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!
Neron nods, a crooked sort of smile on his face. "Yeah, the feeling is reciprocated," he advises her. "I imagine it was to help encourage the Ascended to make use of their power. I imagine a lot of people who ascend don't really want to sink their teeth into other people. Strange, that." He uncaps another flask of cider, taking a sip of it and nearly choking at the hand that lands on his knee. He has never really been one for open affection, so even something as simple as this is enough to throw him off.
Still, he recovers without spilling any cider down himself, setting it back down and offering her a grateful nod. "That means a lot," he says softly, his voice low as if the words are only meant for Morgan. And it really is a good thing that she doesn't decide to mention that tidbit about Deepfrost, especially with the way she turns and offers up the pale column of her neck like that.
Clearing his throat, the Hailstorm turns his attention instead to what she's saying next. And honestly? It's a surprise and it isn't, and the fanged smirk he directs at her says as much. "I nearly made the previous owner of the Kraai into the spymaster," he remarks. "Is it ironic that you want to make the same choice?" His smile warms a bit, then. "I don't blame you, you know. That you have to keep this under wraps. I would too. Hopefully I can make you laugh even under cover."
"I suppose not. I always imagined that it was just attractive in of itself to Ascended." Perhaps those that had been brought into this world already Ascended, or those the Voice made from nothing (Morgan had only heard rumours, but the thought had stayed in her mind since). Thinking of the Ascended her mind travelled back, to when the concept had first come to her, reported from a guard who had been rattled from what he had heard at market. "When the portal opened and the Ascended first came to the Citadel, many of us thought they could not experience emotions. We heard they had no feeling...in their senses, but it was not entirely clear. Obviously, I now know that was not true."
That he choked at something so simple as a touch to the knee made her laugh and for now she removed her hand, thinking privately that if he was embarrassed by that, they had a long way to go. "Are you alright?"
It seemed all discussions came back to the business of running the Citadel, though this conversation was not entirely that; it was in some ways a gift, a show of trust fitting for their new, closer relationship. Morgan gave him a smile, sipping from her glass. "It is actually your time working there that has served you well in my eyes. It was good to see you were willing to humble yourself and work. I did, for a while, think you were quite vain." That probably wasn't a secret.
"Maybe...if this continues, we could at some point make it public, when the memories of your Wardenship are further behind us and international relations with Ascended aren't so complicated." She sighed, but determined not to let the world bog them down during this, she followed with: "I cannot begin to imagine the face Deimos will make when he finds out."
Neron snorts a bit at that, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure the lack of physical sensation makes us more emotional sometimes," he says with a wry smile. It certainly seemed to be that way for the Hailstorm - he has never been so invested in people before his ascension. He wonders, briefly, if that's another thing the Voice has caused with the alterations to his body. Either way, it's a musing for another time; he's much more interested in Morgan.
With a softer smile thrown her way, he nods the affirmative. "I'm quite alright," he assures her. "I just can't recall any time someone actually touched me, the way people touch each other." The easy and casual affection that wasn't driven by lust or a need to move him from A to B. It feels almost foreign to him currently.
At hearing her call him vain, he can't help but brighten again, straightening up in his seat and preening quite obviously at her. "I am," he tells her easily. "But even the most prideful of us know when to seize an opportunity that will be good for them." Which he plans to tonight, until talk of someone named Deimos throws ice water over his proverbial fire.
"Who?" he asks slowly, raising an eyebrow and trying (and failing) to appear casual.
"I see. I don't think I'd like that." Morgan had always valued being in control, both of her life and her feelings, her body, her Citadel; it had been partly why her attraction to Neron had bothered her so much at first. It had not been a part of the plan, not been something she deliberately chose; now that she had given into it, her mind was far more peaceful.
With his reassurance, she gently replaced the hand on his knee, just resting it there fondly. While it was likely a surprise to many, when Morgan had those she cared for close to her she was actually quite affectionate; she just didn't have many opportunities to show it. "I have to admit I'm surprised. I assumed, when you were Warden, that you were likely popular with women. After all, you're sufficiently charming." The words were complimentary, but the smirk on her face and the tone implied she might have been being a tad sarcastic.
The sudden switch from confident and flirty to ice cold was apparent as soon as Deimos' name entered the conversation and Morgan couldn't help but laugh, finding the idea of Neron being jealous of her General hilarious. "I suppose you were sick while it happened - he is our new General. I just meant he's quite prudish and he doesn't seem to like you."
"It takes a bit of getting used to," Neron agrees, the Ascended smirking and settling back into the seat as Morgan replaces her hand on his knee. It takes a moment, but he gently rests his own hand over hers, his palm neither too hot nor too cold, but it's as much of an affectionate gesture as he's shown since before he was Warden. To anyone, he thinks. And while it's a little awkward, at first, he soon relaxes into the easy contact.
Scoffing to Morgan, he slants a sufficiently charming grin in her direction (for good measure, of course). "Most don't really like to touch a man who is freezing cold," he points out, before realising she probably doesn't know that about him. "My deal with the Eirachi meant that I never felt warm. Since I Ascended I'm probably the most comfortable since I got to Halo."
The explanation about Deimos is both a balm and a thorn on Neron's suspicions, and he doesn't try to hide the childish sort of pout on his lips. "I don't believe I've ever met the man. Of course he doesn't like me." He snorts.
Looking over at Neron's hand on her own, after a moment Morgan turned her wrist beneath his, so that their palms faced, then interlacing their fingers. Perhaps she was being too forward with this (scandalous hand holding), but it had been a long time since she'd found anyone that connected with her in this way and she found herself eager to hold, to feel; to say that the Warden was starved of touch that was not violent would not be far from the truth.
"I wouldn't say you were freezing cold. Perhaps...chilly." That said, she had a very high tolerance for cold, with her experiences; maybe that meant she was well suited for him. "Do you warm up with a fire, or...something touching your skin?" Morgan asked, trying her best to make the last part sound more like a scientific curiosity than anything else. "I know you cannot get too close to the fire, but can you feel it's heat on your skin?"
She still found Neron's discovery (and subsequent dislike) of Deimos quite amusing and the smile on her face was obvious as she said: "I think it is partly to do with your family; he had a bad experience with Zariah. That, and I don't think he approves of your time as Warden. Maybe if you meet him you could change his mind."
Look at them go, holding hands like an everyday couple on a date, rather than an Ascended ex-Warden and his soldier successor. Loathe as he is to admit it, Neron is also touch-starved, and whilst he can't feel the intricacies of the warmth and caress of her fingers, he enjoys it thoroughly nonetheless. Sitting contently with their hands twined together, he considers Morgan's question with a hum of curiosity. "I understand the heat, but I don't feel it," he says slowly. "It's hard to explain. It's like this body registers what's happening, so I can do something about it. But warm isn't the same as it used to be."
Clearing his throat and realising he hasn't really answered the question, he grins across at her. "Physically though, yes - I do warm up." Too much, if he's set on fire - but that doesn't seem like the kind of dark humour they need tonight. He relaxes, by degrees, as she continues to explain about Deimos; an unfortunate run-in with his family is enough to put anyone off. "I daresay I am obligated to change his mind," he remarks, nudging her playfully. "Especially if he catches you sneaking out with me."
It was difficult to understand without having an Ascended body herself just what Neron meant, but Morgan nodded, trying her best to visualise it. Personally, she knew she'd never be able to make the change, no matter how appealing eternal youth could be; she valued her senses too much, her ability to judge the world around her, and enjoyed being independent of any God, Old or New.
If Neron said he could be content with it though, she wouldn't push him to say otherwise.
"Well, then I don't know what those women were complaining about." She responded with an equally amused grin, finding that she was relaxing the longer they sat, more able to joke and talk how she used to once, before her life and work required her to put up endless shields and walls. Speaking of Neron's Ascended senses and abilities, a question struck her, one that had much more to do with curiosity than jealousy, despite how it might appear. "How many people have you bitten?"
As for Deimos, she could only laugh. "If he finds out, you're dead, because it will absolutely not be because of me."
"My thoughts exactly," Neron says with a typically sly smile. "I wouldn't stay cold for long, and with all this charm and wit wrapped up in one handsome package?" He huffs. "Their loss, obviously. At least I finally found someone who can appreciate what a catch I am." He gives Morgan's hand a playful squeeze, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her palm.
Her question is something of a blindside for the Ascended, Neron blinking in surprise and glancing across at Morgan, as if trying to sense out the envy that he almost expects to be there in her voice. Still, he can't reasonably deny her, given his own obvious jealousy towards the General. "Three," he says, "including you." He doesn't give their names, though he will if she asks - it's not the sort of thing one offers freely, he feels.
Then she's laughing again and Neron scoffs, nudging his shoulder against hers. "Listen, I would be quite a diabolical spymaster if I couldn't even keep my own secrets, wouldn't I?"
"I don't know if I'd go that far." Morgan teased; her attraction to Neron was very much in spite of a lot of things; he was not what her dream date looked like, though as she'd gotten older she'd learnt that life would surprise and that relationships were best when worked at, that there was no such thing as love at first sight. With that said, there was still that slightly giddy rush in her chest as his finger stroked her palm, Morgan smiling down at their hands.
Three was somehow both more and less than she expected; Morgan nodded and didn't say anything else of it, instead going to take another piece of bread and eat it to make it clear she had little to say. Jealousy was never productive and she had little to be jealous of, anyway; from what she understood, some Ascended bit whoever came into their path; it was not an inherently intimate act.
It was good to laugh with Neron, better still that they could flow from serious to joking within moments; it was comfortable, and she rolled her eyes fondly as he nudged her shoulder. "So you've already taken on the title? Tell me, have you got your eyes on anyone in particular to be a spy?"
Neither of them are the other's dream date, but that's not really a conversation to have on a current date. Especially when they seem to have navigated out of awkward territory at last, the stars sprawling overhead and the Tundra illuminated by the snow and the moonlight. "Well, it would be rude to say no," he says of the Spymaster title (not that Morgan has even asked properly yet, in order for him to decline her offer). As for who he might have in mind for a spy? Neron's eyebrows raise, and he lowers his voice to something secretive.
"Why, Warden Aristomache. I couldn't possibly disclose that information, lest you become involved in something nefarious," he says. "We need to make sure you keep plausible deniability, after all." He winks. That, and Neron probably hasn't even really considered any candidates.
"Of course. Well, Spymaster, I look forward to working with you." Morgan nodded, her voice intentionally all profession and civility for a moment, though it was hard to keep it up with their hands together and the light smirk on her lips soon turned to a quiet laugh, especially as Neron acted so scandalised, insisting he couldn't possibly give names; she was well aware it was likely because he didn't have them yet.
After that she was quiet for a little, sipping from her drink, holding Neron's hand, just enjoying being there with him; it wasn't often she got to spend time with one person privately like this without business being in the way. Morgan looked across at him, squeezed his hand, nothing to say but happy to be there; it was beginning to grow dark outside, the light coming in moonlight more than the last embers of the evening.
"And I you, Warden," Neron murmurs in response, his voice feigning that professional courtesy, though the way they sit so close and the way their fingers twine together betrays the reality of it. And so it goes, with gentle conversation and flickering torches and a night growing steadily darker all around. They talk, and it comes and goes, drifting from topic to topic with lulls of comfortable silence in between.
And when it's too dark and too cold to remain any longer, Neron is of course a gentleman who walks his lady home. He leaves Morgan with a secret parting kiss to the back of her palm, waiting until she's safely sequestered away in the Palace again before returning to the Kraai, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
