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!
The Academy was easy to explore, finding her way around the place had been her first step to spending LongNight there. She almost missed the Hollowed Grounds, the cave that she'd have shut up tight, the two little children who would have been crying to go out-out-out.
How many times had she been tempted to let them go out into the darkest of night and day? Her lips pursed, as she trailed her fingers over one of the canvasses she had brought with her. How often had she told herself she needed the twins, to stay sane? Trapped in isolation, resenting two little souls.
Her fingernails dug into her hip, and she continued to study the blank canvas. And quietly, in the recesses of her mind, she made a promise to seek Ludo, an idea already piecing together, a request she was probably not worthy of asking; but she'd ask, nonetheless.
She reached for one of the various brushes that had been laid out on the floor beside her and studied the colors, hazel hues thoughtful. She thought of Torchline, the beauty of the sea, and reached for a variety of blues.
Painting chased her thoughts away, well, as much as she was able with that ever-lingering memory of the day her daughters' had died, always at the forefront of her mind. Never long gone. But... she had learned to live with it. Almost thankful that she could never forget their faces, their little voices.
Her guilt had been short-lived. As she painted the canvas one shade of blue, she moved to stand, stretching and moving around the room while the canvas dried. She was restless and bored, and... Delphine hated being cooped up. As much as she found the academy to be pretty roomy, she found it to be just as stifling.
And so, when the door to the room opened, Noah would find her pacing, rearranging her herbs and teas, tapping her fingers against the wall or any solid surface.
Noah finally made his way toward their room when he felt his duties had been fulfilled, for the time being. He would need some sleep, and he needed to find Delphine. There were a few things that he knew they needed to talk about, and even though fatigue cross his face and loosened his muscles, he tightened his resolve as he stood outside the door. He took a deep breath, and entered.
He found her just as he predicted, fussing around and rearranging their things. She was not really one to ever sit still and rest and wait, and when she did it was often terrible. "Delphine," He said as he stepped into their room and closed the door behind him. "Were you able to get the med station set up?" His eyes adjusted to the firelight of the room and he looked around, the half-painted canvas not lost on him. He crossed the room and planted a kiss on the top of her head, rubbing a hand down her back. He the moved to sit on the bed. It was harder and smaller than his bed -- their bed -- back home, but for a week he could endure it.
He had lots of questions to ask her, but he would wade carefully in these waters.
Delphine leaned into his touch, whining when he pulled away, settling on the bed. She followed, moving to sit next to him, the hard mattress was still better than the cave floor. "Mmm. In a dormitory that had a few extra beds. We managed to find a table and some chairs, as well. Painted a sign," so people would know where to go. Though she kept her herbs and teas in their room; lest anyone is tempted to take what she had.
Even seated next to him, she fidgeted. She didn't like LongNight, a week of staying inside, of no sunlight. She wasn't afraid of the dark, and while she held fear for creatures that lurked in the dark, she was mostly...
Afraid of being trapped.
Stuck in place.
It was settling in, that these people, this place, would be her prison for a week. "Would you like some tea? You've been working hard." She moved before he could answer because there was already a kettle above the fire because there was always tea.
She had to do something with her hands, keep herself busy, moving, focused.
He leaned back against the wall the bed rested against, letting the back of his head rest against the stone. It was cool to the touch, but not cold, due to the warmth of the fire within the room. "I'd love tea." He said, for the first time meaning it. He had never declined her offer, but in this moment he welcomed it. The warmth running down his throat and resting in his belly, the relaxing herbs against his senses, were all things he would relish as they spoke.
"Hey, tell me about that woman who was with you. I saw her in the house the morning I left to get this all ready. How do you know her?" He watched as she prepared the tea, kicking his boots off and bringing his legs up onto the bed. His voice was at its normal, neutral tone, no ice lingering nor fire.
Delphine glanced from the kettle and cups she was pouring, when he mentioned Tala. "Oh! Tala. She's an Outlander, who arrived right before the portal was buried, I think?" She moved to replace the kettle, claiming both cups and moving to the bed again. He'd leaned back, taken his boots off, and brought his legs up onto the bed while she was sprinkling a series of herbs through the teas.
"Comfy? It seemed wrong to leave her unprepared, she's from a cold climate, but I don't think it was as cold as Halo... and of course, I don't think it had LongNight." She explained, easily, moving to settle at the foot of the bed, after all, she had a painting to finish, once it dried.
"Are... you mad, because I let her stay in the house?" She inquired, hesitant to voice the naggling concern, but she knew she'd never be able to drop it unless she asked.
He took the tea thankfully, cupping the warm mug in both of his large, calloused hands. He blew on the liquid for a moment before taking a small sip. His mouth was so accustomed to the heat that he barely registered it, the threshold and tolerance too high from having drank warm drinks his entire life. Sometimes they even drank their water warm, just to keep everything inside warm and happy. When she asked if he was comfortable, he merely mumbled and took another sip of his tea.
"I don't disagree." He noted, "It would have been nice to be introduced to her. But that's mostly my fault, I've been so busy in and out these days." Preparing for Longnight for himself and for the entirety of Halo was something new to him. His cabinet position put so much responsibility on him for the well-being of the community and the people, and it was a juggling act. He felt no resentment for it, but he was just still learning how to balance it all. "How long does she plan to stay with us?" The undertone was that she couldn't stay for long, of course, because Ezekiel would return home soon and need his own bedroom once again--at least, that is what Noah hoped.
"Now..." He took another drink of the tea, this time bigger, before looking her dead in the eyes. "Tell me about your history with Korbin. All of it." He knew of the most recent interaction from only the point of view of the raven, and he was very interested to hear of the tale from the woman.
Delphine puffed her cheeks out, shrugging. "Not long, I don't think. Maybe the season."
His order made her blink, though she didn't seem afraid, or even curious, instead, she began to talk. "Uhm... Korbin, he's a raven." It was almost childish, the way she declared it. "I met him at a tavern... I was just exploring, but I was getting cold, and... he was being rude. He wouldn't let me by! So I sat down with him and we started to talk, uhm," she had to think back, as she had not thought of the man since the last time she had seen him.
"He was smelly, and really drunk, and sad. So I asked him if he would like to borrow my knife, but he said no... so I followed him to his room and cleaned his room because it was also smelly and sad." She shrugged, "Then I tried to give him a pastry, and see if he wanted to come by the house to warm up and clean up, 'cause rumors were that he'd lost his place at the tavern, and..." Her brows furrowed.
She'd not shown Noah the bruises; he'd been too busy to do much more than coming home and sleep these last few days. Slowly she rolled her sleeve up, to show Noah the darkening bruises, clearly a hand. "...so I asked if... he liked when I flinched when I was afraid of him. He answered... really, really fast." Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat quietly.
"I... asked him if he was afraid of becoming abusive if that was why he refused help and... uhm, he thought he was already a lost cause." She'd been studying her hand, specifically the bruising on her wrist. Healing slowly.
She never saw reason to heal things that could heal themselves, without risk of infection. She doesn't address the fact she'd flinched, and had been afraid. She doesn't address the fact he had told her to leave. All of that is implied.
He listened to her without interruption. Concern laced over his stoic face, drawing his eyebrows together. He didn't like what he was hearing, but he was confident this way that Delphine reacted to things and made decisions in her life was a product of all of the abuse she had faced in her life. "Delphine...that is not...an appropriate response. Causing more pain, to yourself or to others, is not okay." Noah was never an eloquent man, and now he struggled with trying to convey his point of view. "It's why I always stop you from hurting yourself. It might mask the true pain for a moment...but it doesn't solve anything. It doesn't help. It's not...healthy."
He took her arm in his hands, having set the mug down on the floor beside the bed, and turned it over to inspect the bruising. A flash of anger, a flare of rage, burst in his breast, but he shoved it down. Noah knew Korbin, and thought that for him to react violently towards someone was him being pushed over the edge. He was unaware of the violence Korbin had reacted with against other members of Halo -- Chulane, Loren -- but was shocked at the bruises on her wrist. "I'm sorry he hurt you." His jaw muscles clenched and loosened, the discomfort easy to spot. If it had been anyone, anyone, else, Noah might have stormed off from here and beaten the perpetrator to a pulp...but he knew Korbin would never do such a thing unprovoked. It didn't make it right, but it changed Noah's response to it.
Delphine furrowed her brows, "But I always heal myself after. And I offered to heal him after too." Well, she hadn't explicitly told the man she was a healer. She was quiet when he addressed the fact it didn't solve the problem, biting her lip. After a moment she responded, "It's... It does help. Each scar is a reminder of why I felt the way I did. Like..." She gestured to the longest vertical scar, from the base of her palm to her elbow, it was also the most noticeable, as it had been deep. "...when I first came here, and I was lost." No other scar matched the depth that that one had. They were all fainter, lighter.
"I'm okay." She murmured, as he inspected the bruising, his jaw clenching over and over. She reached out, with her free hand, to massage his jaw, pressing into a pressure point gently, "Stop that. That's not good for you." She smiled to the man, bright and easy, "I forgave him already. He thinks he is... a monster, but I've seen monsters. He's not there yet."
Noah had not wanted to argue.He simply wanted to know information, to be able to made decisions about how to confront it later. But here it was, the confrontation of it in his lap. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that pain and suffering did not heal pain and suffering. It might mask it, it might distract from it, but it did not heal it. His jaw clenched again despite her massaging of it. "Why is that the way you choose to remember?" He asked. Noah remembered all of his history--where he had been, what he had been through, the shit he waded through and the grief he felt, all without scar leading the way back to the memories. While Noah did, in fact, host many scars along his body, none of them had been given by choice.
"At least you've forgiven him." Noah wasn't sure if there was anything to forgive the raven of in his own heart, but he would surely be having a conversation with him about the nature of the relationship between himself and Delphine. Korbin deserved that, as his friend. "You're right. He is not a monster." He knew the woman had harbored monsters in her own home, had been a prisoner to them. Korbin was nothing like the men that Delphine had described to him. "He is grieving. But I think he is willing to move towards healing. I've seen the progress." Korbin had taken some steps forward--the raven in the aviary a few weeks ago was not the raven who was currently tending to the fires. While Noah knew the pain would not go away so quickly, it was still good to see him moving forward.
"How else should I remember? For the longest time I... did not write, or paint. I've not played the harp, or piano in years. All of my ways to remember, they're things I don't do anymore." Because everything she loved was a reminder; though he'd seen how happy getting into painting had made her.
"The drugs... dulled it, the memories, and fears, the self-hatred, but I don't think it'll ever go away." She flashed the man a sad smile, "I lost a lot of myself, and I never knew a lot of myself. I'm not whole Noah. The scars remind me." She wasn't sure if he'd understand; if anyone who had not been picked apart piece-by-piece to be rebuilt, turned into someone's ideal, would understand.
She smiled quietly, sipping her tea as she listened. So the raven was making progress in his own way. Good. "Do you want to sleep? I can put my paints up, and get ready for bed." She was a quiet painter, but she had grown very used to sleeping when Noah did.
Less chances to consider adding a new scar. Rountine helped.
When she asked him how else she could remember, he merely just looked at her. He wanted to give her the snarkiest, most sarcastic answer, but he bit his own tongue. It was not in his character, and he recognized that, it was just a symptom of his disapproval. "But you can do those things now. You can start...doing healthy things." He wanted her to be able to do the things she loved. He did -- he hunted and provided for the people. He wanted her to be whole, he wanted her to be well. If he could help her get there, he would. "I don't want you to have to rely on drugs and pain and more suffering."
He reached out to put a hand on her thigh. "I want you to find yourself, whole and happy and healthy, Delphine." He rubbed his hand in a reassuring circle, while his other hand stretched down to grab his tea again. "No, I'm okay. I'll stay up for a bit still." He took a large drink. "Del...I just need to know that you're not going to offer my friend a knife again."
Delphine bit her lip, chewed the inside of her cheek. He was... saying all the things she wanted to hear, but at the same time she had come to believe she deserved none of that. Quietly, she murmured, "Do... you know where to get a harp?"
She was quiet, mulling over her thoughts. Why now, after so many years of doing everything wrong did she find the type of man she'd always dreamed of being with? She furrowed her brow, nodding slowly. "Promise." She sat her tea down and carefully moved to crawl beside of Noah, grumbling about the bed, before she settled.
And as she settled next to him, she flashed him a soft smile. "Thank you for getting me clean... I mostly mean it." She mumbled the last bit, because she did resent the man, getting her clean before LongNight.
Noah thought for a moment when she asked about a harp. He lifted his arm to scoop it around her, to pull her close in against his side. He took another long drink of his tea, rubbing an arm idly up and down her arm. "Hmmmm...I think I do. The Westfalls are good crafters, and Glas mentioned before that he had made a flute. I bet he could figure out how to make a harp." To be honest, Noah couldn't make a picture in his brain of what exactly a harp was. He was not well versed in music, and he only knew that it had strings. He squeezed her closer against him when she promised, and he kissed the top of her head. "How can I help you get to a healthier spot?" He was happy, for her and for himself, that she was clean. He hoped that she would stay that way. His own bout of alcoholism--one, long, drunken night of grief--was enough to keep him away from it for a while.
