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!
Loren was packing his meager belongings. It didn't take much: one bag for the assortment of magical items he'd somehow accumulated and another for everything else. Clothes, toiletries, his journals all got tossed in without a care for efficiency or wrinkles.
From her bed in the corner, Astra watched him. He could feel her concern shivering through their bond. Sighing, he went over to her and stroked her fur for a few minutes.
She wasn't reassured, but she did settle down. Standing up, he went back to the bed where the bags lay. He was almost done. One of the perks of moving repeatedly was that he knew what to bring and what he could replace. And one of the perks of having his last two homes destroyed was that he just didn't have that many things. Just the necessities.
Neron leans against the doorframe to watch his brother, steel blue eyes flicking from the packed belongings to Astra in the corner, and finally to Loren. "You would have thought that you would at least remember how to pack your shirts so that they don't wrinkle." It's precisely why Neron uses a suitcase rather than a bag, though of course none of that has been necessary for him. He hasn't moved from Halo since he arrived.
The Hailstorm looks like a new man since receiving the Voice's cure, his clothes clean and pressed, his hair annoyingly tousled in a way that looks careless but almost certainly isn't, though there's a tension to his posture that suggests he isn't here for a cordial visit. "Where will you be going?" he wants to know, sparing the whys for now. However quickly Loren might want to leave, Neron will make time for this.
As Neron spoke up behind Loren he stiffened. Glancing over his shoulder, he shook his head. Turning to face his twin, the healer looked down, scuffing at the ground with the toe of his boot. "My clothes are just going to get dirty before too long anyway." He grabbed a shirt, which was brown and entirely serviceable, totally boring compared to the Hailstorm's garb, and waved it in the air before tossing it into the bag.
Taking a deep breath, the Firebrand lifted his head and finally met his brother's gaze. "I'm going to the Hollowed Ground for a few days to clear my head before coming back." Hesitating, Loren added in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "I fucked up. I'm sorry."
If always all in black counts as interesting or glamorous to Loren, his wardrobe really does need changing up. Still, it's with almost a look of pain that Neron watches him toss the shirt into the bag. He has to prevent himself from swatting his twin away to fix it, reminding himself that his brother knows perfectly well how to do so if he is so inclined. And clearly, he is not inclined. "I see," he says slowly; about the clothes, about the Hollowed Grounds, about it all.
The apology is unexpected and has Neron's steely gaze dropping to the ground, the Hailstorm a carefully closed book compared to the general openness and joviality he's shown around Loren since his stepping down as Warden. "You were going to leave me sick," he says softly. "Why? I could understand it, if I were able to stomach that water from those springs. But I don't understand this."
Watching the frustration on Neron's face, Loren rolled his eyes. Picking up the bag, he upended the clothes onto his bed. He started to fold them almost painstakingly slowly, meeting his twin's gaze the whole while.
However the healer paused when the Hailstorm asked the question that the Firebrand didn't have a better answer for. Sighing, he finished the pair of pants and packed it away before responding. "Does it matter?" Rubbing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I had already found a cure that I had hoped would work on the Ascended. On everyone. I just...I wanted to test that first." He took a deep breath. "And if it didn't work I was always planning to give the metal to the Voice." Dropping his hand, he looked down, shoulders slumping.
Despite the undoubtedly serious nature of the conversation they are about to have, Neron can't stop the catlike smile from creeping across his face as he watches Loren start to reorganise his clothes. He doesn't break his stare either, eyebrows raising ever so slightly as if to ask him if he's going to do all of this without actually looking at what he's doing. He'd not be surprised, honestly, and he's even got confidence that Loren can manage the whole bag like this.
"It matters to me." Still Neron doesn't look away from his twin. "...Why? If you had that metal for so long, why was the other cure worth more than that? It's all good for you - you were able to drink the spring water. But that sort of makes it worse... you were willing to hedge your bets, to test it out, while people were sick?" He shakes his head. "That isn't how a healer acts."
Loren didn't look at his hands, though he had stopped folding by the time they were speaking. Fingers tightening for a moment on the pants he held at Neron's first statement, the healer forced himself to smooth out the wrinkles. "I know. I know you were suffering, and it was killing me." Tears sprang to his eyes but he refused to let them fall.
"But...I didn't trust the Voice not to use the metal for something that would hurt people down the road. Okay? Not after what she's done in the past. And that would be on me. So I thought, let's try the other option first, even though..." Voice trailing off, he closed his eyes.
Neron hates that he can see where his brother is coming from, having held the reins of leadership for long enough to know what it's like, to think of the whole rather than just oneself. He's come a long way, from the selfish lawyer of Northaven. And he supposes that Loren has given up the brand of Launceleyn, so killing him or no, Neron ought not to have expected family to take precedence. "I see," he says slowly.
"...Well, I hope that should you find yourself in the same position, you'll act more quickly. The Voice hasn't hurt anyone so far with this cure." His brow furrows suddenly, however, the Hailstorm tilting his head at his twin. "What made you hand over the metal in the end?" he asks, not knowing how to justify his brother's sudden change of heart.
Sighing, Loren finally looked down at his clothes again, unable to meet Neron's gaze any longer. "I will." The healer's response came out barely above a whisper, but it was a promise he'd already made to multiple people, and he owed his brother at least that much.
At the Hailstorm's question, though, the Firebrand ran a hand through his hair. "Morgan, Remi, Ronin, and Amalia came to see me. They informed me that the majority of people wanted me to give the metal to the Voice. Since I mostly agreed with them anyway, I did." Falling silent, he took a deep breath. There was more to the story than that, but it didn't really matter, at least in his mind.
"Good." Neron rides the word out on a sigh, and despite himself he relaxes to hear it. He didn't expect to find himself in this sort of position (feeling relieved that Loren is going to be honest with him, that is), and he doesn't know what to do with it. So he leaves it there, hanging on that single word, and pays more attention to the rest of what his twin has to say. And Neron is no mind reader, so he honestly doesn't know what else there might be to his story.
"I wish you had told me," he mutters, unable to keep the disappointment or the mild betrayal out of his voice. Clearing his throat, he straights back up from the door again and runs his fingers through his hair in an unconscious echo of Loren's gesture. "So you said you'll be leaving for the Hollowed Grounds? I... will you be leaving the council, then?"
Returning to his packing, Loren just nodded at Neron's sighed response. The healer turned to face his packing so he didn't have to look at his brother and see the betrayal on the elder twin's features. However, the Firebrand stiffened at the next words out of the Hailstorm's mouth.
Still looking away, Loren pinched his nose. "I should have. I'm sorry I didn't, it's just...you were sick." Bowing his head, he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the bed without really seeing it. "No. I'm still Grand Healer so long as I don't pull a stunt like this again. I just...needed a few days to cool off." He shrugged, resting a hand on his mostly full pack.
Neron hates to admit it, but gods damn it his twin is right. He steps into the room at last, swatting Loren away from the packing so he can take over with a great deal more efficiency (and grace about it, if he's being honest and absolutely biased). That in itself ought to be an indication that they are back on better terms, if Neron is giving his brother hassle about his ability to still be a duke even after years without it. "I was sick," he agrees with a gentle nod. "At least neither of us are anymore. You came through in the end."
He glances back at the Firebrand to hear that he's still on the council with Morgan, smiling a bit, and if he's relieved that his brother will still be living in Halo on a permanent basis, he does his best not to show it. "Well, then. I hope you thoroughly enjoy your cooling off period. I'd make a joke about Halo already being the coolest place around, both temperature and otherwise, but I'll spare you."
Closing the pack at last, Neron steps back. "Want to get a drink with me, before you go?"
Seeing as Loren's back was to Neron, the healer was totally unprepared for his older brother to swat the Firebrand aside. Stepping away, he watched the Hailstorm for a moment. Then Loren moved onto a smaller bag with some treats for Astra. "I guess I did," he replied with a sigh.
Chuckling dutifully at Neron's not a joke, the healer shrugged. "I seem to land in hot water no matter how cold the temperature." It was his obligatory terrible joke in response. He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.
Head snapping up at his brother's offer, the Firebrand's jaw dropped. "You want to get a drink with me?" Rubbing the back of his head, he looked down, scuffing at the floor a bit. "Uh, sure. I mean, yes I'd like that." His cheeks flushed a bit and it definitely wasn't from the cold.
11-01-2020, 03:41 PM (This post was last modified: 11-01-2020, 03:42 PM by Neron.)
Neron
the wind breathes lonely longing to be seen
"It's true - your talents in that arena are unchallenged in this family. Well, by blood rather than name." Because of course Loren is not a Launceleyn any more, something that Neron has to remind himself about a remarkable amount. Finishing the pack and withdrawing to let Loren finish up with Astra's treats, the Hailstorm glances momentarily at the little luxere, raising an eyebrow as if only having really noticed her properly for the first time just now. "She's just like our sister," he remarks. "Stupid ray of sunshine."
Smiling softly, he heads for the door again and glances over his shoulder at his twin, suddenly blushing and bumbling and awkward. "Loren," he drawls, the hints of a smirk on his face, "don't make this weird, yeah? It's already strange enough." Beckoning him away, Neron heads downstairs so he might get them both something to drink. To toast being healthy again, and to toast a safe trip for his brother.
