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!
After returning from his brief stint in the Hollowed Ground and taking care of some outstanding Council business, Loren had been mostly left to his own devices. The infirmary was completely deserted, seeing as most Halovians tended to treat all but the most serious injuries on their own (those that came back from the Tundra at all). So he'd grabbed some extra cloth, some wood, some paint, and a few other odds and ends to get started on a new tradition he'd heard about.
Although Ludo wasn't the healer's favorite deity, he figured anything he could do to get in its good graces would be good. At least this was easier than making the lanterns. After clearing off his workstation, he'd summoned three small monkeys to help him. One was cutting cloth into scraps to represent rags, one was sewing yet more cloth into a rough robe that the rags would be attached to, and the third was carving out one piece of wood as the Firebrand whittled the other. Astra watched the whole operation from her bed in the corner, chewing on some hay he'd put out for her.
She stops by the Citadel on her way from the Climb, the journey too much for a single stretch. Even though she dreads those she might encounter - she's managed to alienate most of Halo's council - Amalia has faith that she will be allowed to take some small shelter, at least. Besides, Loren had asked her to visit him after the debacle with the metal, and this may be her last opportunity for a while.
Jyoti draped across her neck, Amalia makes her way through the ice and snow toward the infirmary, where she's told she might find the Firebrand. Swallowing down her anxieties the Shield stops before the door, a hand hovering millimeters away from the thick wood. She could continue in relative anonymity, avoid this latest uncomfortable situation, but there's naught but cowardice in that route. Anxious that she may be, Amalia is Vi's, and a soldier of Vi cannot be afraid of something so slight as social interaction.
Right?
Swallowing again, the Shield pushes open the door, letting in a burst of chill air as she slips into the room. "Loren?" Amalia calls softly into the medical center, nose wrinkling at the all-too-familiar scent of cleaning products and medicinal herbs. "It's... it's me. Amalia."
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
As the familiar voice called out, Loren froze. Glancing up, he blinked as he saw Amalia standing there. Sitting there motionless for a moment, he eventually found his voice again even as fur rippled along his arms and frost spread from his hands where they rested on the table. "Amalia?" He swallowed, setting down the knife he'd been holding as he did.
Eyes flicking past her to the doorway beyond, he forced himself to take several deep breaths. "Come in." He stood up too fast, sending his chair skittering and scraping against the ground. Even as he slammed shut the Attuned bond between them, more words came to his lips, seeming to bypass his brain. "Hospitality and safety to you and yours while you're a guest in my home. Can I get you something to eat or drink?"
Astra rose from her spot in the corner. However, she made no move towards the Shield or Jyoti. Instead, the luxere trotted over to the healer and pressed against his legs, staring at the demigoddess with wide eyes. The monkeys had all paused in their work to swivel their heads to look as well. However, they resumed their carving, cutting, and sewing with a quick pulse of the Firebrand's magic.
Loren is surrounded by a small army of monkeys, who are carving sticks.
This alone is enough to have Amalia stopping, her expression flickering between disbelief and utter amusement, the apprehension melting away as she stares at the strange tableaux. It's only the Firebrand's formal greeting that brings her from her trance, the Shield blinking rapidly as she remembers where she is. "I, ah- sure. Yeah."
Now that the initial surprise is fading the dread anxiety rises again. The air in the room is tense enough to touch, Astra's unusual reticence and Loren's stiffness clear enough indicators of their feelings on the Shield. And she cannot fault him, to be fair, the memory of their last encounter and what a disaster it became causing him to wince. Shutting the door behind her Amalia enters the infirmary in full, though she remains awkwardly near the outskirts, back against a wall.
"It's just me. Well, us," the Shield says softly, nodding to Jyoti who has gone to investigate Astra. "I... I was passing through Halo and I wanted to see you. To apologize in person for... well. Y'know."
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
11-11-2020, 08:59 PM (This post was last modified: 11-11-2020, 09:00 PM by Loren.)
They say blood makes you related but
loyalty makes you family
Following Amalia's gaze to the monkeys, Loren shrugged. "They're summoned," he explained. Nodding as she agreed to his hospitality (well, kind of), he went to the small stove in the corner. Setting the kettle to heat and adding some tea leaves to the strainer to steep as it did, he moved on to the small cauldron over the hearth fire.
Grabbing a bowl, he ladled some of the stew simmering on the fire into it. It was nothing fancy, just hearty root vegetables in Ningo broth. Adding a spoon and a hunk of bread, he set it all in on the table and pointed at the chair, indicating the Shield should sit. "The breads not as good as you make, but it's what we've got." Of course, then Astra licked his palm, so he topped off the hay in the corner as well. The luxere bleated up at Jyoti before trotting to munch happily.
All the while, he was careful to keep his creatures in the corner of his eye. The monkeys making the robe like clothing moved on to a length of dark blue cloth. It began to sew little sparkles into it as the second monkey added the ragged cloth to the robe. The final monkey finished carving the wood and took out a small paintbrush. It dipped it in white paint and began splashing it on tot he round disc of wood.
Gesturing for the demigoddess to eat, the healer moved to lean against the wall by the stove. "Alright. Thanks for...telling me." He rubbed his palm up and down his thigh, frowning as she continued speaking. "Why are you apologizing?" Sighing, he shook his head, staring at the ground in front of him.
"Are you going to eat?" Amalia asks, moving towards the table, her body tense as lilac coils into the gold of her hair. The chair scrapes ominously upon the stone floor, a sound that makes her wince a little as she settles down into it, picking up the spoon. "I'll bring you some of mine next time," she promises, before taking a bite.
Loren doesn't sit, instead leaning against the wall: another ominous sign, she thinks, along with the silenced Attuned bond. Swallowing down her half-mouthful of food, the girl wonders if perhaps this was a mistake. She winces when her apology is met with cool aloofness, the spoon long since abandoned in favor of rubbing uneasily over her wrist.
"For the way it happened," the Shield answers at last, dark eyes downcast at the floor by his feet. Glancing up, she tries to meet the Firebrand's eyes, her expression solemn. "I shouldn't have involved anyone else. Everything got out of hand so quickly... and I'm sorry."
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
Hesitating for just a moment, Loren nodded. Moving back to the fire, he scooped some of the stew into a second bowl. Grabbing a spoon, he had a mouthful, although he wasn't particularly hungry. Returning to his spot by the stove, he raised his eyebrows as he chewed and swallowed. "Did you open a new bakery?" He took another bite of the stew.
The monkeys kept up their work. The painter finished with the white and moved on to black, making a dark pair of eyes and an equally dark set of eyebrows. The ones working with cloth finished with the sparkles, and moved to affix the length of cloth to the robe itself.
When she explained her apology, his shoulders relaxed and he let go of the death grip on their bond, though all she'd really get from him was a weird mix of confusion and guilt. "Ah. Apology accepted then. And I'm sorry too, again, for overreacting as I did." Clearing his throat, he stared into his bowl when she tried to meet his gaze. "Can I...can I ask why you brought them?" He bit his lip, keeping his eyes downcast.
"No, but you don't need a bakery to bake," she points out, pleased that he's sat down to eat alongside her. It makes it feel a little less awkward, despite the lingering tension in the room (and the strange little army of monkeys which continues diligently crafting away). The stew is good, and Amalia savors it, slowly swallowing down a bite as he accepts her apology at last.
And then there's the question, and it is the Shield's turn to go quiet and stare, looking in her bowl a moment as she gathers up her thoughts. "I was living with them," she answers at last, raising her eyes back up to Loren. "When I got your letter. And we were all- we needed a cure. Then they told Morgan, and it all got out of hand." A wry, mirthless smile pulls at her lips as she taps her spoon on the edge of the bowl. "We were all a little crazy for a while. I'm glad you're well now."
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
Nodding at Amalia's explanation, Loren dug into the stew. As he did, the monkey painting took out some red paint. It painted luscious, full, lips onto the wood.
Once that was done, all three monkeys grabbed some glue. They used it to affix the mask to the cloth, then stepped back. The healer examined their work. Smiling at it, he dismissed them with a mental flick. They disappeared, leaving the odd bundle of fabric and wood behind to dry and settle.
Looking back at the Shield, he chewed over her words (and over some bread he dipped into the stew). Finally, he inclined his head. "It's okay. I'm not upset or angry. We all made some mistakes, mostly me,but you're right, all's well." He let out a huff of laughter though it cut off as he examined her for signs of illness or injury. "You are well, right? I...didn't see you take the cure from the Voice."
She smiles as he forgives her, relaxing some of the tension that holds her shoulders tight. "I think you give yourself too much credit," the girl counters flatly, her smile a little warmer now. The expression grows serious at his question, Amalia looking away from Loren and towards the flickering fire. "I'm well- we finished the Old God's cure, thank Vi. It's why I'm in Halo, actually. On my way back from the Climb." The tension between their roles in the pair of cures hangs uncut in the air, but it isn't something Amalia particularly wants to broach now.
Instead she exhales a wry sigh, turning back to Loren with a tired smile. "Actually... I was hoping you could do me a favor. I have a task, from Frey, and I need a unicorn horn." Fully expecting some quip about her history of discomfort around the deity, Amalia raises a hand. "I met their Nature aspect. You were right - I misjudged them."
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
Letting out a huff of laughter at Amalia's comment, Loren shrugged. "Eh. It's usually mostly my fault, so it's always safest to assume that." He ate another spoonful of the stew, smiling as she explained she was cured. Chewing and swallowing, he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Did uh...anything go wrong? I got a well, a cryptic warning from Nate." His eyes flicked away from her as he mentioned the Ascended.
When she mentioned she had another reason for her visit, the healer raised his eyebrows at her. The kettle began to whistle, so he stood up to take it off the stove and pour them both mugs. Returning to the table, he slid hers across from her with a grin. "You're allowed to feel however you want about them. How and what you worship is no business of mine."
Opening a desk, he began to root through it. "What do you need the horn for? I'll spare asking you for help with my own task from them, since I don't think you want to discuss um..sex with me." Unable to find what he was looking for by touch alone, he glanced down, both to locate the horn and to avoid having to see her reaction.
"I got one too." The letter had been bizarre, to say the least, and fortunately Amalia had put little stock in the rambling of Nate. She shrugs at the question, swallowing down another bite of stew. "There was a guardian, but Tanau calmed it. Nobody was badly injured." Indeed, she'd borne the brunt of it and then some - which is how it should be, she thinks.
A snort leaves her at his grinned response. "You sang a different tune when you were sick," she counters wryly, remembering their conversation about the divided god with far more clarity than him, she is sure. Watching as he digs in a drawer for the horn, the girl hums thoughtfully, running her spoon around the dregs of stew. "You know the lightning storm, outside the Grounds? There were unicorns in it. I led them out, but I need a way to counter the lightning to get them back home."
Predictably her cheeks color a rosy pink at the suggestion they discuss sex. But if there's one thing living with Remi and Ronin has done for the Shield, it is limit her inhibitions. "Uh... what did you, um, need to talk about?" she asks, her voice a little strangled but the effort valiant nonetheless.
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
Nodding, Loren grinned at Amalia. "I'm glad it worked out then. And that the illness is behind us." He took a long sip of his tea, relaxing his mental guard a bit as he did. The guilt and worry had returned to the background of his mind, leaving just a wary contentedness in their wake.
Scratching the back of his head, he snorted. "I'm trying not to hold anything people did or said when they were out of their minds against them, myself included." Shaking his head, he bit his lip. "Sorry, though."
Finally finding the horn, he slid it across the table to her. "Yeah I know it. Went into myself, and Wessex brought up the unicorns." Pausing, he added, "And this will help you help them." It wasn't quite a question, but curiosity lurked in his eyes and voice.
His eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead. Staring at her, he blinked a few times before responding. "Uh...your best and worst orgasms and what made them bad or good." Now it was his turn to flush, though not because he was embarrassed about the subject. No, he was just pretty sure Amalia was going to make this incredibly awkward.
Yeah, okay, whatever newfound brazenness she's gained is thoroughly squashed by awkwardness as Loren explains what it is he needs. A flush as bright and hot as the fire spreads over her cheeks, crimson and warm as she immediately wishes she could turn back time to well before this conversation began.
Choking a little, Amalia's first response is to sputter and balk, staring down at her bowl and carefully avoiding Loren's eyes. When she finally collects herself it is to stutter, trying to find her voice and failing rather spectacularly. "I... um.... I see?" she murmurs, wondering if she might sink into the ground. "Is uh... what... how much, uh, detail would you need?"
she's just like the weather can't hold her together
