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!
To any one else, the water might still be unbearably cold (who knows how much it’s warmed up), but to Wessex, it will always be a pleasant room temperature. Her pale, lean body slices through the water with ease, arms arcing up and over her head, the familiar (but now useless) motions of turning her head to the side to breathe maintained, because as she’d realized about twenty minutes ago, she hasn’t figured out any other way to swim. There’s the underwater breaststroke, but that feels very… fish-like. And she’s already struggling with the half-god/half-human thing. Let’s not add half-animal to that as well.
The repetitive movements and the inanity of swimming from one edge of the Oasis to the other helps clear her mind. The moon in the sky keeps her company, silently watching the naked woman like some mute sentinel or a herald of her Lady. Safrin may own the stars and the mysterious cosmos, Wessex thinks, but she imagines the Voice lays claim to the mortal night and its moon.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Constant and determined and unrelenting, until her mind calms somewhat and she gets bored. Eventually, her feet find the slick and muddy bottom, toes squishing in the mud and trampling water greens, but still finding enough purchase not to stumble. She climbs out of the water with the light at her back, far less ample and sexy than the Venus de Milo - but pale and natural and dripping all the same. Unabashed - not that she thinks anyone would be out this time of night - she runs her hands over her face to remove the water, then through her hair, which spikes beneath her careless ministrations.
Reaching for clothes, the Wraith sighs softly.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
11-15-2019, 11:23 PM (This post was last modified: 11-15-2019, 11:24 PM by Hotaru.)
you are such a soft and messy thing
nobody knows how to take care of you
The night beckons her out into its arms, whispering her name in a tone long lost, a Goddess who is scattered to the stars she had once reigned over. She slips from the warmth of her bed, still dressed in her sleeping gown, and pulls a long cardigan on as she slips silently out the door to heed the call of the restless and roaming. The brisk air greets her, sweeping against her bare legs and curling in the crevices of her collarbones like a lover's touch. The chill of the embrace does not bother her. She is a daughter of ice and snow, and though her bare skin is more fragile than she is used to, some things simply cannot be changed.
She walks aimlessly, letting the light of the moon guide her, and when the trees fall away and the rubble softens to fresh spongey earth, she digs her bare toes in and gives a soft pleased sigh. When her gaze lifts from the earth she turns it to the gleaming surface of the lake, and makes an intrigued sound when she sees a distant figure cutting easily through the water. Watches for a moment, a little stunned by the boldness of swimming in such chill waters. She may have been spoiled by hotsprings, but it's impressive nonetheless.
And because Hotaru simply can't keep her nose out of things, she wanders closer, crickets and frogs accompanying the rhythmic splashing of the brave soul in the water. And then the mystery figure climbs the bank, pale skin awash in moonlight, and Hotaru can't help her voraciously wandering eyes as she approaches. Enjoying every dip and valley, the contrast of softness and the rigidity of muscle, the deep shadows playfully withholding more from view. "Should I thank you for the invigorating show?" Her voice is soft and teasing, though she's not any more modest in her silken gown and cardigan.
Code base by Sky!
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.
At some point, Wessex became aware of someone on the banks. It didn’t bother her because she knew that a.) if they were going to attack, they probably would have done so while she was in the water and b.) she has the occasional exhibitionist tendency. They knew the person swimming was naked and they stuck around anyway, which means that they’re intrigued. At this point in her life, a body is a body. It's the bite that counts.
Her eyes glance towards the pale young woman in her nightie and sweater, seemingly innocent despite her words. Invigorating show? Ha.
"Depends on how you plan on thanking me." She shrugs. "Words are kinda worthless, personally." Lingering over her shirt on the ground, Wessex straightened up again and ever so slowly puts it on, stretching up until the offending piece of cloth slips back down over her head, shoulders, and then chest in a stupidly slow reverse-strip
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Hotaru awaits her departure, eyes trailing along water that pools in crevices, that clings to pale strands of hair and long lashes. Her eyes are as greedy and ravenous as the rest of her, and the woman before her - familiar, a name tickling at the edge of her mind, but still a stranger to her - is a feast to be consumed. Practically laid out before her on a silver-moonlit platter. Exactly the type that she would hunt, woo, seduce. It just so happens that this time, the potential is delivered right to her.
The stunning creature's eyes drag down Hotaru's own body, and the blonde gives an innocent smile that only belies the darkness of her gaze. Just as unapologetic about her own scantily clad form as Wessex is of her bare body.
"No words I could come up with would sufficiently compliment you to my liking anyway," she concedes with a coy smile, a compliment in itself. Steps forward boldly as Wessex slowly draws her shirt back on, an absolute pity that starves Ru of further examination. "What would you request?" Her head tilts to accommodate her companion's taller frame, biting her lip slightly. Oh she'd be happy to have Wessex lay her down here in the reeds and take what she wants from her body, but she needs to know it's an idea that the woman is receptive too. Though she's quite glad she has taken this walk already.
Code base by Sky!
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.
Not innocent, then… Roger that. Appearances can be deceiving and all that jazz, she thinks, as Wessex raises a shadow-hidden brow. She should have guessed that was the case sooner, given the girl's lingering and immediate flirting.
At least this one appears to be more than a teenager. A woman can only rob the cradle so many times before it starts to seems like a habit - a habit Wessex doesn't necessarily want to be known for. Some things she will gladly accept if it adds to her reputation; the sexual corruption of minors isn't one of them (even though she'd lost her virginity early, it's apparently different when you're staring at it from the other side).
The Queen takes a moment to look at Hotaru - really look at the girl. She can see a testament to the night chill in the perk of nipples beneath her sweater, the heaviness of her breasts, which makes the elder want to hum in pleasure. The bite of her lip, the slight upward tilt of her face, the unabashed hunger in her eyes for what the girl thinks she sees - hard muscle. A mere handful of softness on each side of her chest. Perhaps the outline of a tattoo on her bicep. Hands that can pin, thighs that can take control, fingers that can coax or command an orgasm. A man in a woman's body, or so the Wraith's been told by jilted lovers. She smiles, cat-like and patient and predatory.
There’s something about the chase… something about wondering who’s pursuing whom.
Reaching out to close the distance between them, Wessex tucks a stray strand of hair behind the girl's ear with a soft chuckle. "Do you always offer yourself to strangers in the dark?"
Curling her upper lip back to reveal her fangs, she tilts her head to let the girl get a better glimpse of them - white on pale moonlight white. "I could be dangerous. But something tells me you like that." Still pantsless at this point (though maybe she prefers it that way?), Wessex bends down again to grab her breeches, keeping one eye on the girl and another on her clothing. Even the smoothest player can be brought down by the wrong hole.
Hotaru is not a stranger to being stared at, undressed by another's eyes. It is not always flattering, but in this moment she is practically gasping for it. Gods she's normally not so easy, but she has stumbled into what is essentially a wet dream come to life for her. Her exact physical type, already naked and wet to boot? Abandoned surely can't be cursed, because this is an absolute gift. So she tilts her head, chin lifting and exposing pale neck and collarbone beneath the moonlight. More than willing to place herself beneath observation, confident in both her body and her appearance.
Icy fingers tuck her golden hair behind one ear, and Hotaru shivers - from the touch or the cold she can't tell - and stares up at Wessex with a heat to her gaze that combats the chill. "Only the promising ones," she quips back, though her words are purred, a dagger wrapped in silk proffered to the beautiful woman. And when the woman smiles, fangs on display, she only smirks deeply back in return. Rexanna's words ringing in her head, dirty and promising. "Oh absolutely. Care to enable me gorgeous?" When Wessex bends over to grab her breeches, Hotaru uses the long sleeves of her cardigan to tug it down away from her neck with a simple shrug. The thin straps on her shoulders a laughable distraction from the smoothness of her neck, patiently waiting for the taller woman to straighten again. Intent on being back in her bubble immediately, perhaps get her hands on that trim waist, just enough to pull her closer if Wessex would allow her.
Code base by Sky!
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.
Not a word the hard-lined woman hears often. It makes her pause for just a moment, knowing full well that the girl is flirting with her, but slightly unsure as to whether she wants to reciprocate anymore. The words are too smooth, too honeyed and cloying to be true. People do not say that kind of thing to Wessex, because she isn’t gorgeous. She never was.
Edy did - or didn’t - she can’t remember any more.
The lines of her taut, smooth skin - yes, the fire in her belly - yes, the way she squirmed and mewled and moved underneath her hands - yes. The Launceleyn woman fucked like a wildcat, but Wessex can’t for the life of her remember if Edy ever called her gorgeous.
It shouldn’t matter, not with the way the light infuses this girl’s skin with a pale luminescence that rivals the moon. The Queen makes a sound in the back of her throat as she finishes with her breeches - of pleasure or consideration, it might be hard to tell (she doesn’t even know, herself) - and rises to find herself face-to-face with a sweater-less chestneckface and a lone soldier of a nightgown strap. If Hotaru’s eagerness was ever in question (it wasn’t), it could not be now. Wessex cannot help but chuckle.
She lets Hotaru make her advance, her own hands rising to the edges of her sweater. “I’m assuming demi-god Queens qualify as promising,” she murmurs, fingering the soft material, purposefully staying away from bare skin. “I can’t keep you warm if you get too cold,” she says in warning. “If I take too much… ” trails off and well, she won’t let Hotaru die. She would never. But the girl had asked about danger and in lieu of showing off her metal accessories or hitting her with a biopulse, this is the next best thing. “... sometimes the pleasure...” finally comes out with a half-shrug as if to say, what's a woman to do? other than get lost in it.
If the girl is still all in, Wessex trail one of her hands from the top of the cardigan to her shoulder, along its crest and then up the nape of her neck to rest her thumb lightly for a moment on the pulse of the beautifully vibrating carotid artery.
The woman's pause makes Hotaru's lips twitch with the desire to turn downward. She can't assume the woman's thoughts, but she knows that self-conscious stutter, that doubt. And she's rather annoyed that nobody has deigned to call Wessex gorgeous, because she certainly is. No matter her rugged looks, her diverting from traditional femininity, she certainly is gorgeous. Beautiful to look at, to enjoy, and Hotaru does so plainly and unapologetically. Raises a brow at the noise Wessex makes when she finishes dressing, content to let her choose their pace. For now.
Eyes lock on Wessex's gaze, illuminated by moonlight. "I'd say you're passable," she teases softly as the distance between them shrinks further and further, voice dipping lower and quieter as calloused fingers play with the edges of her clothing. Promising, tantalizing. And when she speaks of cold, Hotaru tilts her head back - intentional, for how it sways her hair further away from her throat - and laughs anew. Cold? She thinks Hotaru is afraid of a little cold? Oh, she has found the perfect willing victim for her fangs, because Hotaru has felt cold worse than this land could ever offer.
"I was born in snow and ice, you can make me as cold as you want. I can handle it." Bold, self-assured, perhaps a tad headstrong. Hotaru knows all too well the mechanics of this transaction, the reward that is so close she can nearly taste it on her own tongue. Metallic, like the blood she offers as fingers play over her carotid artery. She is a Queen in her own right, though her crown lies in another land. Wessex does not scare her, promises delivery of a pleasure Rexanna could not put words to, and Hotaru is ready to drown. So she grabs tighter to Wessex, pulls on her hard, demanding the connection of their bodies as her eyes light up like fire beneath the moon. "Now are you going to make good on your offer, or should I bite you first?" A flash of her blunt teeth, a promisingly dark smile, willing to try her hand at breaking that beautiful skin. And the challenge is placed, because Hotaru has her prey in her trap now, and she doesn't intend on letting go until they're both properly satisfied.
Code base by Sky!
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.
Ah, so this one has something in common with Edy: a lack of patience for foreplay. She imagines very few people have ever said No to this woman, have ever made her wait, turned the hunter into the prey. See, Wessex isn’t about quick bites in the alleyways and darkened corners anymore. The Wraith wants her partners coming back for more because it’s that damn good.
Pulled in closer to Hotaru, the Queen chuckles in the back of her throat, suddenly seizing the hair at the base of her neck. Tugging the woman’s head to one side, the older woman nuzzles up against that warm, pale flesh and uses her incisors to break the skin enough to draw a little bit of blood. Licking it up, drawing her tongue slowly up the path her hand’s just drawn, she pauses and murmurs in the girl’s ear, “Go on and try. I dare you.” With her other hand she tugs at the sweater, trying to pull it off the girl’s arms so she can lay it on the ground in a rough, but chivalrous sort of gesture.
After the sweater must come the nightgown, so she lets go of the girls’ hair to pull out and down on the fabric, attempting to rip it away from her body. Who needs clothes? She can have Wessex’s when they’re done.
The dark chuckle that rolls from the woman's throat is like promising thunder on a dark horizon. Tantalizing, electrifying, perhaps a little intimidating. It is distractingly attractive, enough so that Hotaru gasps softly in surprise when a hand comes to the roots of her hair and pulls her head to the side. It's a momentary weakness, one that's smoothed over by the soft barely-there moan that lingers on her tongue. The prick of pain that follows only makes her heart pound harder, faster, as if her pulse is desperately courting the predator that seeks it. Lack of self-preservation be damned, she'd rather die in the ecstasy that Wessex can offer her if she can choose a way to go.
The dare shakes her from her submissive reverie, heterochromatic eyes sparking with challenge as her lips twist into a smirk. "Come a little closer darling, I'll happily bite whatever you want to give me." As she speaks she lets herself be moved, stripped, laid beneath the stars in a parody of romance. A charade ripped apart as easily as her gown, leaving her perked breasts bare to the night air, nipples hardening beneath both attention and chill alike. Ah, but Hotaru is not the type to be passively moved, and even in her nudeness she is bold and unashamed. Her own hands travel up Wessex's torso, lingering on every angle and dip. A shame that sensation is not the same, that she cannot inspire the same feelings the demi-god makes her feel. But leaning forward, she attempts to lift Wessex's hand, slides her mouth down the skin of one finger, keeping eye contact all the while. Lets her tongue linger on skin that still tastes of cool water. "Your fingers? Your neck? I aim to please." They both know it's nothing more than a tease, a dance, but oh how Hotaru would love to have those fingers inside her nonetheless, wet with her own saliva. The Voice should look into giving Wessex an upgrade, because Hotaru desperately wants the woman to feel the ache of her own blunt teeth.
Code base by Sky!
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.
In the past she loved this dance, she loved the scrape of teeth, the ache the next day, the nails, the bruises, the marks left on the body and the physical reminds of taking pleasure in a world that offered very little in other places. The taste of a woman’s sweet cum on her tongue, the feeling of a hard cock sliding inside her, the animals in them awake and alive and clawing their way out of their bodies.
There’s something to be said for going through the motions, knowing what they used to feel like, knowing that some people take as much joy in giving as they do receiving. Genuinely amused by the tiny woman’s ferocity, she grins at her insistance that she’ll bite wherever and whatever, and oh, Wessex is game.
When Hotaru’s hands begin to roam, she sits back and peels her shirt off again, her body firm and unyielding to the woman’s touch - a weapon made flesh, and ultimately a terrible pillow for prospective partners. Were she Accepted, she might show the small signs of aging that all women show, but she is lean from a hard, active life, and now her muscles will never lose their tone. Her breasts are small handfuls atop a boyish frame. Slim hips, a ribcage easily felt under her skin, a body once covered with training and life scars is now eerily smooth, down to the V where her abs slide into her pelvis. Hotaru’s hands would have tickled a little, caused her to moan and pull them up to cup her tits and pinch her nipples.
Now? The Wraith lets her fingers be captured, lets them slip into the girl’s mouth; she can smell her arousal by now - they won’t need much additional lubrication. Besides, she’d rather see those lips gasping and moaning. If the blonde will let her, she rolls them over, putting Hotaru on top. “Whatever interests you. Just end up sitting on my face.” It’s been so long since she’s had a lovely pair of thights clamped around her head. And of course there's the femoral artery to think of...
Though the promise of the perks of an Ascended's form are tempting, Hotaru can't imagine being unable to touch, to taste, especially in moments like these. It only heightens her esteem of the woman who holds her in place with such simplistic, powerful movements. To strive for - and hopefully in this case, guarantee - a lover's satisfaction while incapable of feeling it yourself until the pinnacle? Not only selfless in its own way, but admirable to forge along that path. One that Hotaru intends to blaze tonight, to bring the pair of them down to embers and ash in the wake of pleasure beneath the moonlight.
The fingers in her mouth are cool from water and lack of heated blood alike, but she moans softly around them all the same. Enjoying the view shamelessly, the strong and unapologetic build of the woman before her, a vision crafted of marble emerging from beneath an artist's worshipful hand. It is instinct to touch, one she doesn't deign to curb, letting herself rake her nails lightly against unblemished skin. She is rolled easily, going where Wessex wants her, happy to submit where it benefits her. The apex of her thighs is wet with the product of her own excitement, sticking delightfully as she shudders beneath Wessex's words and heavy, promising gaze. "Whatever my Lady demands," she croons softly, almost worshipful in her teasing.
It shouldn't be a kink to desire those fangs, the pain and pleasure alike they can bring, but Hotaru isn't one for sticking to the status quo. She fears Wessex is going to give her a fang complex after this, that she'll take one look at a smiling Ascended and her panties will spontaneously combust, but the prospect of a good hookup is worth the extra money in fabric if it does happen. Heave ho and over the ledge she goes. Or rather, she sidles up on her knees, one hand reaching to cup Wessex's cheek and brush a thumb down the cut of her bone before she conceals it with her thighs. A surprisingly tender motion considering where they are and how quickly they've gotten there, but one that's not so unsurprising coming from the woman herself. She positions herself above Wessex, blonde curls soaked and hips trembling minutely in anticipation before lowering herself down, breath already catching in her throat.
Code base by Sky!
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.
Hotaru’s tender touch is a small shock to her system, catching needlessly in her throat, betraying that marble-wrought air of knowing what she wants and how she wants it. After all, isn’t that what everyone ultimately craves? Generous sex full of the ferocity of passion and the tenderness of care, of knowing a body inside and out and how to push the right buttons while feeling safe enough to let go. Wessex may have the safety part down (is anyone really going to mess with two naked women in the Oasis? Let alone an Ascended at night? No. No they are not) but the rest always seems just out of reach.
Her hands come up to cup the swell of the woman’s white, white ass and she squeezes a little, enjoying the feeling of supple flesh beneath her fingertips. She reaches up as Hotaru comes forward, tracing up the curve of her spine and the splay of her shoulder blades, spanning her hands out and bringing them back down her ribs, gliding, gliding over sensitive flesh to the narrow of the tiny woman’s waist. Smirking slightly up at the woman, Wessex turns her head to kiss her way up the pale thighs, nipping every now and then and stopping just short of the wet nest of curls.
With her hands over the tops of Hotaru’s thighs, gently guiding her in to place, she offers the same worship to her other thigh until she can feel wetness on her chin. Urging her gently to lean forward a little so that she might better reach her clit, Wessex begins to taste her with long strokes of her tongue, reaching for the sweetness and lingering on the nub at the top. Teasing, yes - but also working her way back with her hands, making sure two fingers would be able to easily slide inside her rider.
And when they do - if Hotaru will let her - she curls them up and forward, to that lovely little spot that will hopefully make her lovely little friend moan and groan and grind herself against Wessex’s tongue, which now begins to lash against her clit with some kind of determination.
Fuck, the anticipation is just as much for Wessex as it is for Hotaru, and the Ascended is one big ‘I’m going to cum’ moan from sinking her fangs into one thigh or the other. She hasn’t decided which yet.
Hotaru knows no other way than to include gentleness with her sex, has longed for it too many times even when seeking out the roughest of tumbles to deny it to somebody else. If Wessex is against it she doesn't show it, and the smooth perfection of her skin seems to taunt the callouses and ridges of Hotaru's fingertips. The woman's grip is just as strong, gripping at her ass and making her hips shudder backwards into the possessive touch. The Wraith's hands are cold, but welcome, traversing her spine and waist and leaving raised skin in her wake. This kind of foreplay is almost foreign to her, this simplicity of being touched even in places that do not immediately spark pleasure.
It's almost distracting enough to pull her attention from the teasing bites that pinch and suckle along her inner thighs, unresisting in the woman's hands even as her breaths hitch and tremble in anticipation. Even without being directly touched her folds are soaked with her own slick, wetting the precipice of her thighs in an inviting sheen. And then finally, finally, that dangerous mouth is where she wants it. Tongue a pleasant shock of cold, thick and parting her folds, caressing every sensitive ridge inside before flicking playfully against her clit. It's difficult to remain still as every already strung nerve lights up, moaning freely and appreciatively as her hands find her own thighs for support.
It does little to help once those long fingers are finding their way inside her, and she bucks down against them with a gasp, wanting them deeper. The woman obliges before she can do much more than drive down closer, curling and pressing against the most sensitive places until she's crying out and writhing, hips trembling as her hands - trying their best to be gentle, to not pull and yank as instinct demands - find Wessex's short hair. The dual battle of slick, enthusiastic tongue and hard, driving fingers is one she can't fight. Doesn't bother to, with how she grinds her clit eagerly down on Wessex's mouth. "Fuck, beautiful, you're gonna make me cum," she whimpers, pussy clenching down spasmodically on Wessex's fingers as they drum against her most sensitive spots. And the anticipation of the bite? Oh, that only drags her to the edge all the faster.
Code base by Sky!
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.
