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!
"I suppose." Loren sighed. However, then a slow grin spread across his lips. It turned into a full on smirk as he leaned forward and fixed Neron with an unwavering stare. "And I suppose that makes you head of the family. Does that mean congratulations are in order?" Letting out a huff of laughter, the younger twin toasted and threw back what was left of his drink as well.
Without looking up, he punched his brother in the upper arm. There wasn't much force behind it, though. "You stop that." Shifting from side to side, the Firebrand rolled the empty glass between his palms. "That and...serving as Grand Healer. But yes, I would..." Clearing his throat, he finished, "I would really like that."
Only then did he meet the Hailstorm's gaze. "How are ah, things between you and Morgan?" Loren found himself rubbing the back of his head with one hand and forced himself to settle down and sit still. However, his shoulders were hunched slightly and his body was tense.
Loren’s smile is all it takes to ignite suspicion in Neron’s bones, and the Hailstorm narrows his eyes right back at his brother as if expecting all of their good natured ribbing to drop away now. Because nice as it is (and it really, really is nice, to feel like he can rely on someone), there’s part of him that still believes it might be a ruse. Perhaps his twin feels the same way.
Oh, but then the Firebrand drops tat particular little bombshell, and Neron all but chokes on air he doesn’t breathe. ”How dare you,” he barks out through a laugh. ”More like commiserations are in order. When’s my funeral?” he inquires. ”I’ve changed my mind. I’m sure you were two minutes older, actually.”
He doesn’t see the punch coming, but Neron is still grinning even as he’s almost toppled from his perch on the arm of Loren’s seat. ”I’d like that too,” he says, sealing that away in a little box and changing the subject before either of them can ruin it.
How are things with he and Morgan, though? ”Well, sometimes I think she wants to punch me in the face. Other times I think we are friends. But she’s not exiling me, and she’s left the shrine in the Fangs open. So... good, for now?”
Laughing, Loren smirked at Neron. "I dare because I care." The healer shook his head, still chuckling. "You're immortal, remember? No funeral for you." Winking, he added, "Which means you'll be head of the family forever."
The laughter died away but the smile stayed. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear he ducked his head to hide the blush there. "To be fair, alternating between wanting to punch you in the face and being friendly with you describes our relationship pretty well as well." He couldn't resist elbowing his twin in the ribs.
"I'm glad to hear you two are getting along. Though I can't say I'm surprised." Grinning, the younger brother looked up at the Hailstorm. "If anyone could charm her and talk her into changing her mind about the Ascended it'd be you."
Neron wants to say it - he wants to say I might be immortal but that doesn’t mean I can’t die - but it doesn’t seem like the time or the place. Not in Weaver’s old apartment, not with all that has just happened up at this Climb place. Loren is looking for solace and has come to him scarred and sooty, and the least Neron can do is be a good brother and not rub salt in the wound.
”Then I suppose I had better get used to it. Maybe even learn to enjoy it,” he drawls, grinning and taking the elbow in the ribs with a good natured chuckle. ”Listen, you haven’t punched me yet and I’m taking that as a compliment,” he fires back, sighing and ruffling a hand through his fair hair. ”Oh, I don’t know if I’ve changed her mind about all of us. I’m just taking things a day at a time right now.”
Nudging Loren back, he nods at his brother’s hands. ”You got time for a practice shift right now? Take your mind off everything else?”
Smiling, Loren reached up to stretch out his neck. "You always seem to land on your feet in the end. I'm sure you're figure this out." The smile widened into a smirk. "And you know, I know it's tough for you but you can always ask for help."
Releasing his neck he moved on to massaging his shoulder. Snorting, he narrowed his eyes at Neron. "I just punched you in the arm. Don't make me do it again." The younger twin balled up his free hand and feinted at his brother's upper arm.
Shrugging, the Firebrand rubbed his temples. "Progress is progress." Sighing, he sank down deeper into the chair.
Nodding, he plucked at his clothes which were in tatters. "Can do. I've poured enough drinks for myself that I can do it just fine for strangers." Standing up, he looked around. "Should probably wash up and change. Don't wanna scare the customers more than I already will."
”Ask for help?” Neron pulls a face, though his smile is all in his steel blue eyes. ”And how am I supposed to land on my feet in a devilishly handsome display of guile if I have help?” He sets the empty glass down on a nearby table. ”I’ll consider it,” he says, though he makes sure he’s absolutely not facing his twin when he does. Feigning offence and injury at the invisible jab at his arm, he rises to his feet alongside Loren and raises a brow at his tattered clothes.
The expression on his face is all duke, though he does let out an exaggerated sigh and nods through a door. ”There’s a wardrobe in there. You can borrow some of my clothes.” They’re all black, and the Launceleyn twins really will look just like that if Loren does, but the offer is there. ”I’m far scarier than you, and they like me well enough. To my face, anyway - I think it’s got something to do with pouring drinks.”
He meanders towards the stairs down. ”Want me to wait for you? Or shall I see you down there?”
Grinning, Loren narrowed his eyes. "Why because then you can declare how masterfully you manipulated us into doing your bidding." Letting out a huff of laughter, he set his own glass down.
Nodding, he smiled. "Thanks." Standing up, his smile deepened into a smirk. "That's just because they haven't seen me turn into a lion yet." Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I should really figure out that shift. And whatever new magic I can sense within me." His brow furrowed and he bit his lip.
Snorting he shook his head. "I know I'm younger but I'm pretty sure I can dress myself. I'll see you downstairs." With that he headed towards the room Neron had indicated. The healer looked as if he were dragging himself over to it.
09-06-2020, 04:01 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2020, 04:01 PM by Neron.)
neron
”Ooh, that’s a frightfully good point.” Neron winks, his smile the best sort of crooked. ”I shall bear that in mind, the next time I feel in over my head. For now, though? Brother, let’s pour pints.” He lingers at the top of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder to see if Loren really will be alright. And what the Firebrand says and what he does are totally at odds with one another, but they are not yet so peachy with one another that Neron will follow.
So he starts off down the stairs, calling over his shoulder. ”Lions are banned in the bar. But perhaps we can test out your new magic in the Academy, one of these days.” Right about the same time as Neron approaches his apparent ‘son’. He leaves Loren to it, giving him all the time he needs to wash up and change. The Kraai, after all, will only get busier.
