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!
Snow. There was a lot of it. The residents of Halo seemed well practised in the constant motion of clearing the snows, in making the route from the Citadel to the portal as easy to traverse as possible (though it was still a difficult trek, one that Chuy much preferred to travel by wing instead).
But not everyone had access to wings, to the joy of flight. And he was ever determined to serve, to contribute, to do whatever he could to assist.
As the season wore on, the snows seemed to lessen, if only slightly to his perception, it did shift, and melt, a move. While the storms that blew through during Flowerbirth were nothing compared to the whitewash that was Deepfrost, they still dumped enough snow across the entrance to the Citadel that it required human intervention to move. With few Abandoned with water manipulation abilities on hand, he went the traditional route - sourcing a broad shovel and his ever-present optimism, he arrived to contribute to the task at hand.
--
Open SE clearing snow away from the Citadel gate and wall!
Snow indeed. The guard was on duty, and sometimes that duty meant moving snow.
Fortunately, he was one of a few who possessed the magic that would help with ushering the snow out of the way, meaning less shovelling, less sweating, less risk of injury and fatigue. Still, some shovelling would be needed.
"Chief," he nodded to the man who came to attend, green eyes narrowing slightly. He liked the Warden's choice for the position well enough, but would always be overly critical of Outlanders and their well, outlandish ideas.
Howard kept working, not letting his concentration falter for long, but needing regular breaks all the same - he had nowhere near the skill level that their Warden had, after all.
"Howard," he responded, turning to face the man, his tones playfully admonishing the guard. "Please call me Chuy." He had never been one for titles or ranks, not in an everyday sense anyway. He knew they had their purpose - people needed structure to follow, to keep chaos at bay, to ultimately survive.
But in this situation, moving snow, side by side? Rank wasn't necessary. Besides, he was hardly here in his capacity as Chief of Agriculture - he was here as Chuy, as a willing helper in this predicament that affected them all.
He watched with mild fascination as the mage worked, a small smile tilting his lips, before following up the areas Howard's magic missed. Physical labour used to be something he had not often needed to engage in, outside of farm work (and even then, driving machinery wasn't as laborious), but since coming here, he'd found his fitness level rising, and his body changing to suit it too.
"How often do the storms blow through this big during Flowerbirth?" he asked by way of making conversation.
"Sure thing, Chief." And with that, Howard would forever call the man Chief, even if the time came that the man no longer held the position. Beneath his red moustache was a small smile, as he chuckled to himself - he'd have to get a few more of the guards in on it, just to rile the other man up (though he was annoyingly un-rile-up-able).
Then his focus went to the work at hand, his own broad hands spread palm-down before him as he murmured low words. They weren't incantations in a literal sense, more a way that helped him to find the path to the magic within him, a training technique he'd learned in his time as a soldier. The snow shifted, some dissolving, some shifting, depending on its density and location.
Chuy's question during one of their many breaks was met with a sardonic sort of glance. "Often enough," he almost grunted in reply, before huffing a breath. "About every ten days or so we'll get one that needs this kind of attention."
Chief? Honestly, Chuy would be annoyed if he hadn't been raised in a land where giving a friend a nickname, particularly a nickname that always slightly irritated said friend, wasn't some emotionally repressed way of showing affection. The Aussie chuckled, shaking his head, searching Howard's face for any kind of hint malice or contempt - but it would seem he had built up enough rapport with the guard to earn this title. And so he would quietly accept it, and play the annoyed, unwilling recipient of said name whenever it came up.
Every ten days. Chuy nodded, a bit of guilt rising up in him as he reflected on how many he had helped with this season so far - he was stretched between here and the Grounds, between needing to follow his heart and needing to attend to his duty. He'd found a sort of balance, a way of being in both places, but he knew it was never going to be a permanent thing. "Do you find many from the other regions willing to help?" He was curious, more than anything, wondering if now that the portal was free from the weather, Halo became a tourist destination of sorts?
The man's absence had been noted, but also understood, at least by Howard. The man himself had a wife and children at home, and he'd do anything for them, including stretching himself across two regions of vastly different climates if it meant spending as much time as he could with her. As it was, guard duty shifts often meant days and nights missing them, but he worked to protect the very city they lived in, and so he worked to protect them, even as he came home to find them already sleep many cold nights.
Still, he judged the other man for his absences. But he also judged him for his presence. He was here now, and at other important times, usually. Time would tell if this Chief of Agriculture was all he was talked up to me.
A snort rolled through his nose, the sound harsh, the bark of laughter that followed it harsher still, containing little humour. "Oh, they come, they look, they spend a day out on the Tundra thinking themselves quite the survivor, before they toddle on back through the portal to their farms and beaches." It clearly wasn't the first time such an observation had been made. "To answer you, no, not many stay to help."
He couldn't really say he was surprised at the guard's summary of how those from other regions behaved, though he was a little bit disappointed. That the Natural's perception of 'outsiders' was so grim was something Chuy hoped to help with, but it would take more than just him to achieve it. It would take a culture change, and not just from the residents of Halo – from the residents of Caido, really.
Perhaps he was just too hopeful. Too naïve, too foolish, to ever dream that the entire nation could be united on one front - one for all, all for one.
He nodded in response, for the time being. “I suppose they have lives to live as well.” He wasn’t meaning to defend the behaviour, but he had to concede that there was a whole big world out there in Caido, each region with its own challenges and needs. He leaned back into the shovel, making to return to work, having caught his breath, and seeing Howard do the same.
It was a pleasant enough morning. The gates were cleared by midmorning and his help was no longer needed. With a nod and a wave to Howard, he left the guards to their duty, returning to his own plans in the Citadel proper without further ado.
