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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
"Flora." Her name leaves the captain's lips with a rough and uncharacteristic warning, and though Jack raises his eyebrows at the Doubletake, there's a knowing sort of wickedness in his eyes that can only come from approval. And thus perhaps Torchline's queen will realise she holds more cards in her hands than ever before, even if it's at a sacrifice of her private thoughts.
Indeed, as they step into the House of Midnight and Flora engages one of the staff about the room, the red haze of her thoughts is as irresistible as it ever has been, and as the worker checks their books for an appropriate room for them to use (Longnight is busy, but this is the owners' daughter after all), the Doubletake will suddenly find Jack flush against her back.
"I'll take that whiskey," he mumbles against the shell of her ear - the one from her thoughts, he means. She'll need to be responsible for ordering it, however; the captain's mouth is now busy writing his name against her throat, his hands greedily unbuttoning her jacket to find their way beneath it, cupping a breast and guiding her hips back against him.
"Yes Jack?" Flora sings, her expression entirely innocent despite the wicked slant of her thoughts. His warning does little to silence her mind, though; if anything it was the Doubletake's second and third moments of considering just stopping and asking him to fuck her right there in the snow that had her slowing things down.
Once inside, it's Flora's turn to have to feign a conversation, and while she can't say she's any better at it than Jack would have been, she's able to flash the worker a smile before she's handed a key. Shall I tell your mother that you're here? He asks with a warm smile. "She has a charm that tracks where I am, so no need." The Dobletake answers breezily, even as Jack's fingers paw at her breast and he fits her hips against his own. Fire flares in Flora's belly, and though she has a smile plastered on her lips for the attendant's benefit, a moan slips through just the same. Given where they are, the attendant merely smirks knowingly and nods towards the bar area as he hears the word whiskey, before turning back to his duties.
"Come along." She purrs, growing all the more confident seemingly in direct proportion to the roughness of the captain's hands and the edge in his voice. Shimmying herself out of her coat to reveal a cream-coloured sweater and tight black jeans, Flora chooses a booth in the corner. All were vaguely U-shaped with thick velvet curtains that could be released to close off the booth for privacy, making each appear like its own little unit even when all the curtains were drawn back.
More than content to play the part Flora asks of him, and not just because she can yank on his metaphorical chain whenever she pleases, Jack blames his sudden craving for the Doubletake on the flavour of her thoughts and the adrenaline rush that comes with living, perhaps, for a little longer with his empire intact. As such, it's with a devilish smile half hidden by Flora's shoulder that he 'helps' her out of her coat, not bothering with his own (unbuttoning it will have to be enough) and trailing after her into the common area with a guiding hand against the curve of her ass.
"Leave 'em open," he mumbles of the velvet curtains, slipping an arm around her waist to draw her back against him again, where she'll be able to feel the physical effect of her lascivious daydreams and then some. "How long do you want to spend here?" he wonders. Long enough for him to sneak a hand down her jeans, or to bury his head between her thighs, perhaps?
"I was planning on it." Flora purrs over one shoulder. If one—or both—of her parents saw her getting sloppy in the corner booth, what of it? They'd traumatized her enough over the years, maybe it was time for a bit of payback.
Drawing in another sharp breath as Jack pulls her against him, the Doubletake arches her back as she tips her head against his shoulder, reaching up with one hand to tangle it into the captain's dark hair. "As long as it takes you to finish your whiskey." She answers, shrugging against him and leaving the choice up to him: would he down it one go? Or finish it impossibly slowly?
"Sit." Flora demanded, tossing her coat onto the opposite side of the booth before reaching for the table and tugging it back just a little. You know, just to make it easier for Jack to slide into. Before following him in, the Doubletake glanced around the room, meeting several eyes as she did so, before biting at her lower lip to stay her smile and turning back to the captain.
Sliding in after him, Flora would waste little time in finding her way back into his lap, taking advantage of her flexibility to allow herself to sink down entirely against him. Making absolutely no attempt to be subtle, she'd press her lips against his as she tangled a hand roughly into his hair.
"That all depends on how good the whiskey is," Jack fires back, only to slump obediently into the booth at her demand, gazing up at her with eyes made dark by arousal and need. Welcoming her back into his lap and leaning up to taste her lips yet again, Jack's hands are firm and possessive against every part of Flora they can get hold of, his head drawn back by her fingers tugging at his hair.
"At least half a dozen people are thinking about you," he whispers against her lips, eyes opening to hazily glance over her shoulder and accept the frosted glass of whiskey that is delivered to the table. Sliding the glass towards him with one hand, the other grazes along her upper thigh to grasp her hips.
"They want to know how much I paid for you," he adds with a scoff. "Or how much you paid for me. Or what's under that sweater. Or if you'll suck my cock in this booth while they watch." Maybe that last one is Jack - who knows?
"Only have a dozen?" Her lips grow crooked against Jack's as Flora pulls back enough for him to see the way her blue eyes glittered with dark mischief and a reckless need to be seen; to be wanted. The captain will find that Flora has ordered him a double, and quite whether that's meant to speed things up or slow them down remains to be seen.
Given that they were in a brothel, Flora was not slighted by being thought of as a whore. "More than any of them could afford." She whispered, before laughing brightly and straightening in Jack's lap. "You came cheap." As for the third question? Crossing her arms, Flora reaches for the bottom of her sweater and tugs it over her shirt. Never let it be said that the Doubletake failed to take any of her mother's advice to heart because she'd never once left the house in underwear that she wouldn't happily show to the world. Case in point, Flora's breasts were snuggly bound by a bra of red lace and if her thoughts were anything to go by, her underwear absolutely matched.
Tossing her sweater over her jacket, Flora leans forward to press her lips against the captain's ears as she once again fits her hips snuggly against his. "Are they still hoping I'll suck your cock?"
"Not all of 'em can see you," Jack points out through a whisper, "and there might be more beyond my range. More than one of 'em is busy under a table, I can say that much for sure." Not that it matters, especially as Flora sits back to draw her sweater over her head, giving Jack a chance at his first taste of whiskey. And of course it's good - this is Sunjata's place, after all - though the captain is soon flooded once more by thoughts of appreciation, arousal, and of course, Flora's decadent need to be seen front and centre.
"No, but now I'm startin' to," he mutters, taking another sip of his drink before leaning in to lavish kisses against her throat and between her breasts, his free hand clasped against the arch of her back. "Now they're wishin' they were me." He chuckles darkly. "I can't say I blame 'em."
"Yeah?" Flora wonders, her smile growing crooked as heat flared between her thighs. They'd come here because of her, but it didn't take a psychologist (or even telepathy, really), to know that the need to please sexually was one of the hallmark traits of having daddy issues.
Letting her head tip back as Jack's whiskey lips worked their way across her skin, Flora smiled to herself before once again lavishing the captain with her imagination. First was the queen on her knees beneath the table, with Jack telling her she was a good girl while he nursed his whiskey and she nursed his erection. The second saw the captain leaning against the booth with Flora's hair tangled in one hand, her big blue eyes staring up at him as he gagged her on his cock.
Gods, and whether knowingly or otherwise, Flora's imagination is one of the things that has always kept the captain coming back for more. Now, of course, she's more than aware of how to wield a weapon like that, and she'll feel the way his hand tightens around her hips and his breath stutters ever so slightly against her throat. Jack, of course, will get off to whatever gets Flora off, and the pictures she paints are exquisite to say the least.
So much so that it's only once it's too late that the captain realises he's put a hairline crack in his whiskey glass, Jack withdrawing enough to glance at it through hazy eyes. Huffing out a laugh that's as surprised as it is anything else, he knocks the rest of the drink back in one and sighs out the burn of the liquor, tilting his head back up at the Doubletake as if to say well?
His physical reactions only encourage the images she conjures, such that the way his hand tightens around her hips translates to the tug of her blonde hair as she sucks his cock, and his stutter of breath becomes her own as he forces more of himself in her mouth.
Blinking away the images as Jack shifts, Flora looks over her shoulder at the imprint the captain's warm hand had left against the hot glass and raises a brow.
Chasing the shot of liquor with a kiss, Flora finds she quite enjoys the taste of Sunjata's whiskey on Jack's tongue. Later she'll have to do a taste test to see if the woodsy tobacco was in the liquor itself or the captain's lips. but for the moment, she only wanted him.
Sliding off of his lap, Flora opted to leave her jacket and sweater where they were. Both were her mother's after all, and no doubt she'd be able to safely retrieve them in the morning. With the key in her pocket and a memory of Jack breathlessly telling her that he was about to cum, she glanced over her shoulder for him.
"Coming?" She wondered, looking very much like Katy Perry's teenage dream in her skin tight jeans.
Abandoning the empty glass in lieu of her lips, when Flora does eventually rise to her feet, Jack will have something of a difficult time following her. A few adjustments and a soft curse under his breath later, though, and he sidles out of the booth in her wake. "Without a doubt," he mutters huskily in response to her question, and yes, that's absolutely a double entendre. All but prowling after her, he won't necessarily prevent her from leading the way to the room she's booked, but he does draw her back enough that he can murmur into her ear.
"You are disappointin' at least two people who started to touch themselves while they were watchin' you," he informs her, fingertips walking up the bare flesh of her spine to tease at the clasp of her bra. "I say let 'em be disappointed." Because fuck if he doesn't want to be between her thighs himself in the next few minutes, eager to drown himself in the sleek velvet of her arousal.
Okay, so maybe there were benefits to Jack's ability after all. Practically preening with delight, the Doubletake hmms! under her breath as she grins at the captain over her shoulder. "Guess they'll just have to come back for the encore performance, huh?" Shivering beneath his touch and waiting with her breath held to see if Jack was going to unclasp her bra, her sigh was one of eagerness rather than disappointment as he rendered his verdict of fuck 'em.
Without needing to consult the pageantry on the walls to find her way to their room, Flora led the way with a swing in her hips and bright anticipation balled up in her chest. Despite how busy the brothel was, because of who she was, Flora was given one of the Midnight's nicer rooms. They all possessed the same magical ability, but this one was larger with more amenities already included (a fully stocked bar, jacuzzi tub, etc).
Sliding her key into the lock, before opening the door, Flora paused and turned to face Jack. "Wow me." She purred, stepping aside that it might be the captain's thoughts that influenced the interior of the room rather than just her own.
"Guess so," Jack murmurs, though his mind is already on whatever preening and impatience and anticipation Flora's thoughts scattershot across his magic. He follows obediently enough, his eyes on her curves and his mind a mix of intention and reaction, such that he falls to a halt almost at the exact same time as she does, left peering over her shoulder into the altogether average looking (right now) room.
But then wow me, she says, and the captain gazes down at her for a surprisingly long few seconds. Anyone else, anywhere else, and he'd have insisted some way or another that they go first - how else is Jack supposed to get his kicks if not in response to others? But fine. "You asked," he drawls, sidling past her and into the space.
A space which almost immediately bleeds into pitch blackness, the sort of which is too complete to be anything other than a blank and empty void. Except... it's not . They are faint at first, but curls of light and colour begin to spark across the dark expanse; strange and organic fireworks, some the soft green of calm and focus, others the jagged violet of frustration - most in shades of mauve or lilac, though, given the location. Thoughts, each and every one, as Jack makes sense of them through the filter of his magic.
"I don't reckon it'll really work until you walk in," he mutters.
It's a much more cryptic remark than she'd have expected from the captain, and were her demigod parents not somewhere in this very building, she might have been a tiny bit afraid of what Jack's mind might have to offer. Having fully expected him to simply replicate the scene on the beach that she'd been thinking so much about, as Flora walks into a room that seems entirely vacuous, she stops almost instantly, the garnet of her thoughts replaced by wintergreen confusion.
Glancing around at the whorls of colour that splash here and there, Flora turns in place, watching the bloom of light and colour as if she were in some 3D art installation. Some appeared slowly, others fractured with dizzying speed only to disappear, while others still seemed to pulse in ever-changing strength.
"Is...is this..?" Turning, able to make out Jack only because of the amber glow that pulsed vaguely behind him, Flora gestured to everything around them. "Is this what it's like?"
