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!
Fires are never supposed to go out in Halo - which means that there is copious amounts of ash - somewhere. Her instructions were explicit, however, and as all the public fires are well tended, she finds she had to bide her time until someone comes around to clean the grates and such out. Wessex can’t get close enough to do it.
So she lingers, like one of the poorer citizens of Snowcloak, around a public fire, never straying too close and with a furtive eye turned towards the passersby. Between monitoring her fluid for overheating and keeping an eye out for Noah or his goons, the demigod has her hands and head full of Old God obstacles. At least she doesn’t have to hide herself yet - she’d been a friend of Halo since the portal opened and the people, for the most part, know her not as public enemy number one, but as someone who occasionally comes bearing food.
Unfortunately, she hadn't thought to bring some with her this time.
Fire duty was definitely not Beryl's preferred job by any means. But it wasn't the worst either. And most importantly of it all, it had to be done. That she'd get paid for running around the city all night was another positive aspect.
Carrying a bucket with the necessary tools, she was heading for the next fire on her mental list. Greeting the people around the fire with a nod, Beryl's gaze lingered on one face for a moment. Not necessarily the person she'd excpected to see lingering at a public fire. But then again, it was none of her business, now was it?
There was a quiet klank as she set the bucket down on the ground. Inspecting and preparing the tools, Beryl then grabbed the gloves out of the bucket. She'd made the mistake of underestimating the residual heat in the stones around the fire once. Not something she intended to do again.
Wessex wastes no time in approaching the Halovian woman, coming as close as she can before her sensors start to tell her that that’s it. No further. And unfortunately, it’s a bit too far for a normal conversation, the demigod has to raise her voice a bit to be heard. “Excuse me!” she calls out, giving an awkward little wave. “Can you help me with something fire related?”
She offers a harmless smile, trying not to let the tips of her fangs show through. This is just a totally normal request from a complete stranger. No big deal. “I’d do it myself, but - Ascended and all.”
05-02-2022, 09:21 AM (This post was last modified: 05-02-2022, 09:22 AM by Beryl.)
BERYL
Interrupted in her intended plans by a call, Beryl looked up. She saw the woman which waved at her quickly and paused. Well, it wasn't like the fire would mind waiting a few minutes longer. So she sat the tools aside once again and removed the gloves. Then she stepped closer to the woman which had called out to her.
Once within a normal talking distance, she greeted the other woman with a nod. Before talking, she gave the other woman a quick once-over. "Depends on what you need help with. But I'll do what I can."
Taking off her gloves is a good sign, right? “Nothing complicated, I promise. I need some ash from a fire,” Wessex partially explains. Digging for a moment in her cloak, she promptly produces a small, plain wooden box, presumably in which she would keep said ash. Hoping that she might be able to leave it at that, the demigod refrains from any further explanation, but keeps the box held out to the other in case it’s accepted.
Giving the brunette a cursory up-and-down as well, she belatedly offers a friendly, “I’m Wessex.” As if that might explain the unusual, but fairly basic request.
Halovians, by nature, were a somewhat distrustful lot, given everything they went through on a periodic, shitty basis. The old woman nearby watched the interaction with narrowed, speculative eyes, as if she’d seen a lot in her lifetime (probably had, as she looked easily around her eighties). Stooped and hunched over though she might be, not much was going to stop her. Gloves on, furs wrapped around her sanction, she figured the sooner they got this bizarre exchange over with, the sooner the strange interlude could cease and desist. She couldn’t fathom why an Ascended would need ash.
Probably something shifty.
Snagging at the grate, cinders remaining and all, she barreled towards the Wraith with raw impressions from a life surrounded by misery. “Eh, take it and go,” she hastened.
The younger woman seems to hesitate and Wessex lingers there, straddling limbo with only a smile to help her cause. Who knows how it might have gone - and in the end it doesn’t matter, because an older, fur-wrapped woman comes barreling out from behind her, grate in gloved hand, and is hastily shoving it towards the demigod. She juggles it, briefly, sending some ash falling to the snow. It takes a moment to register that the older woman is doing it just to get her gone, so the Wraith happily obliges with a tight-lipped nod.
“Thank you,” she says briskly, emptying the ash into her box before handing the grate back to one of the two women. Once it’s taken, she disappears.
