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?
Flickering firelight spilled from the hearth and set the shadows dancing in the corners. Inky devils smiling wickedly, teeth gnashing, claws scraping, whispering bitter truths to whoever was foolish enough to listen. Korbin thought he saw them flit across the room, along seams of ceiling and wall, down by the floor, back and forth just out of focus. Maybe they were figments of his imagination. Maybe he was just seeing things that weren't real.
He sat on the floor, with his back against the mantlepiece framing the hearth. Someone had set up a medical station in the room, but no one was there except him. Korbin was fine with that. He was buzzed. Just a little bit, enough to set his blood to singing, to make the room spin and sway if he didn't focus properly. The sound and movement of people out by his 'bar' made his head pound, but in here it was cool. Dark. The fire burning low amidst gray ashes. Eventually he would have to add more fuel, so that it didn't burn out, but not yet. It was a good excuse to be here, and he had reached a point where keeping on his feet, moving, working, just wasn't feasible anymore.
Exhausted. So tired. Blinking made his eyes sting and burn, as painful to keep them open as to have them closed. Pus and goo crusted at the corners and made the dark lashes stick together, but his fingers were so stained with soot that he didn't want to set them to his face. Not because the dirt bothered him - he didn't care about rumpled clothes, uncut hair or offensive odors - but because the ashes would make everything worse.
Weaver was moving in the shadows too. Sitting across from him, just a little bit off to the left. A dark shape that might be only a pattern in the wall, but also might be her ghost, staring fixedly at him from the dark. At times he could almost see her breathe. Adjust the braid back over her shoulder to hide the scar, blink. Every once in a while her mouth would twist, a brow rising as she gave him that look. The 'what the hell are you doing, silly?' expression that always made him feel like a child.
His eyes burned from staring back at the image, and as he blinked, a tear slipped down the cheek. Korbin would give anything to have an answer for her. But the shadows was dancing in his head too, and there was no light to stave it off in there.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine closed the door of the room they were staying in quietly, bringing a small basket full of uncut, unground herbs with her. In the basket rested a variety of tools to allow her to work with the herbs. Their dorm room was right next door to the medical station, so she slipped in without a thought.
She moved to the first table and began to separate out the herbs, delicate hands running across each plant, some dried, others were fairly fresh. As she was laying out her tools, she happened to actually look around the room--
--Someone was leaned against the hearth, aglow with firelight.
"Hello? Are you all ri... Korbin? Do you need anything?" She had left her workstation behind to walk towards the shape, and was a mere foot away by the time she realized who she was walking towards.
Even as she asked if he needed something, she had to stop herself from asking if he was okay; she could tell he didn't look okay--probably was not okay. Might never be okay again. "Let's get the fire roused," she murmured, reaching for the fire poker and casting a look around for the wood, before adding a small piece to it.
Wiping her hands off down the front of her nightshirt, she studied the young man. "I'm going to be preparing herbs, over here, if you'd like to help." She offered, quietly. Noah had told her that her ways weren't right, so she wasn't too sure what to do. But in the past offering, the man treatment hadn't really helped him either.
She was here to chase the restlessness away, without alerting Noah to the fact she was restless. She had her demons and he had him, she knew they both slept better together; which was another reason she'd not gone far. But there was only so much sleeping she could do when all she could think about was that she was stuck.
Caged.
So the restless woman wandered away from Korbin and to her table, to finish sorting the herbs by type, and then by uses. The table had already been lined with pouches to store the herbs in once she'd worked them into a useable form.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
That was all everyone ever asked of him. Was he alright? Did he need anything? What could they do for him, would he like a warm meal, a hot bath, a soft bed, to be pampered and cared for and tamed back into the nice sweet dog he should be? He never needed any of that. Well... maybe he did, but he never got it when he needed it, and so by now he no longer had any use for it.
Korbin didn't move when she approached - he still didn't have a name for the woman, and didn't care enough to ask - but he tensed even so, prepared to move away should she try to touch him. He did not reply to the question, or to the offer to help, nor did he do anything to hinder or help when she added wood to the fire. Not enough; a single log would make no difference, would merely burn out without warming the air in the room noticeably. Amateur.
In the corner, Weaver had disappeared. Not her actual ghost then; his sister would have been all over this girl, to figure out what made her tick. She would be chopping herbs by now, talking and laughing, weedling all the secrets out of the blonde while sharing choice anecdotes until they could be mistaken for best friends. Efficient. Cunning. Using everything that was available to acquire whatever she wished. Saving the rest for a rainy day.
Could he be like that? Did he want to be like that? If he emulated Weaver, would that keep her alive? If he became like her, would others remember her more? Look at him and say, 'ah, yes. Just like his sister'.
Maybe. Maybe he could. But not tonight. Not yet. First he would have to pull himself together. Figure out who he was. Why he was. How to start feeling again. He didn't want to, but what choice did he have?
"You said you could show me. How to feel better, differently." It was a husky whisper, rough and gravelly. Barely audible. Not quite believing that he was saying anything at all.
Was he going crazy too, just like the girl?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine frowned, turning to study the man, as he spoke. It was soft enough, that she almost missed it among the crackling of the fire; she really should have added more wood, but she was afraid that too much at once would suffocate the flames. "I... I made a promise to Noah, but there are other ways. Other things you can do, to feel." Delphine was bound by her promise; by orders.
"I'm... really rusty, for a healer. But I could probably take the edge off of the depression, if you wanted." She went back to chopping herbs, her back to the man. "Or some herbs can help with depression, or even heighten your emotions, even your moods. But those are trickier." Her voice was level, as she carefully worked.
"When... my children died," When I killed them, was what she wanted to say, wanted to admit too, "Ludo told me that I had to learn to love my memories, and... it's hard, but it got easier once I stopped running from it; from the fact they're dead." Mostly.
She cleared her throat softly. "Noah helped me get clean--drugs, alcohol, and... I guess most recently cutting myself. And it's... harder, but also easier." The soft sound of the knife repeatedly running through herbs, as she upped her speed to finish the batch could be heard in her silence.
"It also helps to stay busy," she explained, "I'm... saddest when I'm doing nothing. And it's harder to resist falling back into my old habits when I'm idle."
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
"Loren did that to me, once." Again, he was talking before he had decided if he even wanted to. The words came pouring, and he hated them for it. Hated himself. Hated her, for showing up. For always appearing even though he had not invited her. "I had just set fire to my house. To myself. But he put out the fire and dragged me out, and then he healed me. Without asking. Healed everything, my head too.
"And even though my sister was dead and my house was gone and even though I wasn't fine, he made me feel as if everything was okay. As if nothing was wrong. A little sad and lonely, but... like losing everything was nothing."
His lips curled into a snarl, feral and disgusted. Unsure if he hated Loren for doing that to him, or himself for being so easily affected. Obviously the feeling had not lasted, and the effect did not linger, because grief and loss could not be cured. But he had to wonder if it had messed him up. If things would be different if he had allowed it to continue. Would he have become addicted to the magic? A different kind of fix? Guess it wasn't too late for that.
"I've no problem with the memories. They're all I want. Got a fix for not caring about anything except what's in the past?"
Korbin knew he sounded bitter, but there was no help for that. It was the truth. Plain and simple, brutal. Honesty could be a weapon too.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine pursed her lips, as he described what Loren had done to him. "I'm sorry, that he did that. He... he should have asked, and should not have gone so far." She turned to study the man, hazel hues drifting across the room. "Healing... it's like, an addiction in its own right. You could chase away all of your emotions, make everything okay when it's not, but... I think Noah would tell me that is not healthy either."
She settled the knife, dulled as it need not be sharp to slice through herbs, on the table and brought herself to sit atop the table top, biting her lip. "It's dangerous, because... well, I think maybe, it might create a monster. If you can get your fix of... 'everything's fine', anytime you do something bad, then..." She shrugged slowly. There was a reason Delphine didn't bother with healing her own mental health. She'd been married to a man who only cared for himself, and what was his, nothing else. And she had, of course, aided in that.
"I think... maybe, you should find a purpose in the present. Maybe, uhm. Well... for me, Noah's convinced me to take up playing the harp, and painting and... obviously, being a healer. I think it'll help, to do the things that I loved doing." Her tone is quiet, unsure, because she is really uncertain. The man is so set on helping her; seeing her find herself, and she's not sure that's possible.
"Do you... like owning the Kraai? Is that your dream or is it an obligation?" She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Because you should... follow your dreams, do what you love. At least, that's what Noah seemed to be telling me, when he said he wanted to see me healthy."
Noah held all the cards, and she knew it. She also knew he was probably right--some part of her wanted to believe that, anyway.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
He grew quiet. This sounded like a far cry from the girl who had offered him a knife at the old tavern. Must be Noah's influence. Korbin didn't know what kind of relationship the two had, but it seemed intimate, familiar. He both envied it and did not. Knew he was in no condition to be involved with anyone; he could only take, not give. Had nothing to offer anyone, not even himself.
In theory, her solution (or Noah's, really) sounded good. Just do what he liked, and everything would be better. But part of him still resented the very idea of being happy when Weaver was dead, no matter how many times Chulane called bullshit on that line of thinking. Maybe it was, probably the guy was right, everyone was fucking right except for him, and yet he was the one who was feeling it. Guess that made him bullshit too.
"I don't like anything anymore. Everything just makes me nauseous, and angry, and tired. And I'm so sick of digging through my own head for reasons to keep going when they only mean something for an instant before it's all gone again."
He only kept the bar so someone else couldn't have it. He stayed alive so that someone else would not be forgotten. In the moment, when he was working and moving and wrapped up in a task, any task, he could almost fool himself into thinking that everything was normal, that he was fine, that Weaver wasn't gone.
But he couldn't keep moving forever. And in moments like this when he couldn't even rest properly... it all came back.
"I just want to sleep," he murmured, close to breaking again. Struggling to breathe, Korbin pulled his knees up, curling in on himself. It didn't help; nothing helped.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine nodded slowly. "I... understand that. It's really hard, because life is really unpredictable." She mused, quietly. Her gaze focused on him, as he shifted, hugging his knees to himself, she was pretty sure he was having trouble breathing, if the way his breath sounded was anything to go by.
Slowly, she left the table and moved to settle next to him, bringing a damp cloth she'd been . "I can give you something, to help you sleep. Or I can heal some of it... but I think," she offered the damp cloth, "...perhaps before we try anything, you should wipe your eyes." She held the cloth, not too close to him, nor too far for him to reach to take it.
She was... trying to be less chaotic, because she did understand, a bit. Though she chose to fake it, create a new life for herself and work through it that way. Korbin... he preferred to shut down; to let himself fall away from the world. Whereas she'd throw herself into the world without regards to her safety, or the safety of those around her, at times.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Unpredictable. Yeah. That was an understatement. Try vicious, violent, painful and disruptive. Unreliable. As soon as you thought you understand how something worked, it changed. You were born and it was all just a descent into madness from there on, with occasional glimpses of horrible clarity.
Sometimes Korbin felt that this, the state he was in now, the darkness and pain and despair, this was the true awakening. Reality at its most profound.
He looked up when she approached, wary and watchful. For a while he just stared hard at the cloth, at the distance she held, and he felt shame and irritation rear up inside when he realized that she was afraid. Cautious, in case he would lash out again. Gods, what kind of monster had he become? Korbin made himself take the rag, slowly, every motion carefully restrained. Because there was an impulse to just jerk it away from her, but wouldn't that just feed into the darkness?
The cloth was cool against his eyes. The sting lessened somewhat as he passed it over them, again and again, until he just let it rest over the face and tilted his head back to keep it in place. Blinded, unable to see, removed from the necessity to look anywhere. The ghost of Weaver appeared on the inside of his eyelids, and she was smirking at him.
"No healing," he said hoarsely. Magic couldn't - shouldn't - be allowed to fix this.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine nodded, slowly, they he couldn't see it. "No magic. But maybe a tea? I've got some that aid with sleep." As wary and watchful he was of her, she was of him. He'd grabbed her once, shown her what he could do.
As was her usual manner, Delphine moved to stand, pushing herself to her feet. Barefooted, she padded slowly back towards the table, rummaging gently through the herbs. She had premade teas in the room, but she had all the ingredients for a sleeping draught here.
"Do you have a bed, or a space picked out?" She inquired, softly, as she crushed the herbs into a pouch. If he chose to take it, she'd not feel safe leaving him alone--"Or would one of the cots in here be okay?" She asked.
If he slept in here, she was right next door--rather, Noah was right next door. "Sleep deprivation... can be just as bad as any drug or drink, you know. You start seeing things, hearing things. Are you having... are you hallucinating, Korbin?" The question was loaded; and would decide whether she stayed in the same room as him.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
There had been a point where Korbin would have rejected the tea too. He disliked the effects of herbs on the mind, disliked how easy it was to get the dosage wrong, to do more harm than good. But sleeplessness was wearing him down, to the point where he was almost, tentatively, maybe asking for help. Or was that exactly what he had done?
Would that it had been from anyone but this girl though. Even Loren would be preferable, angry as he was over the interference.
"How do I tell if it's a hallucination?" he bit back, mouth twisting into a wry smile void of all humor. "I see my sister whether my eyes are open or closed, in every person I meet, in every passing stranger... but some would say that's normal." A part of grief.
"What's in the tea? Is it Loren's blend?" If she had gotten it from the stock they had brought out of the Palace, he knew the components. Magnolia bark, lavender, valerian and chamomile; a powerful soporific that would calm anxieties, induce drowsiness and keep the sleeping person under for quite a while.
"I usually sleep in the rafters. Less people around up there." Saved him the need for blankets too, as he didn't have any.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine offered a soft smile, as he explained. "I... think the only way, really, is to sleep and see how you feel after sleeping." Even then, that may not cure hallucinations. Especially not ones caused by grief, by the mind trying to fix what was missing.
When he asked where it was from, she studied the herbs. "Well... I'm not certain where it's from, and Loren doesn't like me. But it's magnolia bark, lavender, valerian, chamomile. It was brought in from the palace, I think?" She explained.
Claiming the kettle from the table, she poured the herbs into it, and moved back towards the fire. "It should help you sleep for a while, though. But... I'm not quite sure you can sleep in the rafters, if you take this." She chuckled at the thought, adding, "I might end up healing broken bones, if you do that."
She's next to him again, adding more wood to the fire, before she sets the kettle overtop of the grate, so that the tea can warm. She's brought a cup, and as she reclaimed her position on the other side of the hearth, she sat the cup between the two of them.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Did he look like he was in any condition to fly at her throat right now? Pulling the rag from his eyes when he heard the cup being put down on the floor, Korbin shot her a look that suggested he was very aware of what she was doing. It would have been amusing if she didn't have fair reason to be wary; instead it only made the young man hate himself even more. So much for never resorting to violence. So much for hating to fight, to hunt, to kill. He had done all of that, and hurt people in more ways than physically. What was she doing, trying to fix this kind of mess? Already she had been hurt, and Korbin couldn't swear it would never happen again.
"It's from the infirmary," he told her, closing the eyes as he waited for the herbs to steep. "We dug it out after the attack... some of it. Most is gone. Too much." The books, the tools, seeds and plants and dried stock, all the things he had begun to learn how to use. Gone. Scattered amidst the rubble, buried in snow that would never melt. Lost. Like so many other things.
For a long time, there was silence. Korbin got lost in thought, drifting back and forth between fragile, volatile emotions in a nightmarish roller coaster. "I'm not good at it," he said eventually. "Accepting help. Or asking for it. Admitting when I need it. Lately, everything is just... a mess. I'm... sorry. For hurting you, back then."
Admittedly, she really should learn to take 'no' for an answer, but that did not give him leave to use violence against anyone. He could have flied off earlier. Should have, rather than allowed things to escalate like that.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Delphine nodded, murmuring, "It's not gone forever, it can be rebuilt." Knowledge only died if the last person that knew said knowledge died. She was certain of that. She shifted, facing him, listening. She really was a good listener, when she wasn't in a downward spiral of her own.
It was only a matter of time before she spiraled, right? Noah couldn't fix her forever--he'd surely not stay to keep her together.
"I've seen monsters, you know. Lived with monsters. You're... not there, nowhere near being like that." She spoke honestly, reaching for the kettle, to pour his tea. She'd moved closer to him. After all, he was apologizing. And Noah was a shout away.
"I forgive you. I... should have listened to you, you'd told me 'no'. We're both at fault. I can see that, now." It was tangible, to grasp what had gone wrong. It made her even more certain the man in front of her was anything but evil.
He was definitely no Bellamy Rowan.
"I'm not... good at getting help, either, you know. My head's... mmm, there's a lot that's wrong. Too much to really fix. But... I used to take solace in the fact I could help others," She held the tea out to him. "...I think it kept me sane, when I was caged. Thank you for letting me help you."
He could have said no, sent her away, though he was in her space. She probably would have gone.
