the siblings had been regular minor offenders in their teenage years; the name was one of the ones she came across frequently in records and notes. "Hester." She repeated, making sure she had gotten it right, then looked around the grounds they stood on. "Are you not cold, out here? Would you like to come into the barracks? ...What is left of it, anyway."
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
06-21-2020, 08:48 PM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2020, 10:24 PM by Hester.)
My head shakes when I sleep too long, And my mom cries when I sing this song
The 'Ah' is a familiar response, better than 'Oh.', one she'd heard just as often. It was the difference of interest and dismissal, and made her heart soar to hear the woman respond with it. "The only complaints I get anymore are about the volume." She jokes, sobering up at the rest of the words offered by Morgan. God, the woman had a way of making everything feel important, noble, of rallying spirits to her side.
Or maybe that was just the latent crush talking.
Regardless, Hester beamed. "That's why I started playing music in the first place." To lift peoples spirits, to bring smiles to their faces. To rally them to their home, even when it was hard. She would let them down.
Hester was freezing. But she'd been working to not have it show, her toes wiggling in her boots and fingers clenching and unclenching within her gloves just to keep the blood flowing through them. She wanted to look tough, comparable to the implacable comfort of the Warden. Though, she didn't have the bonus of a cold resistant cloak, didn't know it was something she was missing. The offer gave her an out, a grateful smile breaking over her face. "That would be nice." She agrees, stepping to follow after Morgan without hesitation. It meant they were going to keep talking, at least that's what it meant if she was lucky.
And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden
Morgan laughed quietly and shrugged, knowing that she herself was someone that had often grumble about the volume of the local bards on a night: she valued her sleep very much and had little tolerance for those who would disturb it. Still, she didn't want to crush the enthusiasm of the young musician and supposed that might be a part of herself that was getting curmudgeonly and old.
How depressing.
"Then you understand your role as an artist." She nodded. Good to have youth in Halo that seemed to have their heads screwed on right, even if Hestor was just giving her lip service: at least she knew to respect the Warden.
Turning to open the door to the barracks for Hester, Morgan wondered why it was people felt the needed to pretend to not be bothered by the cold around her. She had thought her magical cloak was common knowledge, but it seemed not; for the moment she kept her mouth shut, thinking it may one day be advantageous to have the secret. "Would you like a warm drink? I think we still have some cups in here...buried under something."
And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us
