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!
Well, he’s not pleased in the slightest, but it’s his turn for the watching shift. He’s managed to find an amulet and a chair, and he sits aimlessly in it, leg crossed over the other as he fiddles with the amulet around his neck. It’s rather pretty, but the way it sits along his chest bothers the tattoo that’s still healing beneath it – but at this point, anything seems to bother it. The sleeveless shirt he wears, the air. And with the whole ordeal at the door earlier, he really wishes he’d just ignored it and gone and hid in a room somewhere.
But he’s not that lucky.
Steel eyes flit from amulet to door, head tilted while he stares aimlessly at it, distracted just enough by his thoughts and being stuck at the Temple rather than the Guild. At least one crisis has been avoided.
and I think I love you
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Maybe it's mean to taunt him like this, but the truth is I'm still a little salty about the whole oh hey I fucked the midwife thing. And what's the ability to illusionary sounds for, if not to torment your cheating dickwad of a boyfriend with creepy, disembodied voice telling him to abandon his post?
Not that I keep it up for too long. He looks so fucking mopey over there, guarding the door like a good little soldier while I take my post behind the bar, mixing up his favorite, whiskey neat with a dash of bitters. I make another one for myself and slide his across the bar, leaning over the wooden counter and placing my head on my hands. "It almost feels like being home during the worst of the fighting, doesn't it?"
It’s an aimless attempt at looking busy, focusing mostly on the amulet and the incessant itching of his tattoo – at least, it was, until an all too familiar voice seems to come through the door. He jumps slightly, boot scuffing against the floor with the movement. He’s uncertain, disbelieving and definitely not fucking answering that door to the voice of his father of all people. Even if it was real, the man could absolutely get what’s coming to him.
Slate eyes flit back toward the bar, to Lusea when she speaks, the corner of his lip raising toward her in the slightest of smiles. Abandoning his post only to focus his attention on Lusea, but still within hearing distance of said door. He settles the amulet down on his chest, to the side to not bother the tattoo, as he grabs the glass from her. “You cruel thing.” He rumbles lightly, though amusement settles within his voice. “My poor father, whatever will he do?”
But she comments on being home and he lifts the glass to take a deep sip, relishing in the burn before he focuses on her with a small nod. “It does. I hate it.” He admits with a quiet rumble of a laugh. “Reminds me of after the trial a bit too, which doesn’t help.” He shrugs, leaning forward along the bar toward her. “How are you handling it?”
and I think I love you
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Knowing him? Make the monsters fight each other and be king of whatever's left." I roll my eyes, but it really isn't so far from the truth. As much as I would have loved to see the bastard torn apart by whatever the fuck is supposedly out there, I can't imagine that any of them are truly worse than him.
Tossing back my own drink, I turn steel eyes away from him to cast my eyes around the bar, taking in the crowd. It's fucking dismal, and only going to get worse. At least back home there would be drunken brawls and music and laughter and rebels, bloody, sauntering in. He's right- it's way more like the Trials, which is a thing I'd rather not think about. Wrinkling my nose, I take another sip. "Oh, you know. The usual. Trying to decide whether or not I want to throw you out that door." I'm half serious. The thought is tempting.
But hot damn, I would miss those abs.
"Do you think there really are monsters out there?" I top off our drinks and take mine between my fingers, spinning it around. "Or is this some weird plan to make us more dependent on the people in charge?" Forgive me if I don't trust the monarchy. Bad experiences and all.
There’s a snort sent her way at her comment, a glass raised in quiet agreement. “Ack, and he’d probably find the most awful monster out there to marry poor Saartjie off to.” There’s a hint of humor to it, but he knows he can only get away with so much after everything. She still hasn’t forgiven him, nor does he blame her. But any attempt at being normal is one he strives for.
And it seems like it, as she takes another sip and debates whether to throw him out the door or not. He can’t help but to smirk at her, reaching across with those gunmetal eyes of his, searching her face. “Oh?” He’s not denying he deserves it, but the thought is playful enough. “The flaming arrow over my heart isn’t proof enough that I’d find my way back here to you?” A crooked smile crosses his face as she tops off the drinks. He knows he’s messed up, but it was only the once — blighted, drunk, uncertain of everything.
She asks about the monsters though and he tips back the rest of the drink, setting the empty glass on the counter as he leans back. “We almost opened the door to one earlier.” He shrugs. “Whatever it is, is elaborate. I bet your father could see right through it if it were untrue.” A small admission, but he did love the man. Gave him a chance when others did not. “Tell me Ms. Kotze, daughter of the fearless, what say you?” He tilts his head.
and I think I love you
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"I would have thought the compass was, yet here we are," I fire back, unimpressed with his playful banter. Yeah, like hell he's getting away with that shit. Fuck you, Sunny, you're not done with your penance yet. Not until I say you are, and you will know when that happens, believe me.
The comment about my father does earn him some points, a sharp and wolfish smile crossing my lips as I lean across the counter. "Hmm, you're not wrong." The old man wouldn't be taken in by anything, least of all imaginary monsters trying to sheak into a bar. Fuck if I don't miss him, though, ornery and ridiculous as he may be. I can see him now, standing there, a sawed- off shotgun in his hands. 'Let 'em come,' he'd jeer at the door. 'I'll show the fuckers true Korofi steel.
And what say I? I say I miss my gun. I say I miss when I knew what we were fighting, when I could see our enemies and it wasn't just ghosts and loss and shadows and infidelity. "I say it almost makes me miss it," I reply flatly, looking away. "At least there I knew what I was fighting. And who I could trust." A low blow, pointed at his fuck up? Maybe, but I'm still salty about it, and I'll be angry just as long as I like.
Well the first barb is understandable, and it makes him realize quickly that he’s not quite out of the woods yet. He’ll be there when she says he is. At her mercy every second, and understandably so. The comment of her father though, gives her some calm – or so he thinks at least, looking to softness of her face that withholds so much fire and flame, sharp barbs and the most beautiful accent of home.
And he wants to run his hands through her hair, to tell her over and over again how sorry he is, for everything – for his stupidity, more than once. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know what he can and cannot do, and instead he has to do what he promised her. To be his old self, to not make those mistakes. And when she finally says what’s on her mind, it’s flat, and she looks away from him much to his chagrin.
He goes to open his mouth to agree with her, until she finishes it, and he huffs quietly beneath his breath. Alright, so, shifting back to his old self, just for her, he hops up onto the bar, swinging his long legs around until he’s on her side of it, and he hops down to get in her space. Head lowered toward her, he aims to grab her hand and pull her into him. “You know what I miss? I miss bleeding on the table in the bar after that fight I somehow won, and you told me you didn’t trust me.” His head tilts. “And you still stitched me up. And I kept fucking myself up just to see you.” A slight crooked smile crosses his face at this.
“I fucked up, here. I did. But I can’t fix it when you’re not letting me.” Steel eyes search her own dark ochre gaze, a hand raises to run through her dark hair, and he leans his head near her ear, a deep rumble of their native tongue, that similar confidence of back home, the flood, the deluge, with a dusting of noble arrogance. “So let me fix it.”
and I think I love you
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Oh, so he wants to play a game of make believe? To get in my space and assert his dominance, as though I were that easily appeased, cowed? Sunny, I'm not your pretty little midwife, blond and blue eyes and fragile in your embrace. I'm your flame remember? I've resisted you before. And I can do it again, for as long as I want.
But damn, if I don't want to anymore.
"So you miss being a noble prick, getting blood on my bar top night after night?" My expression is challenging as he presses against me, his breath so heavy I can feel it on my face. "You miss being an Arbiter's son, trying to fit in with people whose lives you could scarcely begin to comprehend?" Oh yeah, he'd sauntered in like he owned the place, and it had taken a good deal of beatings for him to understand. There in the rebellion, it wasn't about how much damage you could deal. It was about how many blows you could take.
And I've taken far more than my fair share, Sunny. So maybe you should shut up and take yours.
Except you wouldn't be my flood if you did, would you? No, you never took anything lying down, and it was something I always admired, even in those early days- even now, when I see so much of that soft little noble prick reflected in your eyes. I can feel every place where your body is touching mine, feel if like fire and ice and brimstone, like standing in the pouring rain with the steam rolling off of, our heat visible in the pale light of dawn. "And how are you going to fix it, hmm?" I whisper up at him, my voice a hot hiss. "With pretty tattoos and princeling bullshit, like I'm just some tavern wench?" Show me how much you want me, Sunny. Show me just what you intend to fix.
Yes, he absolutely wants to play this game. A game he had won at before, though it had taken so many long months. Even when he had showed up at her father’s doorstep, having been given a task by the rest of their rebellion they had thought he’d fail. And her father had given him the chance. That and, he’s sure, he loved to see a Senzaok taking his orders for once.
His head tilts to her as she challenges him, as he presses against her and invades her space. “Got you to look at me.” He says, shooting a grin toward her that falters slightly at her next comment. “I at least wanted to try to understand it.” He offers her, a secret between his teeth he’d held close to his chest over the many years starting to roll off his tongue, incapable of stopping it. “We were so fucking close Lusea, to getting you all. My men had been stationed right outside the hidden entrance, and what’s-his-face started a fight in the alley. And I was the only one to see it.” He tells her, some of that steel returning to his gunmetal eyes. “We could've gotten you then and there, but I was on that rooftop alone, one step away from stepping off the edge. But I wanted to be better than my father. I didn’t want him to fucking win. So I sent them off, a dead end.” It goes without saying, eluding to the attempt on a similar rooftop the two of them had made when they had been captured.
It’s not the first time he’s thought about trying it, at the least. But she doesn’t move away from him, and he takes it as a silent win, head nearing her ear. He can hear her whisper, and he wraps his arms tight around her to pull her close. “Nope.” He tells her rather abruptly, head pulling back to let his gaze search her face. “I want you in every possible way.” Leaning back a bit more, a crooked rogue smile crossing his face. “You are my flame. So burn me. Call the shots.” A challenge back at her, because she’s suffered enough from being told again and again what to do, and if their first interaction since her arrival had taught him anything, it's that he doesn't get to make the demands.
Fire and water, her flame burning brighter than this weakened version of her flood could snuff. And perhaps he takes a book out of his conversation with Hotaru, in letting her grow into a wildfire. It’s about time, after all.
and I think I love you
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
