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 earth and ice grew calm once more and the tide of dragons receded, leaving the Citadel battered but still standing in their wake. There were reunions as those lost in the chaos found each other, and calls for assistance as survivors were dug out of damaged buildings, and relief as the living took stock of their friends and loved ones.
And grief, as the tally of the dead rose throughout the day and into the night.
Tal had been there on the wall when the Banshee handmaidens had come over it and sliced Halo's Shields to ribbons. It was the nightmare made real; his father's death, only ever imagined, given horrible, vivid immediacy. In the middle of the fight there had been no time to process it, but after...
When the Citadel was still and free of dragons he'd gone back up the Wall to help collect the bodies. Had it really only been a year since he'd brought Morgan's back from Whitebrim?
He worked quietly. Methodically. Transporting the dead to the place they had designated for the mass pyre. A hero's sendoff for all those who had perished in a War most of them would never fully understand. Wood was needed, and oil, and the courier coordinated with those who supplied them. The structure rose as the bodies were cleaned and wrapped and finally placed within it.
And some days later, as the sun slipped below the edge of a splintered glass Sea, Halovians gathered together to say their final farewells to the fallen of a War whose repercussions would be felt for days and years and generations yet to come.
This is a funeral mini event for post-War Halo.
When Sah had seen Tal gathering the bodies, he had stepped in to help. As the pyres were built, he found himself eyeing the morbid statue of Alex. It took some prying but soon she was free from the ground, although still frozen solid. Carefully he carried her over and placed her alongside the other fallen.
As the people gathered, the Abandoned took a shaky breath. So many had fallen but each and every survivor was a gift. Halo still stood, and it was in no small part to the frozen stranger. "Fuck... I don't even know her name." The mumble was accompanied by a grimace.
Raising his voice just enough to be heard, Sah addressed the gathered crowd as he gestured at Alex, "Does anyone recognize this woman? She's not of Halo but she fought the dragons alongside us to defend our home. It was her that channeled spirits to lead a portion of the dragons away."
A complete and utter stranger had died for them. It was the least they could do to alert her next of kin.
I think there for I am, But what if all I do is bleed?
Deimos assisted silently. Too many funerals, too much blood on his hands, too many motions and notions stinging the angles of his movements, but he carried on much the same; nodding towards those gathered, to Talyson, to Sah, not really knowing what to say. Hands that detested being idle wedged a few more pieces of wood into place, ensuring the kindling and stoking would be adequate for the eventual infernos taking bodies and souls home.
His eyes flickered briefly to Sah and the unknown woman – he’d recognize multitudes in Halo by now, as Warden, as General, as compatriot of protection and sentinel prowess. Brows followed their residual furrows though when he found no familiarity hastening to his mind – even distracted and addled as it was. “Not one of ours,” came with a shake of his head; none of his Shields, none of his warriors, wondering if she’d been a distant relative of someone in the vicinity – backing away as more came to glance and spare a look. A stoic nod of his head followed suit though, gesturing back to Sah. “But she will be honored just the same.”
There were too many for Noah to count. The wood gathered was more than he had ever seen before. He moved kindling and helped stack up the soon-to-be-pyres. When Sah asked if anyone knew the woman, he merely shook his head. She wasn't from here, and having lived thirty-one years behind these walls he would know.
His eyes burned from the tears. His nose was bright red. He didn't have anything else in him to cry out. It had all gone. He had worked and sobbed, sobbed and worked, held those around him who couldn't work over their body wracking misery. While the world was no stranger to war, and even Halo no stranger to destruction, this was at a level none of them knew how to hold.
The grief was too heavy.
The hope would come.
It just wasn't time for it yet.
noah olson
the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns
She is one of the first to help Talyson, though she has been in the Infirmary in most of the immediate aftermath. Healing until she has no energy or magic left, and fading into oblivion in fits and starts until she is needed once more. Only departing from the triage frontlines for good upon Deimos’ return, they are awarded scant few hours of rest before…this.
She doesn’t cry, if only because she is far too used to this. So many LongNights spent seeking out the dead in the wan light of dawn has left her numb to this kind of loss. But Evie is not without compassion, support. She helps wherever she can. Lending magic, helping hands, a supportive ear. Anything her people ask of her is given. She gives and gives, and does not think once of what will happen when she has nothing more to share.
The question of Alex is met with a mute shake of her head, and she doesn’t chide herself for letting her feet wander, drawing her inexorably back towards Deimos’ side to preside over the mass pyre. Eyes dry, but heart numb with pain.
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
The few who have seen her since the battle are already present. Anyone else does not matter. What they think of her, or of her choice for Enzo’s body, her solitude, her refusal to help with these preparations - none of it matters.
The Valkyrie walks with a slow, purposeful grace that does nothing to hide the inexorable nature of it. Any who stand in her way part forcefully as she strides through them. I’m her grief she is untouchable.
As such she stands apart from all of them. Perhaps she would have gone to Deimos or Talyson, but both have others by their sides. Flora, if she desires, is the only one welcome at Hotaru’s side. Standing with arms held in military precision behind her back, eyes flinty and cold, the Valkyrie stares over the unlit pyre in grave silence.
i understand you now to be both companion and adversary a familiar thorn and threat
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Something tentative and fragile had shifted in the courier's attitude towards Evie, and he hadn't protested or shied away from her help even after the battle was over. It was too soon to try and put it into words, and there was neither time nor energy for feuding in any event. Nothing drew people together like a tragedy, and this was the greatest to strike the region in living memory.
There were nods to those he knew as they gathered, and a lump in his throat that he almost couldn't swallow past when he saw Deimos nearby, alive and home once more.
He, too, could only shake his head mutely at Sah's question, not recognizing the icy statue of one of the battle's greatest heroes. There was tragedy of a different tenor there; her name wasn't known, but there would be many lanterns lit for her at the end of the season. It was all that Halo could do for her now.
And then there was Hotaru. She stood away and apart, her grief a cloak and shield around her that brooked no familiarity today.
Tal took a breath and, as it looked like the last of those who were coming were trickling in, he turned and slipped away. Not far; only to the Shrine and the fire that burned there, well-tended, and never allowed to go out. He lit a torch from it and carried it back, the crowd shifting silently as he paced with his burden towards the Wardens and offered it to Deimos and Evie.
Without Cordelia among them, Noah's stomach twisted harshly. Word of the war on this side of the Draig came to him from all tongues -- hers included. He wanted to hold her close as they honored those that had fallen. Whatever Halo thought of her was not for him to dispute or to rage against -- merely, it was his shame to hold. She had only done what she had promised him, the man she loved carved of ice.
He stood sentinel and silent, eyes red and cheeks hot. The lump in his throat swelled as Hotaru moved in. His heart ached for her, for her loss. He let this be known over the bond, but from her he felt only blackness and stone. Ice and despair. He closed his eyes. I'm sorry, Ru. He gave her, the only words he could bring just a whisper over their shared attuned bond.
Talyson moved in with the fire from the shrine, and finally the hunter shifted. He let glacier eyes move to Deimos, and gave the Sword a small nod of his chin. When they held Morgan's funeral, it had been Noah that presided over it. A duty as warden. Now, the honor and grief was in Deimos' (and Evie's) hands.
noah olson
the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns
They’d done this too many times before, and it never became any easier.
Perhaps numbing; but not when there were those like Ru in the midst, who had lost and lost and lost and picked apart the granules, hoping and aching for something thereafter. His eyes went to her, briefly blinking back something, and then a residual swallow, before glancing at Talyson’s torch, back to Evie, and finally, at Noah’s movement. His jaw clenched, but he returned the nod, knowing this was the responsibility of the Warden’s now.
He held the flames near several of the pyres, before handing it off to Evie for her to finish the others, eyes casting over the infernos, the snapping, the crackling, of kindling as it was stoked, sending bodies to rest with their souls. Only then did his deep rumble begin – horrific at speeches, with so much to convey and not nearly enough time or expanse or ability. But perhaps the world would begrudge him this, at the very least. “Halo still stands because of its people – those brave enough to fight, to protect, no matter the hardships. We honor those fallen in their attempts now, and will continue to do so as we live on.” To not let their efforts be in vain, to not persist and dwell and fall into the seams – as difficult as it was to crawl out of the midst.
Then he paused, waiting to see if the Evergreen wanted to add anything, along the inevitable places and footholds he must’ve missed. And only when she’d had her say and opportunity, did he continue to stand before the fire, echoing prior sentiments. “May they burn brightly.”
It wasn't a surprise that the woman was a stranger to all, but it made her sacrifice all the more painful. Perhaps her next of kin would show up in the coming days asking for her? Then at least Sah would have a name to thank her spirit.
As the fires were lit, Sah closed his eyes briefly, mouthing the words to himself in an echo, 'May they burn brightly'. The emotions in the air were a physical force upon his chest, but the only outward sign was his furrowed brow and solemn eyes. The words were far too familiar now, especially given his only short time in Halo. And yet, Caido continued to spill blood upon Halo's frozen soil. Hopefully things would calm down slightly now that the war was over. Or if not, then at the very least they'd hopefully get the time to grieve before the next burst of insanity arrived.
The flames burned and the Abandoned eyed Hotaru worriedly. He desperately wished to check on her and join her by her son's pyre. But the tension in her shoulders made him unsure. Although they may be pack, some agonies needed to be dealt with alone, at least at first. When and if the Valkyrie needed him, Sah would be there. For now, he'd simply give her the space she needed.
I think there for I am, But what if all I do is bleed?
Evie has never been more than acquaintances with Hotaru, but even her heart aches at the woman’s appearance. They are all surrounded by so much loss, and Evie is selfishly grateful that everyone she loves has made it out alive. But as she stares out over the pyres, she is keenly aware of just how much she has lost regardless.
As Talyson approaches them with the torch, Evie gives him a grateful look. Things are not fixed between them, but he has been tentatively more understanding, more respectful, and Evie appreciates that. Her hand doesn’t waver as Deimos hands the torch to her, and her steps are measured as she lights the other half of the pyres, Deimos’ words washing over her as she does. Turning in the lull of his words, torch still in hand and casting shadows over half her face, Evie doesn’t pause to consider what she seeks to say. Though Sam was always the most eloquent on paper, Evie has always had the power to speak from the heart. These men and women deserve that much, and she won’t withhold in fear of saying the wrong thing.
“The ache of every absence, every loss, is a testament to the love and respect we had for these people we say goodbye to now. Every time we hurt in their absence, remembering the space they used to fill and who they used to be, it is a way of keeping their memories with us. They continue on - in us.” Her eyes prickle, but do not fill. Evie believes too fully in her own words to cry. “And even after generations, when their names and stories are hazy or forgotten, Halo itself will remember them. Will owe them - for standing. For holding the line.” The Shields fall anew in the corners of her vision, and her throat trembles with a shaky swallow. “May we all strive to be as brave as them. May their spirits embolden us as we carry their fire in our hearts, keeping them alive in the only way we can. Never to truly die, as any flame in Halo is meant to.” Turning, Evie includes the torch her hand into the pyre before her, and echoes Deimos. “May they burn brightly.”
Don't look up, just let them think There's no place else you'd rather be
The fire flickers, the wardens say their words, and Noah keeps swallowing down the lump in his throat. The tears burned his eyes as the smoke rose into the sky, twisting and dancing and -- hopefully -- delivering souls to Mort. The Sentinel closed his eyes and let out his breath, his empathy and care pouring out over the attuned bond for anyone who has access to it to catch. He has no other words, save for what Halo has always said in moments like this. "May they burn brightly." His voice was but a whisper, rising just carefully and dissipating as quickly as the fog of his breath.
Noah's last post.
noah olson
the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns
He stepped back into the crowd as the torch was taken and words were spoken. Too many words, and too many pyres, but Tal didn't protest the speech. He stood halfway between Hotaru and Sah, tied to both in their shared grieving and yet each alone with their own aspects of it.
"May they burn brightly," he murmured with the rest, the words like ashes in his mouth as he remembered other pyres among the current number. Other losses, adding to this grim tally.
Pale eyes stared fixedly into the growing flames as, for once, he stood without fidgeting and said his final goodbyes to those who'd sacrificed everything for their home.
Tal's last post.
