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!
"You do. You lie to yourself." She narrowed her eyes as he circled her, like a bird circling a carcass, and turned to follow, gaze never leaving him. It was almost a pity he'd not pass out, someone had taught him a bit, then.
"When all that's left is your rotting corpse, it's the problem of the people you've left behind." She reached for the knife, thin fingers grasping at air.
"Close your eyes and tell me, who do you see at your funeral?" She was getting annoyed; Delphine wasn't as patient as she once had been.
He was only heading for the door, to get out of here. Keeping the knife out of reach so she couldn't snatch it away, Korbin smiled grimly at her.
"What funeral? They didn't hold one for Weaver, what makes you think I'll get one?" He had though. Had made a pyre burn red-hot and high for her, for himself. If he was rotting it was only natural; he had died the day she did, and all that was left was a walking husk. Only fit for pouring vodka into.
But fine, let's play along. Korbin closed his eyes, pictured the pyre. Who would light it? Who would scatter the ashes, pour out a drink in the snow, who would raise the shout to burn brightly?
"No one," he shrugged, and sounded merely accepting. Not bitter, or lonely. His family was dead, after all. "I don't see anyone." Because he didn't believe that anyone actually cared. They just said it to ease their own conscience, to make themselves feel less helpless. All people did were for themselves, to satisfy their own ego, and he was no different.
It was Weaver they loved. Weaver who mattered. And as Korbin opened his eyes again with a shrug, it was clear that he saw nothing worth mourning in his own passing. If he lied to himself, it was not about this.
Delphine followed him, he had a newly sharpened knife, she couldn't just let him waltz about. "You gave her one, didn't you? You burned your home, I assumed..." The woman had paid attention to rumors.
She'd probably never fit in here. As he closed his eyes, she reached again for the knife. "You see nobody? Really? That's depressing. Maybe you should, ah, dunno, fix that... by not lying to yourself, and accepting help."
There was an easier way to deal with the man, so she voiced it. "I'm... you need help, and you won't help yourself. Either you help yourself, or I'll go to the Warden, tell her how much of a danger you are to yourself and others. I bet whoever fought with you would agree."
She didn't like giving such an ultimatum, and it showed in how she offered the choices, almost silently pleading the man to pick helping himself over having help forced upon him. After all, if she had too, she could surely convince Noah it was what was best, couldn't she?
Her conversation with Neron briefly ran through her thoughts; he'd called her all sorts of names and had meant every word. Korbin and Neron would probably get along. "I can't let you take the knife from here, I need it." It wasn't like she didn't have more knives, but...
The raven didn't answer. That was too private, too personal to even acknowledge. Again he kept the knife from her, by backing off when he sensed her approach. It was easy enough, her very presence made his skin prickle with discomfort.
The ultimatums earned her a look of pure disgust. The worst part was that she had no idea how heavy the threat of the Warden was. Couldn't know, because only Morgan knew of the warning he had been issued. Brought upon himself in a fit of desperation, to endure that any further loss of control on his part would be seen and felt. There were eyes on him, and it was quite possible that a complaint from this woman would see him jailed, or even exiled.
It was ridiculous that he was forced to choose between booze and his homeland. Utterly unacceptable, and as his eyes flashed the fingers holding the knife whitened.
When he could no longer restain himself, Korbin took a quick step aside and threw the knife. It whistle past the blonde girl and lodged itself in the cutting board, quivering tip down in the wood. So firmly stuck that she might need Noah to get it back out.
"That's blackmail, you fucking cunt, and I will not forget that. You want me to stop drinking? Fine. I'll stop. But if you ever get near me again I will not care about what the Warden or Noah might do, I'll make you go away. One way or another."
Despite the rage his voice was quiet, dangerously soft and perfectly serious. It took a lot to push Korbin over the edge but there had been a lot of pushing and a lot of breaking in him, and he was close now. Close enough to wonder if exile might not be worth the satisfaction of snapping her pretty little neck.
Delphine whirled to watch the knife implant itself into the wood, and quietly cursed. How close had he been to tossing it at her? His words drew her gaze, and hazel hues fixed on him, wide, innocent.
"Hope you won't need my help detoxing, then." She responded, tousling her hair to hide her discomfort, at the fact that knife was probably meant for her. "Good luck, Korbin. You'll probably need it." She turned, moving to the table to pluck up some herbs.
Tossing them into a pouch, she tossed the pouch to him, placing a table between herself and him, that stupid knife stuck in the wood. "Those'll help."
06-22-2020, 11:01 PM (This post was last modified: 06-23-2020, 08:57 PM by Korbin.)
The ringing in his ears drowned out most of what she said. Fortunately perhaps, for both of them. As the girl carefully put a table between them Korbin focused on simply breathing, hoping to somehow quench the urge to go after her.
Here it was again. The monster. The cold, cruel beast that lashed out and threatened, that raged and snapped at anything and anyone that got close. Was this him? Had he always been like this? Or had something snapped inside him when Weaver died? He had been angry before and worried about it, but never like this. Gods, what was wrong with him?
Shaking, clammy with cold sweat as the worst of the rage faded, Korbin watched a pouch of herbs hit the floor before his feet. Staring at it, he slowly began to realize what he had agreed to do. No drink. That meant no numbness to ease the pain. No blackness to grant him sleep, no matter how brief. He would be left naked in the void, and nothing and no one could make it better.
There was no better. Was it really worth it? Was the cold wind and the White plains, the small town and the familiar strangers really worth it? Would rather live in pain here than drink himself into a grave somewhere else?
He didn't know. Didn't know if this was an oath worth keeping.
The future was cursed regardless of what he chose. Halo or not Halo? It didn't matter so... might as well just stick with what he knew.
Turning without a word, Korbin didn't take the herbs. Just headed straight for the door and slammed it hard after himself. Wishing it actually helped make him feel anything.
As it turned out, he was in for a lot of feeling over the days that followed. Stubborn as he was, Korbin was firm in his belief that he could quit and that it was just a matter of willpower to stop. He didn't actually want this, mind. But somewhere between the threats and the cajoling, he had started to doubt his own words. It lit a fire to prove at least to himself that he wasn't addicted, that the drink was a conscious choice, and that stopping wasn't a problem.
He was wrong.
It started predictably with the shakes a few hours after the last drink. Inconvenient, but he could suffer through it. They grew worse though, and the next day the fever set in. He had been unable to sleep for a long time, and the anxiety attacks that shook him did nothing to help. His condition grew steadily worse, hour by hour, until he was so out of his mind with hallucinations that he was shunted off to a corner and watched by concerned customers.
When the fist seizure started, he was carried bodily by the owner of the old tavern into the medical station, and dropped onto a cot. Korbin didn't notice; he was half unconscious, shaking uncontrollably as the toxins wrecked his body.
When Korbin was brought in, Delphine wasn't there. She was curled up in bed, but that did not stop the old bar-owner from banging on the door, possibly waking Noah, but definitely waking her.
Grumbling, she padded out of the room and into the one next door, to find Korbin, seizing on a cot. The woman had promised him she'd stay away, but...
He'd probably die if she just left him.
She'd also promised not to heal him.
Delphine grumbled softly and began to rummage through the herbs on the table, before deciding it'd be easier to treat him if he'd stop seizing. So, carefully, she moved to him, after putting a batch of herbs to steep for tea.
It was likely he'd not remember anything, as it were. She rested her hands against his arm, counting for his pulse, and debating her options.
At least he'd kept his promise, and stopped drinking. She'd kept her end of it, and hadn't gone to the warden about him. Fair was fair.
In the end, she settled for the easiest option, and where her hands were pressed to his wrist, she carefully began to heal him. One hand released his wrist and reached to press to his head.
Not... all the way, but enough so that he wasn't on the verge of death. She could be petty and force her teas on him, let him go back to work at a disabled pace. After all, part of what made detox work was the pain of going through it. Besides, going to heal him completely, she might slip up and alter his depression or anxiety, and screw him up even more. It wasn't her own sadistic need to see this man crumble and cry that kept her from fixing his ailment fully.
When she decided he was no longer at risk of dying, she moved towards the fire, to stir the kettle and taste it, sweet with a variety of herbs to fend off the various symptoms he'd continue to experience.
Holding the kettle so it'd cool, she spoke up, softly: "You seize and shake when your blood sugar's low, you know. The body mistakes alcohol as sugary goodness. That'll help, and..." She claimed some bread, drizzled in honey, settling it beside his cot. "...that'll help."
06-23-2020, 12:27 AM (This post was last modified: 06-23-2020, 08:57 PM by Korbin.)
He was not quite present for any of what happened. Korbin felt as though he was descending into some pit of hell, where the reactions of his body were secondary to the torment in his mind. The nightmares were brought alive anew, and this time they stayed even into his waking hours. Monsters roamed the streets of the village, ripping to pieces everyone he knew, and every time the realization struck that he was the monster. The blood on his hands, the broken doors, the strewn bodies, it was him, all him.
He was the monster. Because he couldn't love these people more than his dead kin, he would hurt them. Leave them. Voices came to him, angry and accusatory. Would he really leave them to die just to keep thibgs the same as they always had been? Necessary sacrifices, or at least inevitable, lest Halo changed beyond recognition. Korbin hated change. Hated disruption and chaos. His hold on life, on his own place in the scheme of things was so tenuous that his whole world shook at the slightest thing. Without Weaver to serve as anchor, he only had the community to fall back on. Customs and traditions that he didn't even participate in. But they were there, and it was enough to lend at least a cursory illusion of stability.
But it wouldn't last, would it. Would it? Change was brought on by the outsiders, by the Voice and her creatures, by those who had stronger minds than his and did not fear change. Or letting people in. By those who still knew how to trust.
Still he would rather tie them all down and condemn them all to the dangers of the Tundra than give up on what he knew. It was wrong. Sick and twisted, but what could he do? His mind couldn't keep up, couldn't process the changes, couldn't even see them because it was only shadows in his own head. Fear, so much fear, terrified of more loss because it would invariably break him.
If he wasn't already broken. He was, wasn't he? Why else was he lying here in this bed, forced to endure a woman he'd threatened to kill? Or...whatever his thoughts had been on at the time. Korbin couldn't quite recall what had been said that time. Not much of anything beyond the past few.. well, for a long time really. Kiada's fist connecting with his face was clear, and stumbling into Neron's room afterwards, but... the rest was a blur.
He did remember rage. And threats. And a stupid deal.
The scent of honey and tea was cloying, a thick odor that clogged his airways. The nausea wouldn't let up, and he turned his head away from the food, from the woman.
Korbin wished they would just let him be. If he died, so be it. That would be better for everyone.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
Noah received the information from Delphine about what had happened that day between her and Korbin. The fact that Korbin had thrown a knife at her, that Delphine wanted to help him get clean--all of it (from her side, of course). It made Noah's stomach churn and worry set in his bones again for the younger Halovian. He had wanted to go and find Korbin and stay with him, but having been working long hours overseeing and taking care of the needs of others here in the Academy was enough of an argument for Delphine to get him to stay with her, and find Korbin when they awoke.
Unfortunately, they didn't get that chance. In the middle of them sleeping, there was a loud banging on their door and a man who Noah knew as the old tavern keeper outside spewing the information about Korbin. Noah was up and dressed in a decent enough manner and following after Delphine before she could speak.
Delphine moved and readied herbs and teas and food for Korbin. Noah watched over him, a chair slid up next to his cot. It was all he could do. He was not a healer. He was just a hunter, a friend, sitting here, giving his silent support and company to the man who didn't want it. His muscles were tight as he leaned over his knees, chin resting on clutched hands, praying to any god who would listen, even in Longnight, that the raven would make it through this.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
As Korbin turned away, Delphine sighed and moved to curl her arms around Noah's neck, whispering in his ear, "He'll survive the night. Healing it completely, it'd get him clean and better quickly enough, but... serves no purpose if it isn't what he wants." She murmured.
Once again, she was here for the dazzling blonde man, selfish as she was, she'd always seek to protect him from pain, as long as it suited her. And right now, Noah was someone she cared about; near to the level of care she held for Remi. And that was certainly saying something, though she'd not uttered the words herself.
"If he won't take the drink, and the food..." She tsked, running her fingers through Noah's hair. It calmed her, whether or not it calmed her. "...well, I'll have to heal him, if it comes to that." She released Noah easily, and wandered from sight, to dress properly, because she was only in one of Noah's shirts.
She'd return, still wearing whatever shirt she'd snagged from Noah, but paired with loose pants. "Korbin, you... kept your end of our deal, I kept mine. But you don't get to just stop. Eat the food and drink the tea." She had left Noah to watch the man, bundling some herbs up. "I healed you just enough, that if you follow my instructions, you won't be stuck in this room for the rest of LongNight." She stated, back to both men.
Vaguely aware that Noah had appeared and sat beside him, Korbin didn't look up to acknowledge the man's presence. The girl's presence, her voice and the very sound of her moving around was grating on him, nails on a blackboard, teeth on edge and a heavy feeling in hands that longed to choke something. The smug tones, the gloating instructions did nothing to help, and it was a miracle that the growl at the back of his throat didn't resound through the room.
Korbin kept his eyes closed, moved as far away from the woman and the food as he could get. Stupid stubbornness, absolutely, but he also didn't care to throw up again. Or give her any kind of opening, because even though it was vague, he remembered hands intruding on him, humiliating rocking and singing, being treated like a by someone only a fraction older.
"Get her away from me," he eventually growled, through clattering teeth. "Get that fucking stalker bitch out of my face!" He didn't care that Noah slept with her, or that he might get a fist to his face for the tone. It would not be the first time, Noah could get in line.
the devil you know is better than the ghost you don't
The Hale twisted away from the food and drink he was offered. Noah watched him, worry set deep into the wrinkles of his forehead. When Delphine spoke, Noah looked up to her and straightened his back. "What can I do?" Noah knew that the tone Delphine was taking with Korbin was justified -- the two of them had been going back and forth on these problems before now. Noah knew Delphine wanted to help, and he guessed that it was out of her care for him rather than her care of the raven, at the core. If Delphine could give him the instructions to care for the Hale, however, he thought he could prevent--
And he couldn't.
Korbin snarled and called Delphine a bitch. While he still held worry his friend's well-being, he would not stand for such treatment of the woman he held. Noah stood up, his form suddenly imposing, looming, angry. "Enough!" He boomed, deep voice harsh and strong and cold as ice. "You will not speak to her that way. You will sit up, and drink the damn tea, take the herbs, and work." Fists tightened at his sides. He turned to Delphine. "Unless you are telling him what to take as far as herbs and medicines go, you don't speak to him without me."
At this point, Noah was starting to wonder if he was the only sane person in Halo. While grief and depression sunk deep into the breast of the raven, he wondered if everyone else was suffering from being locked up in the Academy for so long. Perhaps bringing everyone here was a mistake -- maybe he should have just left them all to fend for themselves, in their homes, like they've always done.
so I sit and the scan the frequencies, watch the falling snow
Delphine pursed her lips, staring up at Noah as he issued orders, and she nodded, as expected she seemed relieved to receive orders regarding the raven. "If he'd just take these herbs here, and the instructions... he shouldn't wind up in here again," she murmured, almost a promise, though she couldn't safely promise she may not wind up with the raven in her care again.
She reached out, to grasp one of Noah's curled hands, and she aimed to carefully loosen his grip, so that she could slip her hand into his. If she was successful, she'd squeeze his hand tightly, and whisper, "It's just words, Noah. Let me get those instructions prepped, and I'll leave. Maybe you'll have better luck." She felt guilty, leaving Korbin in Noah's care, even if it was relatively simple at this point.
Noah had so much to take care of; more than just Korbin, or even himself. She moved to the table, scribbling simple instructions, with times and herbs and how they needed to be steeped and how much she had given him. She tied the pouch, instructions tucked inside, to a small jar of honey that she'd brought with her, and flashed Noah a smile.
Words couldn't hurt her anymore than she was already hurt. There was a time Delphine would have cried over words, or knives thrown at her... but that had been a literal world away. Things had been different then. "Come back to bed when you're done?" She didn't wait for an answer, though it was most certainly a question, before she had left the room, the door of the room next to it opened and shut quietly.
She'd not sleep until Noah came back, but it was better than lingering where she wasn't wanted.
06-23-2020, 06:40 PM (This post was last modified: 06-23-2020, 08:56 PM by Korbin.)
The sudden volume of Noah's anger was unexpected. Unusual; he couldn't remember when he'd last heard the Olson raise his voice. It was enough to make Korbin flinch where he lay, but not enough to make him obey. He'd never been one to follow orders, unless they were from Weaver, and this time he didn't care to listen. The raven only retreated further into himself, withdrawing behind the barrier of sarcasm and scorn that had proved the most effective in driving people off.
"Or what?" he muttered, though not until the woman had left. "You gonna shove it down my throat? Are you going to hit me too, like Kiada did? Lock me up, send me into exile? I don't think I care anymore."
Maybe it would be a relief, after all. If he outstayed his welcome in Halo then he really would be all out of things to try for. No bar, no home, no nothing. Beyond the Fangs there would be no one to hurt, and it would be out of these people's hands if he didn't make it.
It was a good plan. All he had to do was keep burning the bridges, just like this.
