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!
The meeting had gone well, in Morgan's mind. The discussion had been had out in the open, she hoped it had been fair, but ultimately it seemed the people of the Citadel agreed with her, for the most part. Neutrality would be a difficult road to follow, that much she knew, but she had never turned her head from something because it wasn't easy. Already. the Warden's mind was full of plans and ideas, drafts of letters she might send.
She'd asked Neron to come to her room whenever he had done his duties for the day (most of which she was content not knowing about, unless he had something to tell her - it was never good to know too many shady secrets). While the general conclusion of the meeting had been positive, it had unearthed some worries in her mind that would not simply wash away.
When he arrived she would be sat on the chair before the small desk in her room, tapping her forehead with the end of the pen she was using to write a draft of the first letter. Dressed in what passed in Halo for pajamas and with her hair tied back except for one strand left to hang over her face, Morgan looked somehow younger than she was. "Ah. Hello." She paused. Even after all their time together, somehow she struggled with not being too formal. She tried out a smile. "Are you well? The meeting was a step in the right direction, I think."
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
Neron's duties for the day consist of making sure the Kraai is stocked up and that the bar is in a good position to support the great amount of booze liable to flow from its taps that evening. Okay, and maybe there are a few shady meetings here, a few bribes changing hands there, but it's all in the name of his job, so he figures that will be cool with Morgan. Regardless, it's not likely to be the subject of conversation when he appears in her doorway like a ghost, unbuttoning his dark coat and unlooping his scarf from around his neck.
"Mm, nothing like dancing along the line of being kicked out of your city - again," he says of the meeting, though there's a smile curling at his lips as he hangs up his coat and crosses the room to lean down and press a gentle kiss against her lips. "Who is this letter for?" he wonders, imagining that they will all say pretty much the same thing, if not being sent to different places.
"Ha. You know I wouldn't let you go alone. Even if they did vote for the Ascended to go, I would go with you." To where exactly, she had no idea, but Morgan knew she would not be able to lead a Citadel biased against the Ascended, so she would have nowhere to go but with Neron in that case anyway. "But I believe in our people. I think we've turned a corner, of sorts."
She closed her eyes and gently placed a hand on his arm as they kissed, a smile on her lips when they parted. "Oh, it's a draft of a letter to...Maeve, is it, the Queen of Torchline? They change leaders so often it's hard to keep track." The letter was messy, with crossed out lines and small edits scribbled in over the main words. "I'll write a neater one later. I just need to work out what to say. The trouble is in making it clear we will be neutral without making it sound as if we resent them for choosing a side."
Morgan put down her pen and leaned back in the chair, leaving the task for the morning. "I did ask you to come for a reason. ...More reason than usual, anyway." Warm brown eyes looking sideways at Neron, she took a breath. "I wanted to ask you. I could assume an answer, but it feels as if I should have it from you directly. If the Ascended are fighting their war, say in the Grounds, would you feel compelled to go fight?"
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"You are too sweet," Neron all but purrs to hear that Morgan would come along with him, and he offers her a warmer smile. "Mm, I believe so as well. It was nice to hear calls for neutrality rather than calls to throw Ascended out of Halo." More than nice but it's all he'll say about it for now. Examining the letter over her shoulder and nodding absent agreement regarding Torchline's flaky leadership, the Hailstorm eventually straightens and leans back against her desk so they can talk. "Perhaps you can accompany the letters with a gift basket," he suggests, amusement gleaming in his eyes.
Of course she called him there for a reason, though. Morgan does nothing by accident, and that's what he appreciates about her, honestly. And as she gets to the root of the matter, he's absently reaching out to twine his fingers through her curls. "...Yes, but not for the reason you might think," he says slowly, meeting her gaze.
"The Longnight before last, all of the Ascended agreed to go and fight in the Hollowed Grounds, if you remember. I know we went willingly, but apparently all the Ascended were whisked away from wherever they were situated. We were all present, we all had to fight." Hopefully he sees where she's going with this. "There's nothing to say that won't happen again. I would prefer to be in control of going to defend the Grounds than to find myself there without preparation."
Morgan laughed a little under her breath; she had not considered it to be sweet, just more of a given. She had committed to Neron and so she would follow him to the end. That was how she had always been, endlessly loyal to those she loved, and at this point even her dear Halo wasn't quite enough of a driving wedge to pull them apart if it came to it. "I hope it lasts. If we can manage it, it'll save a lot of bloodshed and discrimination from occurring within our walls."
Comments about gift baskets were dismissed with a smile and a roll of her eyes, Morgan casting a glance over her letter. "I do not know how committed to the Gods the leaders are. I am not even going to attempt a letter to Stormbreak, but as for the Grounds, Torchline, Sidhe...some of them will not take it well, I am sure." Torchline, she believed, had the best chance of accepting it. Sidhe and the Grounds...on different sides of the fight, were likely to disagree.
She wasn't sure what answer to expect when it came to Neron fighting in the war. On the one hand, he was Ascended. On the other...he'd always had a kind of intellectual detachment from the world around him. Selfishly, she hoped he might here - but she tried not to let disappointment show on her face as he said yes.
"...I see. I think..." Morgan sighed then steadied herself, knowing she had to put other things before her own emotions. "I think we should perhaps make it known that the Voice will do such a thing. For us to call for neutrality then for you to head off to fight could send a mixed message." She could already hear the angry questions, the bitterness in their tones as they implied she had let Neron off easy due to their relationship. "...And...if you did go to fight. Do you think...and I mean honestly, no to offend: do you think you have a chance against the followers of the Old Gods? Remi or Ronin or any of their other powerful members? What about this 'Order'?"
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"If they don't take it well, that is on them," Neron points out with a small shrug. "We aren't asking them for permission to be neutral, after all. We're just informing them that they are welcome within our walls so long as they keep their weapons sheathed and a civil tongue in their heads. Some people will have a problem with that because of their misguided beliefs, but that is not our fault. It's only if they disrespect our decision within the Citadel that we need to take action."
Speaking of taking action, he can only offer a sad smile to Morgan at her reaction. Is it really a choice if it's being made purely so it can't be taken from him later? "Well, that is the problem," he says. "I don't know if the Voice will do it. I only know she has been capable of calling us all to the Grounds in the past. And even so, how would that affect Halo? People leaving to fight for their beliefs doesn't impact the neutrality within our borders." It might affect how many people are available, certainly, but that's never something they can foresee.
Do they have a chance, though? He drops his gaze at that and shrugs his shoulders. "If we didn't stand at least a small chance, we wouldn't have made it this far," he murmurs, though he doesn't sound convinced.
"That's true...I know this is hardly a unique wish, but it would be useful to be able to see a year into the future. To know if we will be able to upkeep this position." Morgan tapped the edge of the table, beating out a discordant little rhythm as her mind flashed through various possibilities: a few of them hopeful, a lot of them dystopian. "I suppose if the war is decidedly won, we will need to make good with the victors swiftly after the fighting stops."
While, logistically, Neron leaving to fight wouldn't effect their neutrality, Morgan had had a trial by fire of introduction to public opinion. She was sure there would be at least some that would want to argue...but that was a problem for later. As was Neron's chances in the Grounds, but that was harder to push to one side.
Slowly, she reached out to take one of his hands, kept her eyes on his fingers as she softly traced each one with her own and ran her thumb over his palm. "I've always planned on being the first of us to die. It would be rude of you to change that." A joke, though not a very funny one.
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"Will we?" Neron can't help a sharp smile at that, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. "A lot of people would call us cowards if we did that, I think. Not declaring for a side before the war, but wanting all the perks of being part of the winning side once it's finished?" And then, quietly, because every way they turn it seems to come back to his demise, "Then again I don't suppose it's any of my business. If we don't win, I doubt I will be around to get a say in it."
Long fingers wrap around Morgan's, Neron's smile softening, and he nods to her. "Well," he says, "I've managed to keep myself alive so far, even though the odds have been disastrous. Either I'm very lucky or I'm spectacularly talented - something I always suspected about myself, in truth." Stepping away from the desk, he gives her hand a small tug. "Come on. This can be a tomorrow problem."
"Mmmm...you have a point..." Morgan groaned and rubbed at her temples. Normally she wouldn't dare to show her human frustrations, but in private the pressure all the diplomacy put on her was hard to ignore. She yearned for the days of being a simple soldier, of having commands and a sense that someone else was taking care of the big problems.
The odds were indeed, surprising. Neron had been close to death several times (a couple of those by her own hand) and yet he was still here, making his egotistical jokes that always drew both a laugh and an eye roll from her. Morgan let herself be led away, standing and dousing the candle on her desk with a tiny mist of water.
It was hard to shut her mind off when matters of such great importance filled it, but she tried to let out her tension with a sigh as she sat on the edge of her bed and leaned back onto her hands, looking over Neron. "You should really talk to the Voice about looking a little older. I'm beginning to feel like a cradle snatcher."
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"Can I get that in writing?" Neron wonders, of her admitting that he has a point. Ever able to brush off the worst life has to offer with a smile and a sardonic quip, he follows the Glacier over to the bed and sinks down onto it beside her, flopping back to lay amongst the pillows. Gone are the days when he'd feel dubious about getting so comfortable (and showing it), and he raises his eyebrows at her remark.
"Are you trying to say I'm incapable of looking distinguished?" he inquires - a gentleman does not make remarks on a lady's appearance, so he'll deflect onto himself instead. "I know I am unable to grow any facial hair, but if you like I can try to stick some fur to my cheeks. Oh! Or..." With a wave of his hand, his illusion magic tweaks and disguises, giving the impression of a beard and perhaps even a few crows' feet. "What about now?"
"Oh come. By now, you know I think you're quite intelligent. In fact, I even thought that before we were close, but I assumed you used all your intellect for inventing new ways to look at yourself in a mirror." Turning a little and laying one of her legs over his casually, Morgan unbuttoned her undershirt - it was never warm enough in Halo to sleep entirely nude, but sometimes one could get away with just a pair of pants, on an especially bright Longheat night.
It was surprising, as soon as Neron applied his magic, just how attractive she found him. Morgan paused, her lips parting a little before a smile settled on her face. "You look good. Not that I want you to think I don't like your face usually, but..." She reached out to cup his cheek, unsure if she would feel the bristle of the beard on her palm or not. "In this face I can see more of the wisdom and maturity you've picked up in the last years. It's sexy." The smile became a grin, then a little laugh.
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"Oh, please. I used my intelligence to invent new ways to get out of doing any work. My vanity does not hold a candle to my laziness." At least, that's how it used to be. Neron has discovered his work ethic in the past few seasons though, it seems, not that his motivations are any less selfish. He shifts a little to get more comfortable as she nestles against his side, his arm stretching around her, only for his eyebrows to raise at the way she's suddenly looking at him.
"Yeah? Don't feel so much like a cradle snatcher now?" He smirks, leaning into her touch. His illusion magic is visual only, unfortunately, so although it will certainly look as if her fingers are ruffling across the scruff on his cheeks, she'll be able to feel the difference. "Intelligent, wise, mature... you're feeling very complimentary tonight, aren't you," he murmurs.
"What a wonderful quality for a Warden to have." Morgan commented dryly, though the grace of time and love made her smile as she said it.
Her fingers traced around his jaw, the sensation on her fingertips not matching the texture she saw making the whole thing strange. She let her hand drift away once she reached his chin, though her eyes stayed on his face, taking in the vision of who he could be if they weren't separated by race and divinity. If they were to truly grow old together. "It's probably the stress. Or maybe the potential that we're all going to die in a divine war soon. Make the most of it." Morgan tapped the tip of his nose with a finger and then got in close to him, letting her lips just brush over the skin of his neck.
"...I was wondering, the other day." Her voice was quiet, muffled but just audible to Neron and Neron alone. "If we could, if...everything was different. Would you want children?" Maybe he was a little young for the question, but if he could put on the face of an older man, she hoped he could think like one too.
I've got you You've got whatever's left of me to get
"I didn't choose to be Warden," Neron reminds her, probably not for the last time, though he does shoot a fanged grin her way as he notices her smile. Letting long fingers tease through her hair, his nose scrunches as it's tapped, the Hailstorm letting his eyes settle on the dark outline of the doorway as he pretends he can feel more of her affections than is strictly possible for an Ascended.
"I'll keep that in mind," he all but purrs regarding making the most of it, already planning to ask if Morgan is feeling less stressed the next time she quips an insult his way. He's about to settle into the closest thing to sleep that he gets when she speaks again, Neron blinking his eyes open and gazing down at her.
He's already got a child, technically, with Jace, though it hardly seems that way, and he lets out a soft sigh. "If not for being Ascended and not for the deal I'd originally made with the Eirachi? It was all but expected of me," he admits. "I've never given much thought to wanting them, to be honest. I'd worry they'd end up like me, or the other Launceleyns." Realising this went both ways, though, he glances down at Morgan. "Would you...?"
