From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
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!
Chuckling once more as he tucks his silk shirt in and rolls up the sleeves once more, Astaroth collects his cane and turns to face the medic with that still too sharp smile. “Quite a coincidence. I owe you my gratitude.” Bowing lightly as if to punctuate the point, Astaroth draws back to his full height, nodding his head at her follow up question.
“I would be honored to attend. Though, truthfully, I have a tendency to be found wherever Danta is.” His shadow, in a sense. “That being said, I figure he would not miss it for the world.” Which in a roundabout way seems to suggest that he would be there regardless. “I would be honored to meet your guest, as well.” He offers politely, before following her to the door.
Once there, however, and the breeze ruffles his dark hair, he turns to her with a curious gleam in his dark gaze. “I don’t suppose you are hungry?” He hums, shifting his weight slightly. “Or perhaps know of a good location to hunt?” Not wanting to make waves, Asta looks to Isla as he tries to dull that hungry ache in his bones.
"Mm, I did notice that you fell in step with him." Isla smiles heading out of the consultation and locking up as she goes. "He's the Theocrat of the Hollowed Grounds now, is he not? I don't envy him - I once oversaw the region myself." And gods, it still pulls a string of tension through her shoulders at the memory; Wessex, Bastien, ruling solo, then Sunjata...
Letting out a sigh as if to dismiss the memories, Isla walks them to the front door and steps out into the dying sunshine. It's as she's locking up the exterior of the clinic that Astaroth speaks again, and she glances across at him with a flick of her tail as if to ask if he's hungry or hungry, before the clarification about hunting makes it obvious.
"I know a few places, as it happens. I can show you where ramphire tend to herd. They're easy prey, and fairly large." Gesturing down the street, providing there are no objections, Isla will lead the way.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“I do and he is.” Astaroth murmurs with a soft little chuckle, nodding despite her quiet sigh of trying to ignore it. He’s oblivious to the fact as he regards the blonde woman with an easy smile. “He mentioned he’d read about you, after I told him of our wonderful day out.” The butcher kindly does not mention the fact the Maverick had assumed he’d had a crush. After all, Isla was stunning, but Astaroth wouldn’t trust himself not to take a literal taste of her, should he feel the urge to indulge.
As it stands, he is hungry, not enough that he forgoes the previous promises he’d made of not destroying the reputation of the Grounds in devouring any unsuspecting soul walking down this alleyway at this time of the day. So he perks up as she gestures down the street and mentions ramphire, nodding his horned head with a glint of excitement. “Lovely.” He practically purrs, falling into step with her as they walk.
A few moments pass, letting her lead the way before he speaks up again. “I have a fyrhund shift. It should make for some excitement, I would think.” He muses thoughtfully, his grin growing a bit sharper as he glances over and down at her. He fully expects to look like a herding dog, chasing after the beasts and nipping at heels until he managed to slay one. And slay he intends to do.
"He had read about me?" Pebble blue eyes grow wider at the prospect; never had Isla expected to become someone with an entry in a book somewhere, to be looked up in the same way she'd have done in her previous studies. "Well, I can only hope that the book was factual. I'm surprised any histories survived, if I'm honest, after what became of the Grounds during the war."
Isla walks quickly and calmly through the streets, nodding to those she knows and stepping aside for carts or others in a hurry in a manner befitting any ex-duchess. Soon enough, they find their way out of town and off into some long grasses shrouded by palms and other shrubs. "A fyrhund?" she repeats, smiling over her shoulder to him, her voice purposefully low and quiet.
"That's good. I've a tiger shift - you've seen it once today already, but the ramphire know it too. So if you lead the way, you might catch them by surprise." Nodding through a clearing, a small herd of the feathered beasts are happily grazing nearby.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“Yes. Apparently there’s a record book in the Atheneum that has gone over some of the history. I haven’t read it, but he mentioned it to me after I mentioned you.” He offers easily, flashing that sharp and easy grin back at her as they walk. It’s a smile that remains, even as her tone drifts a bit quieter and contemplative, recalling the destruction that had occurred. Astaroth hadn’t been around for that, but he does know a little something about chaos. “You would be surprised about what manages to survive in the chaos.” A knowing glance is offered her way.
Regardless, he takes her lead, avoiding getting run over by carts and people, even if he sticks out and towers over the majority with his height, he’s still just as polite as she is as they walk side by side – a gentleman and a duchess. “I do believe I caught a glimpse of you, yes.” He says as his voice drops as well, dark eyes sliding toward where she directs to spot the grazing herd, before he silently starts to shift.
Volcanic armored paws, red with heat start to wilt the dune grasses beneath his feet – but ever the predator, Astaroth makes his way around a dune to remain concealed, hidden away from the herd until he can strike, hunting like any diligent ambush kind of predator. And when he does, it’s with a snarl as he strikes out toward one of the ramphires, sending them all in a flurry, but the one in particular aimed directly toward running into Isla who has hopefully turned into her feline shift.
Not to worry, Asta - Isla absolutely has shifted, and she's already lying in wait.
Usually the ramphire herd know she's coming instinctively - such is the case when she uses them to hunt so often - but this time, with the introduction of a fyrhund, it's an entirely different vibe. As a result she's been able to hunker down in some longer grass on her belly, watching and waiting.
And by the time their prey comes careening right towards her, she's left a lovely pool of molten gold in her wake for a lucky passer by to come across.
For now, though, it's with a calculated leap that she collides with the ramphire, massive jaws fastening around its throat and clamping down hard as it goes down. She doesn't plan to make it suffer unnecessarily, holding it tight until it suffocates. Then, and only then, does she start to rip into it.
They don’t expect the fyrhund when he starts to careen toward them, picking one off to guide toward the tiger that’s made a pool of stunning gold, fully chasing after it as they block it in and Isla launches for its throat. It stills the creature enough at first that when Astaroth launches, clawed paws and a smokey mouth aim their collision with its hind quarters, clawing ribbons through the beasts back and sides.
And by this time, Isla’s taken the kill, and Asta waits the equivalent of all but a millisecond before he’s tearing into that hind quarter, ripping and tearing flesh and swallowing them whole with plumes of smoke leaving his nose, blood coating the front of him and dripping from the volcanic armored plates of his shift.
He devours until he’s satisfied, remaining toward his half of the ramphire to allow her the space for herself.
It only takes a brief flash of teeth that's all instinct before Isla gets herself under control and remembers to share. Nevertheless, they stick to their appropriate portions of the ramphire, the tiger licking bones clean of muscle and tendon and sinew before cracking them open to get to the marrow within.
Similarly to Astaroth, the Remedy eats until she's satiated, and once she's finished she takes herself to a patch of clean, long grass to flop down and lick the blood from her paws and her muzzle.
Only once she's satisfied that her fur - and thus her flesh and clothes - are clean of blood does she shift back, shifting into a lazy sitting position. "You hunt well," she says, smiling the compliment across to her fellow Ancient.
She can flash her teeth all she wants — because the fyrhund is so far focused on devouring the bits and pieces of the ramphires hind end that he cares little for what the tigress thinks. But they fall into lockstep on devouring the beast, tearing flesh away from flesh and cracking bones to gnaw the marrow out of, ripping through tendons and leaving feathers all strewn about and a mess amongst themselves.
And while Isla can go and clean herself off, Astaroth cleans what he can before dipping into the ocean that creeps up with the tide, riding himself of the blood as best he can, before returning toward the medic, shifting back into himself sat comfortably beside her as he works to fix up any rustled clothes. “As do you. Quite a hunt we had, mm?” He says, flashing her another too sharp grin, but the comfort in his dark gaze suggests he’s quite satisfied. And if he’d had his tiger shift back, she’d likely equate him to a lazy house cat all the same.
"Mm, it was much easier with two," Isla concedes with a smile, leaning back on her hands, her tail flicking idly at her side as she enjoys the sunshine overhead and the tang of blood that still coats the air. "I usually have to be a lot more subtle. I'm always surprised at how quickly animals can anticipate a familiar predator."
Perhaps she shouldn't be - it's likely as much a survival instinct for them as is their own need to hunt. Ah, well. "If you are in the area, perhaps we can do this again," she suggests with a fanged smile, before getting herself back on her feet, cheeks flushed from shifting and from the meal.
Brushing the grass from her skirt and adjusting her blouse, Isla glances around again and gestures back towards Torchline. "Can I interest you in going to my favourite tea house here, if you aren't heading back right away?" she asks. "It's where I get a lot of my blends."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“I find that corralling is much easier than chasing, but often requires more than one party.” He sighs a bit wistfully. It had worked, though, between the two of them – and it was far easier than his usual tackling of deer back in the Grounds when it came to his bloodlust, and so his appreciation is clear in his tone of voice.
But she makes a suggestion and he meets her fanged smile with the sharp version of his own, inclining his head in agreement. “I will let you know when I am within your shores.” It’s a date, sort of. A blood thirsty date whenever in Torchline, and truthfully it’s a perfect little way for Astaroth to indulge in food of a different kind and get to learn more about Isla aside from her wonderful taste in fashion and tea.
Which, speaking of, the grin broadens as he readjusts his clothes and the cane, offering her his arm so that she might take it as he nods. “I would love that, my dear. Lead the way.” Happy to follow her wherever the tea shop is, Astaroth tries his best to keep his excitement from being read on his face.
