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!
01-27-2020, 07:41 PM (This post was last modified: 01-27-2020, 07:41 PM by Bastien.)
We're gonna close the curtains
We're gonna rabbit hole down
As the new wave of guests arrived, Bastien felt a sudden heavy tension in the air. Giving Sunjata and Nate a nice smile as they entered, he stepped between them and Samuel, falling into the group to try and dissolve the atmosphere. "Yes, Nathaniel, you must be busy? I heard you assisted in the crash last week?" He mentioned, trying to pull the conversation away from the drama he had apparently missed (he was not very good at checking social media - Bastien much preferred to speak to people in person).
At Remi’s smirk, Loren flushed slightly. They’d fooled around a few times before he’d chickened out and ghosted the engineer (not cool, he knew, but then again, neither was he, though he’d apologized profusely for it after the fact). Now the journalist never knew how to act around Remi. The blush got even worse when the other man followed Loren to the kitchen.
So he was quite grateful when some new arrivals showed up, including a familiar face. Sunjata came right in and headed straight towards Remi and Ronin. At the boxer’s comment about the article, the journalist blinked, surprise writ large on his features though he quickly schooled them into a much less embarrassing expression. ”Oh. Thank you. I ah, wasn’t aware anyone had, um actually read the article.” Not used to people having seen his work, he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
Ice cream and berries deposited in the fridge, he turned around and headed back to the rest of the guests. He was just in time for the...outburst? quip? snipe? snarky comment from the redhead. Loren glanced at Bastien and Rexanna, wondering how they planned to handle the situation.
Indeed, the host swiftly stepped in to diffuse the tension. Still, seeing as he’d been invited, he figured the least he could do was run a bit of interference as well. Nathaniel (as one of the men the journalist didn’t know was apparently called) was taken care of, which left the man who’d gotten snippy.
Luckily, the redhead’s voice had clued the journalist into the other man’s identity. Kind of. Approaching almost a bit shyly and certainly a bit awkward, Loren smiled faintly. ”Hey. You’re that actor, right? Wordsmith, er, Worth? I saw you in The Tempest, you were fantastic.” His tone was probably a bit too earnest, but then again, so was he.
Nate returns the smirk easily, not hiding the way his eyes roam before the door is opened. ”Didn't know you’d be here, Jata.” He purrs, a little too fondly to be completely casual. The moment is left on the doorstep though, ripped away by the set of incredibly hostile eyes on him nearly as soon as he enters.
Ah. Samuel. Nate deliberately doesn’t meet the glare at first, looking around at who else is in attendance, and to his immense regret, it seems to mostly be people he either doesn’t know, or people he doesn’t know well. He does recognize Remi, and his husband though, a nod of greeting offered to the other man, and he thinks... maybe he recognizes one other as one of Remi’s exes? What is this, the sex degrees of separation?
The snarky words draw his eyes back towards {i]his{/is} ex though, a smirk spreading over his face. [say}”I still have time for some fun.” Nate comments, about to say more when Bastien, ever charming, steps between them. He’s happy enough to let the drama go at the prodding, switching gears almost immediately. He’s not here to cause problems after.
”You heard right. It was a long night, part of why I have some time in lieu now.” He explains brightly. Though, he’s not here to talk shop, especially not anything so bleak. He holds up the bottle and desserts he’d brought, a little helplessly, and asked: ”You mind showing me where I can set these down?”
01-28-2020, 07:03 AM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2020, 07:04 AM by Ronin.)
there is always hope
Allowing the beer to be taken from his hand, Ronin approached Bastien with the sort of bear hug reserved only for good friends. Those he knew he greeted with affection and those he didn’t with politeness; it was turning into quite the buzzing social affair. ”The place looks great,” he said by way of compliment to the hosting couple, already shrugging out of his leathers and hanging both jacket and helmet up wherever it was convenient.
Having spotted Remi heading to the kitchen, it would be unsurprising for the engineer to feel his phone buzzing in his pocket a moment later. Should he look, it would be to find that Ronin had spammed him with a row of cake emojis - hopefully the meaning would be obvious. Cake plskthx.
Sunjata would catch him just as he was slipping his phone away again, Ronin grinning at the boxer and already moving to open his beer, offering Jata a bottle. ”I’ll hook you up when you learn to ride properly,” he said with an easy shrug. It wasn’t clear whether or not he thought Jata was too safe a rider or too dangerous. Probably the former.
Libbs offered a friendly smile to the folks that had greeted her, taking Loren's hand, and gently shaking it. "Liberty Walzek." she introduced herself to the gentlemen and lady who asked. It was much easier that way. She didn't know these people. None of them did. And she doubt they would know her. Unless they were fanatical about cars, then they may know her. But what were the chances of that happening? Slim to none, and in that, she nodded.
"Are you the journal.." but she found her voice falling meek, as it seems someone else may have distracted him. Oh, darn. She pouted, looking around again for the person that she had come with. Anxiety was creeping on her like a hungry wolf, and Libbs never thrived on such situations. Oh, she should have stayed home. She should have stayed home. She should have-
Wait. Was that Sunjata?
Oh happy days! While the two had notoriously butt heads routinely, much like two bickering siblings would, her and Sunjata were drinking buddies, and good friends! Who else would listen to her rant endlessly about cars? And who else would pretend to be her boyfriend to help swat away some hideous stalker? And in the same end: Sunjata got free car repairs and entertainment value for days. Libbs was very much an amusing drunk.
So she quietly walked right up to Sunjata, nudging him on the side of his shoulder. "Oh thank GOD you are here I was about to lose my proverbial shit." she whispered to him, leaning in.
Before she can get too carried away, she grabs Remi’s hand as he offers it, a brilliant grin sent his way as she feels the gift placed into her palm. Clasping her hand around it, she leans in to press a light kiss of greeting against Remi’s cheek, a wink sent back to him, before she focuses on Libbs and committing her name to memory, ushering her in with the rest of the lot. A wave is granted toward Oliver, but her smile falters a fraction at the sight of Nate and Sunjata, and her sapphire gaze slips toward Bastien almost instinctively as an oh shit.
They have it handled, however, and Rexanna drifts toward Bastien again, departing for a mere moment to place the gift Remi had brought into a safe place of their bedroom for the time being, before she returns to focus her attention onto Samuel – coming up beside him to give him a squeeze as her gaze flits to Loren with a cheerful grin. “He is good, isn’t he? Perhaps you should do a review?” A raise of her brow to Loren, before she slips away once more to drift among the rest of them.
01-28-2020, 04:10 PM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2020, 04:11 PM by Remi.)
no one could fall for you quite like me
The engineer seemed to revel in Loren's awkwardness. "Haven't seen you at any of my shows lately. Some have even gone so far to suggest that you weaselled your way into the green room just for the story." And not, you know, Remi. But it was all in the past, and Remi's too-charming smile said as much. Before he might torture the writer more, he reached for his buzzing phone to find a wall of emoji's from Ronin. Texting back a series of eggplants (if Ronin was allowed to ask for things he wanted, Remi was as well), the alchemist waggled the phone at Loren. "Duty calls. And by duty, I do mean the dashingly handsome man in the other room. And by calls I mean has demanded food."
So saying he retrieved a slice of cake for Ronin and wandered back into the other room.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
after all is said and done you're just a carnivore
let you in and drink my blood you're nothing but a monster
She’s so fucking late.
And looks like hell. Which is why she’s late, because she’d stupidly tried to cover some of the last match’s lingering marks, but there’s really only so much you can do without heavy duty shit and Wessex has never really liked makeup to begin with, so…
The roar of a motorcycle heralds her arrival. In case anyone is listening. Pulling off her helmet in a very sexy biker-chick-with-hair-to-flip kind of way, Wessex takes a good look at the other vehicles already here. Making a face as she recognizes one or two, she reminds herself that she’s here cause of Rex and she promised to attend after flaking out on the last couple of parties. Aight. Well. Here goes nothing. She grabs the bag that was firmly strapped to the back and stalks towards the door. Black leather on black leather, she’s wearing her nicer pair of party pants and a set of boots with some fancy silver spike decorations.
There’s no masking the bruises across her left cheekbones and green-yellow mottling of her shoulder as she casually strips off her jacket in the hallway. Sporting a black tank (you sensing a theme here?) with a gold and amber lion mid-roar, Wessex stands kind of awkwardly, waiting for some indication of where the kitchen is, so she can deposit her very fancy whiskey and then proceed to imbibe it. Responsibly. Because like hell she’s getting drunk enough to not leave tonight.
---------------------
Wessex is an MMA fighter. She won her last match, which was televised, but took a beating during it.
The purr from Nate is met with a wink before he opens the door and slips in, leading his companions within as he blazes his trail toward Ronin. Loren’s surprise to the compliment is granted a wide grin, but it isn’t until he’s standing beside Ronin, jesting to the other man, that a bright laugh leaves him at the retort. He takes the bottle Ronin offers, feigning a bit at some form of hurt pride. “Fashion, what can you do?” He responds with a wry smirk.
Of course, he’s not left alone for long. He completely misses the commentary going on between Nate and Samuel, the tension in the room, focusing on Libbs as she approaches and he snorts, slinking away from Ronin toward her after she nudges him on his shoulder. “Ah, I see they’re letting just anyone in now, huh?” He smirks to her, patting her on top of her head with a hum of laughter leaving his throat. “I brought the good whiskey, by the way.” He offers, leaning in to whisper to her ear, pointing with the hand the bottle from Ronin is in toward where he’d placed said bottle.
He spies Wessex next with a bright grin of amusement at the look on her face. She’d had a great fight, had him on the edge of his seat the entire time. So of course he drags Libbs along with him toward her to clasp her on the shoulder, leaning in briefly to speak a bit quieter. “I see you too brought the good stuff.” He offers with a nod toward the whiskey, a hum of amusement lingering in his voice.
A wave is granted toward Oliver, but he still manages to find his way toward where Nate places the items he’d brought, completely oblivious to the rest of the drama surrounding the man, as he leans back against the table to survey the crowd. “A long night, huh?”
ain't no rest for the wicked
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.
The moment Oliver walks into the apartment he realizes that he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. Almost everyone around him screams power and strength, either literally or figuratively. Making his way over to what appears to be the dessert table, Oliver manages to get a good look at some of the people in attendance A couple of people, he is immediately able to recognize from television. One of which, he cant remember the name of, acts in dramatic old English things or something. Oliver hadn't really seen many of them, besides when channel surfing, but he does notice the...tension. Someone's having romance problems... Next, thanks to Sunjata, Oliver has tried to get into televised fighting shows. Wrestling. Boxing. Anything, really. It means that he does recognize a particular lady in attendance, Wessex. She was powerful as hell and Oliver kind of admired her a bit, maybe it's because they had a slightly similar hair cut. Who knows.
Setting down the tupperware, he notices Sunjata and heads on over. Hopefully he isn't interrupting anything between him and his male friend. "Fancy seeing you here, huh?" He offers a nod to his friend. "Have you been to one of these parties before? I feel so...underdressed."
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Nate is distracted from his conversation for a moment by the door opening again, his attention drifting. There has to be someone else here he knows, apart from his ex and the man he cheated on said ex with. And when Wessex walks through the door, someone he doesn’t know, but who he knows of, he can’t help but be a little excited. She looks better than what he’d expect, though, considering how rough her latest fight had looked.
That’s a conversation he can seek out a little later though, because he’s still taking to Bastien and it would rude to just step away from the host to satiate his interest. And, more of a motivator to not wander off, Sunjata finished his rounds and joined in the conversation.
He can’t help but angle towards the other man, immediately distracted from his own drama. ”It’s a good thing I’m used to long nights.” Nate retorts easily, a smirk on his face. Then he notices the bottle in the other mans hand and feigns hurt, his brow coming together. ”You didn’t even bring me a drink? I’m hurt.”
The young man from the door comes over, and now that his hands aren’t full Nate takes the chance to eye him up. ”I dunno that there’s really a dress code. I mean, look at Remi.” He laughs, then tilts his head towards Bastien, as if silently asking if there was a dress code.
Libbs literally lit up like a firework, one toothy smile growing from one corner of her cheek to the other. And in that, she quickly reached for it, making herself a glass, and chugging it. Hands down. Solid gulps, until she was left gasping for more. Because tonight she needed some courage, and it came bottled up and paraded here by a good friend of hers, and in that she could almost kiss Sunjata. Almost, that is. He's a bit of a ho.. So.
She paused a bit. "I don't know where the person who brought me here is. I don't know any of these people. Half of these folks are above my celebrity grade. Feels like a reality TV show, and I'm about to get smashed into a Candid Camera." she moaned at Sunjata, before her eyes set on Wessex.
Geez, the confidence, the aura of strength and superiority. Libbs wasn't gay, but damn, that may be the lady to question it. Or perhaps the whiskey finally started talking to her. Either way, she blinked away. Namely, because while she was definitely admirable by a longshot, she was also.. well, terrifying to the meek and socially awkward engineer.
Which, is most likely, why she chose to follow Sunjata. At least until a mistake was amde..
Ronin’s conversation with Sunjata was short but sweet, and the biker didn’t seem to mind at all. Tipping his bottle in a gesture of cheers and nodding as the other man’s attention was stolen by a young woman (and then several other people besides), Ronin moved to get himself comfortable on one of the several eccentrically decorated couches. No sooner had he gotten settled (smirking at Remi’s response) when the man himself swanned back into the room toward him.
”Well aren’t you the hero of the hour?” he said, beaming at his husband and sitting up to accept his slice of cake. ”It’s a bit early in the night for me to give you what you asked for in return, but come find me later and I’ll see what I can do.” He winked.
"Oh, I'm well aware of the fun you get up to, Nathaniel." However, it seemed Sam wouldn't be getting his angry banter right away, people swiftly coming to cut off his access to bitchy comments with civil conversation. For the moment he relinquished, grabbing a glass of wine before he replied: he was going to need it.
At least he was being distracted by compliments: he smiled at Loren, very much appreciative of attention from a handsome man in his current messy state. "Wordsworth, yes. Thank you very much. It was a wonderful play to act in...Mr...?" Sam held out a hand to greet his admirer, unsure of his identity (yet feeling like he had some vague recognition?).
Rexanna came to give him a squeeze, which at least comforted him a little, though he still couldn't help following Nate with his eyes around the room (why did he smile like that, huh? What did Sunjata have that he didn't?). "A review? Oh, you're a critic? If you like, I do have free tickets to next week's Macbeth, for a few." He offered, not giving into superstitions about not naming the play.
