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!
06-22-2020, 05:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-23-2020, 08:54 PM by Delphine.)
delphine
Delphine needed to stop stalking Korbin, but it was hard to do after he'd given her reason to be concerned about him, and not even just that night with Korbin in the med. the station, helping him sleep... But she knew if something happened to Korbin, Noah would be destroyed. So, the blonde had played quiet, meek, slipping to and fro in the large entry-room where the small bar was set up.
She tended to people, she watched Korbin while she did it. She noted that there was always a glass by his elbow, half-full... and she worried, silently about this fact. After all, she knew how destructive alcohol could be.
So, one night when she managed to catch up to Korbin, she cornered him at the med. station. She'd followed him in as he went to rouse the fire, and shut the door behind her, hazel hues narrowing.
"You have a problem, Korbin. You need to address it before you destroy yourself."
Korbin had many problems. Too many to count, and the list of people he preferred to avoid was growing ever longer. The crazy blonde was pretty high up, and he cursed quietly when he found himself cornered by her.
Getting gingerly to his feet from where he had been kneeling before the fireplace, Korbin crossed his arms over the chest and scowled down at her. A black bruise shadowed the right side of his jaw, and the lower lip was cut and swollen. It did nothing to soften his expression.
"Which one would that be? The people stalking me, the way people I care about wind up dead, or my general lack of interest in your opinion? As you can see, there are a few to pick from."
There was a reek of alcohol and unwashed clothes about him. Inevitable while cooped up in a facility not meant to house so many people (and a lack of spare change even if he had been inclined towards personal hygene) but Korbin's lack of care for his own body was almost aggressive at this point.
His gaze flitted towards the closed door behind her, measuring the distance. Maybe he could make it before she blocked the way.
Delphine stared at the man, shaking her head slowly. "You stink. Your face is fucked up, and listen, you're killing yourself with booze. I don't know if, maybe that's what bartenders do? Kill themselves with booze? But you're doing a pretty good job of it," she stayed in front of the door, arms crossing.
"You need to start taking care of yourself. You're becoming a public health hazard," she spat the words. It bothered her to be so mean to the man, but it seemed like the best way to get at him... Not that being mean had worked with Neron, though she'd not been trying to accomplish much more than making the Launceleyn uncomfortable.
It was easy to do when you'd once loved someone.
"And if you die, you're going to be hurting Noah, and so many other people." She paused, studying the man, someone had a go at him, and she wondered who, so she could thank them.
"Besides, don't you know alcohol makes depression worse?"
His mouth twisted into a smile that looked quite painful. "What gives you the impression that I'm not doing it on purpose?" His path to the door was blocked. Damn it. He could absolutely just lift her aside, but the idea of touching anyone for any reason was uncomfortable. Not to mention, a complaint might give him trouble with the Warden. Left with no other options, Korbin forced his shoulders down into some semblance of relaxation, and lenaned back against the fireplace.
"What's it gonna take for you to leave me alone? What I do with myself and my life is not your business. Nor anyone else's."
Quiet words to Noah did nag at him. A promise, a reassurance that the hunter wouldn't lose him. But it seemed like such an empty thing now. Who could ever keep that kind of promise? Everyone died. Everything was lost. It was only a matter of time.
"You should find another hobby. Or someone else to torment."
"Because I have to hope you'd not knowingly hurt yourself and others... Because this, knowingly hurting yourself, would make you that monster that you fear." She snarled, drifting into silence as he asked what it'd take to make her leave him alone.
"Quit drinking. Quit drinking and I'll leave you alone." She wasn't here for herself, no, she was here for Noah. His needs came first in this scenario.
Her lips curled into a frown, "I'll get another hobby if you quit drinking and try to have a fucking life worth living. It's hard losing family, I get that, my parents died when I was eight, my brother beat me until the day he died, I lost my kids, my husband, my home and most of the people I knew are probably dead and buried. I get it."
She spoke fast, and quick, aiming to hurt. "You aren't the only person in this room that's lost their world. But the difference between you and me is that I'm trying. And I can't keep trying if I know you're going to let yourself die, recklessly, and stupidly when I can help you, and hurt Noah."
He had been... not exactly in a good mood, but relatively neutral, all things considered. Buzzed, numb and not angry. That was quickly changing though, because as much as Korbin didn't want to admit it, her words were hitting where it hurt.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want with myself," he snapped back. "If it hurts anyone else then that's their problem, not mine. I never asked anyone to care - the exact opposite in fact."
The very idea that he was responsible for her efforts or lack thereof was preposterous. Laughable. "You can't help me, because for one, I don't want your help and for the other, the only way you could possibly make anything worth living for would be to bring me back my family. Without them there is no fucking point to anything, and I fail to see even one reason to try anything."
Agitation and the drink made him talk more than he wanted, but by now there were already so many who knew about his reasonings that Korbin didn't care. Not beyond the disgust he felt at giving her anything, even the slightest bit of information.
06-22-2020, 06:57 PM (This post was last modified: 06-22-2020, 06:57 PM by Delphine.)
delphine
Noah saw Korbin as family. She knew that much. Delphine's lips curled, as she snarled, "Family is most certainly not only blood-kin. I know Noah considers you family, and he considered Weaver family. Did you know, the night he learned of her death, he drank himself into a stupor?" Of course, that night had been when they'd started their relationship. "I'm afraid of what he'd do if you offed yourself, too." She leaned into the door, fingers tapping on the wood.
"You know that monster you were afraid of becoming?" Her voice was low, "The monster you can't escape from? It's getting real close to being too late, Korbin."
The woman drifted into silence, and closed her eyes. Then, quietly, as if reciting from a list, "There's Noah, Chulane probably knows you, shit, most of Halo probably cares about you Korbin. This place is so small it's like everyone's family." She scowled, fingers tapping harder.
"But... I think you care about yourself. Otherwise, you'd not have let me give you tea for sleep," she murmured. "But, if I'm wrong... then here," She nodded to the nearest table, the dulled knife she used to chop her herbs.
"But would you really like to die without seeing what's on the other side of your depression? There's more than just family in the world, and... like I said once, I'll say it again," shifting her weight, the woman studied the door, back to him.
"Once you die, they're really dead. Sure, their bodies are gone, their souls are with Mort, but once you die... there's nobody that knew them, nobody who remembers them just how you did. Eventually, everyone who knew them will die, and then that's the legacy of the Hales... forgotten," she whispered.
His back was already against the wall. It was just as well, this way she couldn't see him back down. Gods, Korbin hated this girl. Hated all the things she said, all the images she dragged up in his mind. Faces, names, moments torn out of memories half buried, half forgotten. Laughing faces, sad faces, hands waving as he passed down the street, helping hands and hands reaching out to him for support. He used to know all of them. When Erebor wasn't there, when Weaver was out hunting, when his parents died, it had been the townsfolk that kept him safe. Fed. With work to do, so he could feel useful even when his hands were still too small to make a difference.
He used to love them. All of them, even if it was from a distance. Family came first, after all. And each loss made the family more important, because it was his.
But Weaver... Weaver was gone. Nowhere in the crowded rooms could she be found, and what did the other faces mean when they weren't hers?
"Chulane doesn't know shit," he broke in, voice tight with suppressed emotions. He threw a glance at the knife, tempted to take the dare. But there were shades of blackness, and it took a certain measure of determination to put a knife to ones throat. He'd had it. Had been willing, eager even to take the plunge. But as Korbin stared at the knife, willing himself to feel that urge again... it didn't come. Wasn't there. Not because of any promises or feigned life goals or improvised meaning but... The urge to die just wasn't there.
So he was stuck. Unable to live, unwilling to die. And forced once again to be some kind of herald over memories he couldn't bear to look at for long.
"Let people forget. If they didn't bother to know them while they were alive, they don't need to know now." Korbin wasn't sure he believed his own words. His thoughts were a swirling jumble, gaze distant as he kept staring at the knife. Slowly he pushed himself away from the wall and moved towards the table, picked it up and felt the blade with a thumb. It was dull. Trying would be messy, painful. And she had healing magic; he would be stopped.
Fishing into a pocket, Korbin found a whetstone and slowly began to sharpen the edge of the knife. Pain had been reawakened inside, a fresh bleeding that reminded him of all the reasons he kept himself lulled. At some point it just grew unbearable.
"Maybe being a monster wouldn't be so bad," he lied, words like ashes on his tongue. He never used to lie before. "I'd give anything to stop feeling."
Delphine watched as he moved towards the blade. A lifetime of abuse had her anticipating that, perhaps he'd use it on himself, her, or the herbs. But she didn't know him well enough to know which of those choices was the most likely. So, she prepared for what she felt was most likely; him, with that blade, against himself.
"You're lying. You told me yourself, you don't want to be a monster. I'm telling you, if you just stop drinking, give your body a rest, the depression might lessen." She doesn't move from where she's at, afraid that if she does he'll take off out the door, with that knife.
And as much as Delphine only cared about herself, or those who meant something to her... she could not, in good conscience, let the man flee the room with a knife. She had no idea who he'd hurt.
Truth be told, Korbin didn't know himself what he was going to do. All he knew was that he felt chased, hounded, pushed and prodded and disrespected. All he wanted was to be left alone, but people kept appearing before him. Asking questions he had no answers for, unable to answer his own, demanding and weedling him to do and give things he didn't have.
"I don't want to be alive in a world without Weaver either," he retorted. "I don't know what kind of things you consider to be good enough to suffer for, but mine are all gone. I can never hug my mother again. Never speak to my father. My brother will never mess up my hair again, and my sister will never laugh so I can hear it. That was all I wanted. All I ever needed. Everything else was just a means to get by."
Some of the things were nice, some enough to make him laugh, or feel good for a while. Girls kissed and forgotten, songs learned and played, tales told and it had all been for his family. All for them.
The scrape of steel on grindstone filled the silence. The next time Korbin tried the edge, the blade was sharp. Putting away the tool, he twirled the knife between his fingers, deft and skilled. It was a tool he had used every day of his life. He could use it to kill prey for food, to skin it, butcher it, prepare the hides and make clothes, tools, carve the bones and cut the meat for dinner. He could carve crude instruments or throw it at an approaching enemy, cut herbs or put it against his throat, or maybe to the slender neck of his stalker.
"There is no point. Can't you see? I can stop drinking whenever I want, but it wouldn't change anything. All I would have is more of the pain, more of this empty meaningless bullshit of an existence where my loved ones are gone and all I want is to sleep. And even that is beyond me without fucking drugs."
He sure as hell wouldn't try that again.
Slowly, absently, Korbin pushed the tip of the blade into the meat of his palm. It hurt, but he kept going until a bright stream of red flowed out past the steel. Only then did he stop, with gritted teeth, breathing into the pain.
It didn't help. Korbin never thought it would, but now he had tried and... no. It really didn't do anything for him. It was just more pain.
Delphine's face was neutral, as she leaned into the door. As he described his relationship with his family, she smiled quietly, "That sounds so nice, your family... But surely you wanted more than what you had. Everyone seeks love, friendships, relationships beyond familial." She murmured, watching as he sharpened the knife.
The movements were almost calming if she wasn't so worried about what he planned to do next.
"Then stop drinking, now. For the rest of LongNight." She challenged, quietly, following his movements with the knife. "Words mean nothing, but actions? Worth everything." Still, the healer stayed put, raising an arm to point to herbs by his elbow.
"Those will stop the blood flow. I promised you, once, I'd never heal you without consent. You've made it very clear that you don't want that. There are bandages under those rags," she spoke loudly enough to be easily heard, watching and waiting for him to set the knife down.
"I had friends," he told her, watching as the blood trickled slowly down the palm and dripped from the wrist. "Weaver. Erebor. Ezekiel. Two are dead and the third has fucked off somewhere. If he ever comes back I'll be surprised. The rest? I never needed the rest." Had never sought the kind of love that lasted, or found comfort in shallow acquaintances. He had smiled and joked with those he traded with or worked for, but it wasn't enough to lend purpose to a continued existence.
He agreed that only actions mattered. And so far Korbin had seen nothing that proved him wrong. Loren was nowhere in sight. Chulane had run off. Kiada had taken great pleasure in hitting him, and this woman? He didn't even know why she was here. To prove something to herself, or to Noah? She had offered him a knife. Twice now.
"I know. You're not the only one who knows herbs." But Korbin didn't make a move to bandage the wound. It wasn't deep, wouldn't kill him. Hurt like a bitch, but the feeling blended in with his emotional pain until they became echoes of each other. Back and forth, back and forth. And the red stains on the floor kept growing.
"Again. I can stop, but there's no point. I have no reason to prove anything to you. Or anyone else. I'm alive, I'm doing my job, and everytime someone sees me they can remember how much better it was when Weaver was alive. What more is there?"
Delphine pursed her lips, she'd asked Noah what he would do if Ezekiel chose not to come home... and he had ignored it, changed the topic. So she said nothing because she didn't know the younger brother.
Blood pooling on the floor, Delphine watched in silence, before she spoke up, "If you pass out from blood loss, I'm healing you." She almost wanted to open the door and shout for Noah.
Almost.
"Your words mean nothing. I want to see if you really can stop drinking, or are you merely telling yourself that lie until you believe it? Trying to convince yourself that quitting won't give you the shakes, hot-flashes, and so much more?" Her lips pursed, and she shook her head slowly.
"You're a liar." The words dropped from her lips like tears. "And you're going to destroy any trust your family ever had in you if you keep going like this... You're decaying and decayed things eventually turn sour." The blonde stepped away from the door, hands clasped behind her back.
It was not enough blood to make him pass out, and the look the raven flashed her was darkly amused. Strange, how his rudimentary healing skills could help him torture himself. Probably not what Loren had in mind when he instructed Korbin. But then, Loren had left. Was nowhere in sight, and couldn't stop him from doing anything.
"I don't lie," he said, and scowled at her, deeper this time. Because he knew the shakes, and the sweating, and the cramps that came when he... but that was nothing. He could stop, just didn't want to. "My family is dead and if I'm rotting it's no one's problem but mine."
She approached him, left her guard on the door, and the tall youth circled around her. Not about to relinquish this chance to escape - this conversation was going nowhere and he never wanted to engage in it from the start.
"No. You don't get to give me orders, girl." Korbin spun it between his fingers again just for the heck of it, stubborn and defiant.
