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!
06-28-2020, 03:39 PM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2020, 03:50 PM by Ingrid.)
Ingrid
Ingrid looked confused, to put it lightly. Her head was throbbing. Now, she was no stranger to the effects of excessive drinking. She'd lost minutes, hours, hell, even a whole day once. But two seasons? She shook her head. "How shitfaced was I?" She looked around. The large room was packed with civilians, which Ingrid recognized as typical Longnight behavior. How are we holed up again? What happened to Lightning Bitch and her climate magic shit? After all that big talk: "Oh, Magic will keep us warm. Magic will feed us. Magic will give every citizen an orgasm and a free pony." Where did that get us, exactly? she mused. She knew she was being bitter, but Gods, the body odor in this room was strong enough to kill. She began to weave through the crowd, tapping on a shoulder here and there, asking about kids and spouses, and learning as much as she could. Oh. Wow, I missed some shit. This is the inside of the Arcane Academy?
... How was my... pilgrimage? I'm sorry, my what? And I've been drunk ever since I got back? Yikes.
... The Warden is WHOM?
By the time she reached the other side of the room, there was only one thing she knew for certain: she needed a drink. Immediately. Ingrid made a beeline for a makeshift bar in the corner of the room. "Hi, yes. Alcohol?" She reached into her bag, grabbing all of her dried fish jerky and slapping it onto the table to offer for trade.
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Released from the makeshift infirmary and the cot that had been his for the past few days, Korbin almost missed it. It had been quiet, and free of people - with a few exceptions that made up all of the 'almost' part - and smelled better. His hands had almost stopped trembling however, and since he didn't run a fever anymore he had returned to work. Haggard looking, wraith thin and with a graveyard stare... but that was no different from many of the others that haunted these halls.
Like the woman who slammed fish down onto the makeshift counter like she might had not had liquid for a season and might die if she didn't get a drink soon. Recognizing the face, Korbin knew the first for for the shitfaced lie it was. The second... might be more true, if his own detox had taught him anything.
"What took you so long? Thought you'd have been glued to this corner as soon as Night fell," he remarked, as he reached for a clean mug. Filling it with the same half ration as usual, he set it down before the woman and dragged the pile of jerky over. "This is enough for booze to last the rest of LongNight, sure you wanna drink it all away?" But even as he said it, the raven bit off a strip of the leathery meat and set the rest aside; chewing slowly as he reclined in the chair he'd scrounged up for himself.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
"Yeah, I would have thought that, too," she said, gratefully taking the beer. "And the answer is always to drink it all now. Fuck consequences," she declared, chugging the entire beer immediately. "Or at least, I think that's how the saying goes. Remind me of what your name is? Mine's Ingrid."
She put her weight on her back foot and crossed her arms, thinking for a second. "You know, that beer was excellent, actually. I think it's the best I've had in Halo. Do you import it, or do you brew it yourself? Is it aged in wood?" She felt her shoulders relax as the booze flooded her system, dulling the pain in her head. (Pain that would surely come back stronger, but oh well...)
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Hers was a whole different sort of drunk. Cheerfully dancing straight over the edge and content to enjoy the scenery on the way down, quite unlike his own bruised and anguished attempt to drown himself in the oblivion. Korbin hummed vaguely, unable to decide which way was more destructive. But hey, his job was just to serve the booze. Not judge those who chugged it. Wouldn't, even if he'd had any kind of moral ground to stand on while he did.
"Korbin Hale," he replied aroubd the mouthful of dried fish, "and this particular batch is imported. From... the Grounds," he added, after leaning over to check the barrel. "Would assume so, but don't know the details. Previous owner didn't exactly keep a straight ledger." His expression clouded with a bittersweet kind of annoyance,
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
06-28-2020, 05:25 PM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2020, 05:26 PM by Ingrid.)
Ingrid
She laughed. "That explains it. Halo could never grow beer this good," she said. "Who was the previous owner? I knew a few alcohol aficionados over there," she added with a chuckle.
"So, Korbin... What do you serve on a good day?" she asked, looking around for bar stools. She found an empty cask, turned it over and perched herself on top of it. "Is it just beer, or do you import other alcohols, too? I know Zariah has a thing for fine wines, but I'm not sure anyone else here would drink that... Or could afford that fancy shit. I'm sure Safrin would like it, though. You could probably sell wine here just for her. I'm sorry, what was I saying? Oh right, booze."
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
There was a slight tensing of his shoulders. This woman... her mouth just kept running, having no idea what she was talking about. Korbin wished he had Neron's ability to just shut the talk out. He tried pulling in a deep breath. Tried pretending that the things she blabbered on about had nothing to do with him. Like pitting Weaver, Zariah and Sunjata into the same conversation didn't make him want to scream.
It was surprisingly easy. He even managed a wry smile.
"Weaver Hale. My sister. She had some contacts among the outsiders, so the place is fairly well stocked. Beer, ale, cider, wine, hard liqour... you name it. She started on her own brews as well. I haven't had time to take inventory yet for any specifics." That was only half true, but knowing what was in stock was not the same as knowing where it had all come from.
"If I were you, I wouldn't wave Zariah's name around too much... after sacrificing her own kid, no one is giving a damn about what she may or might not like." The day Safrin herself came down from her starry throne to drink his wine was the day Korbin quit and became a priest. Highly unlikely.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
"Oh. I think I met your sister once," Ingrid said, still clearly oblivious. "I had no idea she ran a bar. It's good to know you stock a wide variety," she said, readjusting herself on the barrel. Then, she narrowed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Zariah did what now?" she asked, looking quite caught-off-guard. People said a lot of things about Zariah, many of which weren't necessarily true, but this was a new one. "Hold on, I need..." Ingrid stopped to fish a notebook and a quill out of her bag. The notebook was worn, and the rachis of the feather in the quill was thoroughly stained with ink. "I need to start writing some of this shit down," she muttered. Just how many pieces had she lost?
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Korbin gave her an incredulous look. "How deep in the drink have you even been?" he blurted, unable to keep quiet. "Please tell me that you did not actually manage to remain oblivious about the attack on the Citadel too? Weaver opening the new bar at the end of Longheat is one thing to miss, but..." Korbin shook his head, and forced down a steadying breath. Should Ingrid really be served more to drink? Her memory seemed completely toasted, if she had been conscious enough to keep up with anything that went on.
He forced himself to calm down. "Neron was made Warden through a pact with the Eirachi. He was supposed to hand over his firstborn child, but tried to circumvent it by turning to The Voice and ascending. But apparently Zariah's son was her and Neron's child from... some other future? That part keeps tripping me up.
"At any rate, when she found out, Zariah went straight to the Eirachi and handed over the child. Probably to take power herself... but that backfired on her, after Eirachi avenged herself on our town and destroyed the Palace. When the people found out what happened, both she and Neron were removed from power."
His sister had taken over, and Morgan after her when the dragon claimed Weaver's life. It was a delicious piece of gossip, and Korbin was astounded that it hadn't reached Ingrid yet.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
