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!
Although Loren knew that Neron had taken over the Kraai, the younger twin hadn't made much time to actually see the elder, seeing as Loren needed some time to lick his wounds in private after everything that happened over Deepfrost. Now, when he was streaked with soot and singed by fire, scarred, and looking gaunt and pale, probably wasn't the best time to rectify that. But he needed somewhere to process, and it was past time the brothers spoke.
So the healer staggered over to the tavern. Peering inside, he frowned when he saw how crowded it was. Quickly schooling his features into a neutral mask, he marched up to the bar and tapped on it, hoping to get the Hailstorm's attention.
Studiously ignoring the curious and concerned looks he was getting (even the ones from Astra, who'd trotted in behind him), the healer just stood tall. The way his fingers twisted around the scarred flesh of his hands belied the anxiety roiling just beneath, though.
The Kraai is busy and so is Neron. Customers wait, even if he knows them, with the exception of the good Warden. And family. And you know, there hasn’t been any family to visit in a long while, until tonight. His steel blue eyes catch his brother from the other end of the bar, Neron offering a typically charming smile to the woman he’s serving. Once he’s finished, a sharp whistle towards the tables brings another bartender to take his place, and he sweeps down to where Loren is standing.
”You,” he says, ”look as though you need a stiff drink. Would you like to sit here, or somewhere more private?” His eyes dance along the scars on his twin’s hands, on his face, the Hailstorm seemingly making the decision for them both. He grabs a bottle of something (vodka, it looks like) and two glasses, stepping out from behind the bar and beckoning for Loren to follow.
"I need a wash first." Giving Neron a grateful smile, one that pulled on the scars on Loren's cheek, the healer's eyes flicked around the Kraai. Opening his mouth, he closed it as he saw that his twin was already gesturing for the younger brother to follow.
That didn't stop him from lowering his voice and responding in a whisper that would hopefully only carry to his twin's ears. "Private. I have news you should probably hear." Following Neron behind the bar, Loren felt tension begin to ease out of him as they headed into the private parts of the tavern.
However, he found his expression and tone growing guilty. Still whispering, he spoke in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry for not being around more. I needed some time to...clear my head."
”A wash and a stiff drink,” Neron corrects with a nod, leading Loren out the back and upstairs to where there was more of a living space. It was Korbin’s, technically, but he used it. And he hadn’t gotten any backlash from it yet. Nodding towards the bathroom, he lets Loren head in so he can slouch against the doorframe and still talk with his brother, all the while opening the bottle to pour them both a drink.
”Loren, I ran from my problems, became Ascended and called the wrath of a goddess down upon the Citadel. You going AWOL for a little bit is hardly something I can complain about. And nor would I.” He smirks over the rim of his glass tumbler, sipping at the clear liquid. ”What news do you have? And what happened to your hands, your face?”
The living space caused Loren's features to tighten with pain and grief for a moment. However, he immediately schooled his features into a neutral mask. As Neron went to pour them drinks, the younger twin spotted a washbasin and a cloth. Heading towards it, he waved a hand over it, filling it with lukewarm water.
Dipping the cloth inside, he began wiping the blood, sweat, soot, and grime from his skin. His motions stopped for just a moment at his older brother's words. "I've got a bad precedent on that particular front, though." Smiling sadly, the Firebrand shook his head. "So you complaining about it might stop me from retreating from the world next time."
He resumed cleaning off as best he could. "I stuck my hands into Eirachi's brother, who happened to be on fire at the time, and removed an object that had been keeping him bound." Lifting his gaze, he met Neron's eyes squarely, wondering how the Hailstorm would take that admittedly dramatic recounting of events.
”It’s true - it’s almost your modus operandi at this point,” Neron murmurs, pausing to take another drink and humming at the non-existent burn of the liquid. Setting the tumbler down, he pours his brother an equal measure, setting it on the countertop next the basin for him for when he’s done. ”Very well then - as a gift to you, I’ll be sure to make a fuss the next time you try to sneak off under a rock.”
But that didn’t get him any closer to knowing what had happened. Loren’s blunt explanation did, however, and the Hailstorm raises his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. ”But of course you did. You couldn’t simply go and hide from the world in a stupor for a bit, right?” The teasing is good natured, Neron slowly shaking his head. ”Still, you lived to tell the tale. That’s impressive - I hope father is spinning in his grave at the thought of it.”
As Neron agreed with Loren about his bad habits, he let out a huff of laughter. "Calling it my modus operandi gives me far too much credit. I run like a scared little kid." Despite the joking tone to his voice, there was something sad lurking in his eyes.
Finishing cleaning himself off as best he could under the circumstances, he took the glass. Giving his brother a thankful nod, the younger twin toasted. "Much appreciated." Only then did he sip gingerly from it.
"You know me. I always have to do things in the most dramatic way possible." After that light bit of teasing, sighed "I was on my way to the Hollowed Ground to see if they needed any help after LongNight. And to get news of the world outside Halo. It's not like I planned any of this." Hearing how defensive he was becoming, he forced himself to take a deep breath and another drink from the glass.
Laughing again, he shook his head. "We don't know that he's dead. Maybe he just got transported to another part of the world, one we haven't discovered yet." The words left a bad taste in his mouth, and he felt his lips twist in something akin to disgust.
Lifting his eyes from the cup he held, he met the Hailstorm's gaze. "I take it you didn't know about the Eirachi having siblings?" There was something tentative about the Firebrand's voice. However, he didn't exactly sound hopeful about Neron shedding light on the situation.
”And I used to sleep until noon and run from the sight of anything that looked like hard work. I changed - so can you.” Neron winks over the rim of his glass. Has he changed? Yes and no. Is it close enough for the analogy? Yes, it will do. Toasting his brother in return, he waits for Loren to clean himself up enough before leading them back out of the bathroom. Neron leans against the back of a chair, not particularly wanting to get himself too comfortable on the basis of what Loren has said so far.
”Drama runs in the family,” he says in his twin’s defence, winking at him. ”And I’m reasonably sure that Father’s heart ceased to beat before we were dropped into his place. If he has managed to cure himself of death and swan his way into Caido, he may actually impress me.” Unlikely, but there was always a chance.
Squeezing the glass, his humour drops away and he shakes his head at the question. ”No, I didn’t,” he admits. ”Wessex didn’t say anything, put it that way.”
As Neron spoke encouragingly Loren gave his twin a feigned suspicious look. "You're right. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Loren was teasing. Mostly. Still, the younger brother couldn't help the grateful and oddly pleased expression from creeping across his features.
"But you're right." He toasted again. "To change. Hard as it's been on us." With that, he took a long drink from the glass and hummed approvingly.
Following the Hailstorm out of the bathroom, the Firebrand laughed. "True. Your drama was usually rewarded though. Mine? Not so much." Not at all bothered by that, he flopped into a chair opposite the one Neron was leaning on. "People have been returned from the dead in Caido. More than once." Loren shook his head, trying to banish the thought of their father among the living once more.
Sighing, the healer nodded at his brother's words. "I figured." The Firebrand's expression grew thoughtful. "Given Eirachi is the...spirit? The goddess? The whatever of Deepfrost, I take it her siblings correspond to the other seasons." Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed. "Which begs the question: where are the other two?"
”Your brother must have stayed behind, married Zariah and had a son,” Neron mutters, a smirk curling at one corner of his mouth. ”This one is here, though, and he’s running quite the successful tavern, if I do say so myself.” Even if there was already talk of something else creeping up to get under their skin. Gods and monsters, Caido was full of them. Neron has rolled with those punches, and he’s railed against them. Neither works, he has found.
Raising his glass in a hear, hear gesture, he grins and takes a healthy sip of the vodka, not that it does much. ”You never know, one day your drama might be rewarded. Judging by the state of you right now, however, I doubt that.” Scarred and burned and covered in soot and blood - Loren does not look the picture of returning hero.
He considers his twin’s questions with a swirl of the alcohol in his glass, catching the patterns that dance on the surface with the light. ”Well,” he says slowly. ”If the Climb is as hellish and deserted as they say, it’s no wonder that this Tanau didn’t show his face much. Eirachi can play with us here - I imagine that’s why she’s so active. Either the others are in places we don’t know about yet, or they’re keeping a low profile. Perhaps they don’t care for mortals?”
Making a face at Neron Loren sighed. "Don't even joke about that. And you do say so yourself." Then a grin briefly flashed across his lips. "I'll say it too though. Well done." He toasted again and took a sip from the alcohol. It slid down his throat with a merry and welcome burn.
Then he paused and started shifting positions in his chair, not settling in any one pose. "On the subject of...what uh, happened with um, the family while I was...indisposed?" He took a long gulp from his drink. Setting the glass down, he rubbed his palms against his thighs as he waited for the answer.
He shook his head. "When has life ever rewarded me for anything I've done, good or bad," he drawled. Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged. "I've had worse. But at least things are looking up for one of us." He leaned forward to clink his glass against his brother's.
Leaning back, he let his back thump against his seat. "I've yet to meet a god or spirit who did." Then the corners of the younger twin's lips twitched. "Or maybe it's just me." He huffed out a laugh, shooting another quick smile at the Hailstorm though this one faded quickly.
Neron’s lips part in an O of exaggerated shock, as if receiving honest praise from his brother is a rare thing indeed. And it was, once, but... well, fuck it. He and Loren are trying to be better, and so far so good and all that. Which is why, when he asks about the family, the Hailstorm swallows his initial remarks about Loren’s lack-of-a-last-name. Instead he stares down into his glass, eyes narrowing a fraction.
”Zariah is dead,” he says slowly. ”She went out into the Tundra and never came back.” His tone never grows emotional, possibility because the tangle of feelings is too complex. ”Beatrix is Beatrix. I have heard rumours about Jace returning, as an adult no less... but I haven’t tried to confirm anything.”
Neron clinks his glass against his brother’s, scoffing and resisting the urge to give him a shove for his trouble. That’s what brothers did, right? Playfully fought and whatnot? ”You know, there’s a job here for you if you want it. Maybe we can make things look up for you, too. Though I can’t do much for spirits, unless they’re the alcoholic kind.”
Grinning at Neron's expression, Loren winked. Then he took another sip from his drink. As his brother explained the developments, the healer frowned. "That's what I heard too." Sighing, he toyed with the glass.
Meeting the Hailstorm's gaze at the offer of employment, the Firebrand opened his mouth. However, no words came out. Closing his mouth, he looked down and away. "Part-time, maybe?" Stammering, he waved his hands in the air. "I mean, I would, I'd really like that I just, I um, planned to return to healing too." Pinching the bridge of his nose he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
”I suppose those sorts of rumours are worth investigating,” he says softly, considering his drink for a moment longer before knocking the rest back in one. Quite what he’ll do if he finds himself face to face with a son he never made (not personally, anyway) is something he can’t say for certain. Zariah had spoken about sacrificing the boy, and he’d been fiercely against that. But beyond it? Who knew?
Work was a much easier topic, Neron straightening up and moving to perch on the arm of Loren’s seat, rolling his empty glass between long fingers. He laughs - it’s like Loren has admitted a dirty secret, wanting to heal again - and shrugs his shoulders. ”Tell you what, then. We’ll keep it casual. If it gets busy, I’ll call on you for an evening or two a week. No strings, just come and go as you please. What are you planning to do? Open your school again?”
