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!
Another day that wasn't really a day, shifting seamlessly into a night that wasn't really a night - or was, in that the sun was down. But then, the sun had been down for what felt like an age now. He could barely tell whether it was meant to be day or night right now, because along with the sun went his normal sleeping patterns apparently.
Insomnia plagued him, and there were only so many notes he could write, or books he could read, or halls he could wander. He found himself mingling in with the crowd, or hanging with Auni in the room he and Kia shared, or just sitting staring off at a wall of a random classroom, more often than not. Sleep was something of a mystery - with little to tire his body out, and less to keep his mind busy, and plenty to stir his anxieties up, he just… didn't sleep.
So he kept wandering, kept exploring, kept reading even if it drove him slowly mad. At this rate, Longnight would feel like only two or three days, with the amount of sleep he got in between the extended periods of tedious existence. He was in the library, sitting on a relatively soft chair, reading a book on some arcane magical topic that he normally would never have access to, or a need to read - but reading it anyway because it was more interesting than staring at the fire, or the wall, or anything else in this midnight nightmare of a time.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
Spending Longnight away from family is so different. There's a constant undercurrent of worry, of stress, Hester unable to see the people she knows best, the people she cares about most, but she's confident they're safe. They've weathered a lifetime of this, one more Longnight won't kill them. Though, telling herself that is only so much of a balm. She still needs to find something to fill the space in her head, something to shoo the worry to the darker corners were it can be contained, managed, and that thing turns out to be conversation.
There are so many people cooped up whom she's never met, never even seen, and every one of them has a story, even if they aren't all willing to share. Even if most of them aren't even willing to talk for long with a nosy stranger. The library is where she'd had the worst luck finding people, but it was during one of those times where most people were asleep, the large room nearly empty.
Maybe she should take advantage of the opportunity the quiet room provided, and spend some time with her fiddle, instead of bothering people. The fact that the fiddle had to potential to bother everyone instead of just one person didn't even cross her mind while she pulls the instrument from the case slung over her back. It only took a moment to set up, a moment for a series of slow, haunting notes to sound, filling the library. They arranged themselves into a song easily, though Hester couldn't let herself relax completely. Her eyes moved around, scanning for anyone coming to yell, to ask her to stop.
Though luck seemed to not be on her side, one of the strings snapping just as the song was about to pick up, cutting off the sound with a sad plink, and a much louder "Fuck."
So lost in his thoughts, the book in his hands blurring before his weary eyes, he almost didn't notice the tune when it began. It was a gentle tune, luring and haunting; fitting for a library setting. It almost lured him to the world of slumber, letting the twitchy, anxious energies that plagued him drip away into the plush seat beneath him.
Then, with far less subtlety than when it began, it ended, a definitive plink resounding as the strings bounced together with far less harmony, and a vocal note that certainly wasn't a lyric swiftly following. He was awake again, the book in his hands closed, a deep chuckle rumbling up from his chest, echoing through the library.
With a slow, stretching movement, he rose, returning the book to its place on the shelf, and casting his gaze out over the great room to identify the source of the song that was so abruptly broken. Spying the culprit, bow and fiddle in hand, he offered a small frown of concern as he approached.
"Sorry to hear the tune end. Do you have a string to replace the broken one?" He gestured to the instrument, spying the frayed string with a sad quirk of his mouth, hmming softly.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
Despite her attempts at awareness, someone still manages to get the drop on her. Though, it's not exactly a complaint, more a laugh, at her expense. Hester huffs, assuming the disembodied voice is glad that she hadn't had the chance to get started, but jokes on them. She sits, setting the fiddle across her lap and reaching into it's case, searching for her spare strings.
Her head pops up just in time for her heart to leap out of her throat, a man suddenly far closer to her than she'd expected. She jumps, dropping her little bag of strings, and lets out another quiet curse, before wincing and looking up at the stranger, an automatic "Sorry." falling from her lips, just as she parses the question she's been asked. "Of course I do. And if you have any requests for when I've got it all back together, feel free to make them. I'll play anything for someone not telling me to stop."
The words come with a bright grin, though she worries belatedly that she might be being a bit too intense for the man. He looks wrung out, exhausted, unused to making his own days and nights in the deep freeze of Longnight. Another sign of an Outlander, though his voice, his strange accent had already outed him as such.
"Sorry," he said, almost in perfect synchrony with hers, when he saw how his approach had startled her. He allowed a slanted grin to tug on his lips, waving away her apology.
Good music was something he always admired, not having a musical bone in his body, he could play chopsticks on the piano and that was about it. He had a healthy respect for those who could craft or play music, healthier still if they could do both. He was openly pleased when he saw that she was fixing the fiddle already, hoping to match the bright grin she wore, though also knowing that the general fatigue that plagued him probably made it a bit softer around the edges.
"Can't say I know the name of anything from here to be able to request it. I'd be glad to hear whatever tickles your fancy," he spread his hands, before sitting in another chair. He was tired, exhausted really, the days blending into one long torturous event for him, but sleep just wouldn't come easily too him. The newness of this event, the upheaval of their living arrangements (and everything else that was on his mind what are timelines) had him twitching with anxious energy whenever he tried to rest, so there was little else to do but keep putting himself to whatever work he could do in the meantime.
"What sort of material do you use for the string?" he asked, curious to know if it was equine-derived hair like some instruments on his homeworld, or a Caido variant. He looked at the way she expertly re-strung the instrument, admiring the shape of the fiddle as much as the easy, familiar way she handled its maintenance. It was nice, comforting almost, in an odd way that Chuy would not be able to explain if pressed to.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
As soon as their apologies collide into each other, the little bit of defence in her shoulders drops, and her grin grows that much more genuine.
Well isn't he polite? Whatever tickles her fancy is usually fast paced, fight songs and drinking songs, but she can tell just by looking at him that that's not what needs. There's no doubt that he'd sit through it, but she could do better, make a better choice. Song choices flit through the back of her mind, a tune already flitting to her fingers for when she's ready to play again. "I think I know something you might like." Comes the offer, a wink accompanying it automatically.
"It's Luxere gut!" She answers brightly, delighted in the interest and immediately perking up. "Scavenged, mostly. I've tried regular elk, and ningo, but it just doesn't sound the same." Her hands don't need the guidance of her eyes, which glance up to roam over the man's face. There's maybe a little bit of a flourish added to her fingers, a difficult feat considering the precision required for what she's doing.
It's a task done quickly, the slightly more arduous task of re-tuning the string facing her now. While she plucks the string, twisting it's peg back and forth, her head cocks, striking up conversation. "Is this your first Longnight?" It's a question asked more out of politeness, and easy way to start something, because honestly, it's a little bit obvious this is his first time.
He smiled, pleased to have found someone with bubbly, friendly energy in this world of serious, stony and silent types. As he settles in across from her, watching her expertly re-string her instrument, he idly wondered at who the girl was - a Natural, most likely, a local, used to the tough climate and developing her own way of living in it. He would be forever impressed by those who lived in this land, the toughest of the tough, remote and challenging - and he was compelled to think that even though his homeland was known as one where only the toughest survived, that did not necessarily make him built to endure this land.
"Oh wow," he commented, nodding as she explained the material her strings were made of. "Want not waste not," he quipped with a smirk, wondering if the saying would mean anything to her.
He spread his hands as if having just been caught out, letting a soft laugh rumble from his throat. "Am I that obvious?"he chuckled out, before adding, "Don't answer that - I know." He waved his hand as if settling his previous words, clearing the air to give her a real response. "Yeah, first ever Longnight. Arrived not long before Deepfrost began." Belatedly he realised he hadn't introduced himself properly, and so sought to remedy that. "Name's Chulane, though most call me Chuy." A soft look of inquisition touched his face, as he hoped for her own name in return, to keep the conversation flowing until her melody of choice was permitted to fill the space all around them once more.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
Fingers paused their plucking at the quip, Hester's eyes narrowing on the man for a moment. "Isn't it...?" She trails off, looking away as she gives it a moment of thought. Realization comes in that moment, and her hands rise to hide her eyes from him, but not the sheepish grin that crosses her face. "I always thought it was reversed. No one's ever corrected me!" She laughs, half embarrassed and half amused.
With her hands already distracted from their task, she can respond with more theatrics. His answer is the same as what she'd expected, of course he's obvious, but she can't help from commenting on it. "There's a little tell." She puts her hands on her hips and offers him an over-exaggerated wink as she does her best attempt at his accent. The pose is held for a moment, her hands falling back into their tuning naturally. "You're the second person I've met who arrived around that time." She comments, wondering if it's mere coincidence, or some grand pattern, far beyond their comprehension. "Sorry you got stuck with such an awful time to arrive."
The nickname had her brow rising, a cheeky edge entering her grin. "Chuy, huh?" She hums, lifting the fiddle up against her chin, finally satisfied with the tone to was producing. "But how's the taste?" Her laughter is drowned out in the scale she flies through, one last check that everything sounds right before she plays him something. "Hester Mac Girr An Adhastair." Comes the offer back, between scale and song, her chin dipping with the rhythm of her name. "Just Hester is fine though."
With that, she lifts her bow back up to the strings, glancing at Chuy to make sure he's paying attention, t make sure he doesn't have anything immediate to add before she begins her song.
He chuckled as she questioned the little quip, and then he doubted whether he had repeated the saying correctly - perhaps it was just different here on Caido, or perhaps he had stuffed it up. It barely mattered - she seemed to understand his sentiment and he was pleased to hear her laugh it off with ease.
His grin deepened as she mimicked his accent, and he shrugged and bowed his head as if bested in a match of wits to her mastery of identifying him as a newbie to the realm. A brow raised in curiosity at her observation, he couldn't help but want to know who else was new, who else had arrived here so recently? "Oh? You'll have to introduce me - are they in the Academy for Longnight?" He appreciated her apology, but it was hardly needed now - he had accepted the hand dealt with him and was working to make the most of it. Besides, it wasn't like the girl was responsible for it; he merely offered another nod, another small smile to the apology.
Her joke had him laughing again, it wasn't the first time someone had made it, but he hadn't heard it repeated here yet - the people of Halo were far too serious, far too focussed on surviving their harsh surrounds to see the light of a moment, to laugh and joke and poke fun at one another. It was refreshing - it was a relief, and he sorely needed it. "Hester," he repeated, to ensure he got it right.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he spoke genuinely, smiling broadly as he gestured for her to commence her tune, leaning back more in his chair to settle in and grant her his full attention.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
"I... think she is? I mean, she must be, I know she's an outlander, so unless someone else took her in..." The ramble ends with a quiet hum, Hester trying to summon that first day back to her mind, the chaos and changes and busyness. "Her name is Mallorie." The name is the last thing out of her lips on the subject, though it's not the last she has to say, not by a long shot.
"She's actually the first outlander that I met." Hester says softly, before stroking her chin and appending the statement. "That I know of, at least. Usually they, er... you," a short laugh, "stick out though, so... she might have been the first." There are times where Hester's been described as 'a little too much', and she can clearly hear her mothers voice in her head now, telling her to stop talking, to let anything else do her speaking for her, instead of letting every idle thought flow through her mouth.
She offers Chuy a smile and a nod at the correct pronunciation of her name, hazarding to use her voice once more to reply. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." And then? Then she lets her fiddle do her talking for her.
Fingers move skilfully over the strings, long bright notes ringing out into the library, too jaunty to really be melancholy, but too slow to be anything else. The sound swelled, filling the area, and Hester's eyes closed, just as everything picked up, as the melancholy shifted into a jig, the kind of song that sounded as at home here as it would echoing off the top of a mountain. Even without words, it brought to mind somewhere safe waiting just around the bend, with a warm bed and good food, better liquor and company.
It isn't a long song, though it seems to slow down the time that passes as it's played, seems to stretch so much more time into the few short minutes the song lasts. Hester lets out a deep breath as she lowers her bow and fiddle both, eyes opening to look over at Chulane, searching for his reaction before her voice requested it. Korbin's voice rang in her ears now, accusing her of being pitchy though she shoved it away in favour of the man before her. "What'd you think?"
He likes that she rambles, that she lets her words run away with her a bit. He was guilty of such things himself, on topics he was passionate about - usually farming or animal or medicine talk, though since coming here he was prone to ramble about Attuning too. He chuckles at the jab about being obvious because, well, it was true - though he had picked up more of a local wardrobe, and figured out the trading/bartering system that was used in place of currency, his accent still outed him as an Outlander.
Hell, even on Earth his accent had done that when he was travelling overseas.
Nodding his head in anticipation of the beginning of her tune, he found himself moving his fingers in line with notes that were strung from her skilled hands, bouncing slightly as the melody willed it. He felt his emotions shift with the swell, rising higher, some unidentified tension building within him - and then the music shifted, and he let the breath he was holding release with it, tapping his toes along with the jig, letting the story the music wove bring a soft smile to his mouth.
When it eventually fades, he finds himself greedily wanting more - it had been so long since he had heard any kind of music, outside of workmen humming or his own extremely poor renditions of songs from his homeworld. "Too short," he said in immediate response to her question, smiling good-naturedly as he held his hands open before her to assure her didn't mean his criticism in a harsh way. "No, for real, I could happily lose myself to it all night long."
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
All of the anxieties fall away from her shoulders at his first, immediate comment. A bright laugh leaves her, her head thrown back in a giddy kind of joy. There's a heat in her cheeks when she settles, and leans in to hear the rest of his thoughts, biting her lip in anticipation. "Thank you, really, but... I'm not that good yet." Hester insists, unable to quite meet Chuy's eyes when she says it. "I'm hoping to learn more once the Flowerbirth thaw comes, and I can go through the portals. Maybe I'll play more for you then." The words come with a wink, though she doesn't make any move to put the instrument away. She'd come to the library to play, and play she would. After she'd satisfied her own curiosity, asked her questions.
A soft sigh leaves her, and she plucks absently at the strings of her fiddle, looking back up at Chulane. "You haven't seen anything but Halo yet, right?" She asks, before rolling her eyes at herself. If he'd arrived at the beginning of the season, and the portals have been snowed over, how could he have? Shaking her head, she tries a different question. "Are you going to go anywhere else when everything's open again?"
He shrugged as she responded to his comment, glad he could make her laugh, though internally saddened that she would find such insecurity in her own work. He wasn't one to judge though - it only took a few harsh words to stir up the insecurities about himself. He hated the feeling, and so aimed to never be responsible for others feeling the same way. Hester would only find honest, constructive feedback from him, and right now? He liked what he heard.
"In my admittedly limited experience with music, it's not so much about being perfect, but about feeling. How do you feel about the music you make? How does it make your audience feel?" He questioned her gently, smiling all the while. "I can tell you how it made me feel. It's on you to own the rest." It was all he could offer by way of advice - he'd never think to pick apart that which he otherwise had no idea about. "And I'm more than happy to be your test audience while you figure that part out." He added with a soft laugh.
He shifts in his seat as she began her questions, more than happy to answer them. "I arrived just before the portals closed off, managed a day trip to the Grounds before the storms hit." He commented, smiling as he reflected on the memory. "I have a date in Torchline arranged," he chuckled softly, his expression changing into something wholesome as he thought of Kia, and the joy she beckoned from his heart. "And it would seem a 'meet the parents' dinner is on the agenda too, back in the Grounds." Another chuckle, though this one held perhaps a bit more anxiety than before.
"What about you? Gonna play your music in the Athenium? It's quite a bite bigger than here," he gestured with a broad sweeping of his hands to the library surrounding them.
it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers
Well now there's a point she can't argue with, no matter how the urge rises in Hester. "I feel good about playing other peoples songs." She offers honestly, heat spreading over her face as she spoke honestly. "I want to be able to make people forget about their troubles for a while. And to... feel a part of something bigger." She wanted others to feel the same way she did when she played, to share that joy and awe, and maybe that was still the part she was struggling with. Putting enough of herself into the notes.
The offer has the half formed thoughts flying out of her mind though, the bright smile returning, as if it had never left. "You know I'm going to take you up on that." Hester threatens jokingly, shaking her bow in Chuy's direction like her music was a real danger.
Bow and fiddle both are placed across Hester's lap as she leans in to soak up the answers to her questions, jealousy flaring up in her at the fact that he'd managed something she never had, in only a few short months here. She passes by it though, in favour of being excited by the next words. "A date?" Both hands rise up to Hester's cheeks, excitement for him seeping out of every bit of her. "What are you going to do? Other than," she gestures wildly, "be in Torchline." Chuy's whole face has bloomed into a frankly contagious joy, though Hester can't help the way her head cocks at just how busy this relationship seems to have made him. And really, "When did you have time to get into a relationship?" Maybe it's a little close, a little demanding to ask a mostly stranger, but she's genuinely interested, genuinely excited for him.
As the questions are turned back on her, she shrinks a little looking away from Chuy's face and shrugging. "I don't quite know about... playing in other places, yet. I... want to travel around though, and learn different songs, and different skills, from other people. I taught myself how to play, mostly, and I'm sure there's... other ways to play."
