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!
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
It’s a dance, of fire and danger, of hands in the form of claws that certainly have enough power to tear flesh but doesn’t. It’s that edge to it, the idea that it could that sparks more of the adrenaline – much the same with him and the way she obliges him. There’s a certain sort of power, despite being relatively powerless in the situation, that he loves when she arches her back, a gasp leaving her with his roaming hands and her beginning to speed up.
He works with her, finding a sort of rhythm they both can work with, one that keeps the speed up for her and the wave that crashes, one that keeps building his own. There’s sweat beaded on her skin, the same as his atop navy tattoos, scars, and bronze skin. And where her voice colors the air, his does too – accompanying her own as he burns with her. Before long, she crashes around him, and he can feel it so intensely that he has to suck in a sharp breath – ruining the attempt at keeping the panting relatively even as she begins to slow and his hands slide back down her sides to her hips, her head finding its place atop his chest for a mere moment for her to catch her breath where he has little in mind to be able to accomplish it.
The fingers that trail up his side spark goosebumps beneath their roam, and then she’s sitting up again – his steel gaze swirling with shadowed desire and lust as her hips continue to move slower, his thighs twitching with the anticipation. So now it’s his turn, and that string is already taught enough – right as he begins to sit up toward her, hands at her hips and ass in that slow rolling shift of her hips. He presses her against his chest then, lips seeking her own briefly before traveling to her neck to latch on, a growl slipping from his throat as his wave crests and begins to crash as well.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
There is a certain power in it, this ability to make someone else want, need, and long for something you can give them. There’s a satisfaction in not just your own pleasure, but theirs. It feels much like fighting does, the give and take, the back and forth of the battle until it is won or lost. It is a beautiful dance of two souls alight.
But it is his turn, and she lets him move her, reaches her hands around his back as he comes to sit with her, moving in time to the rhythm he picks. Obliging, supple, his if only for this time. She kisses him back, tilting her head as he goes to her neck. Her nails skip up the skin on his back as they move together, waiting for him until he too can join her, untill he finds his peak.
She follows his lead, slowing only when he is ready, staying in place unless and until he shifts to move her. There is no rush now, on the other side of the swell. Everything is lazy and quiet, her mind empty of everything but him against her, the contentment of not caring evident in the way her shoulders slump. She rests against him, head on his shoulder, lips brushing against his neck. ”Well hot damn,” she murmurs into his skin.
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
It is a battle of sorts, both left with marks from the tryst, both sweating and far too warm after the event (at least for him), and he’s tired. The muscles in his arms and legs tremble as his wave crests and falls, riding out the aftershocks, revitalized in the afterglow. She’s helpful through it all, content to be moved this way and that, and when they both slow until Sunjata’s content to stop, he feels her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her to keep her close, feeling the brush of lips against his neck.
There’s a hum of a laugh, not entirely full through the breaths he tries to even out, but he tilts his head a bit to capture her cheek or jaw in a light and gentle kiss. “It is hot.” Comes his hoarse reply, playing off her words, going to move her and clean up a small amount — already craving a shower yet still too drunk to stand and deal with all of that. So he readjusts himself on the couch, tugging her along until his back is at the opening of the couch, keeping her between him and the back of the couch while his head finds its place on a pillow.
His hand trails up, brushing her hair back behind her ear while his silver gaze scans her face, a content curve of his lips in a smile, thumb tracing along the column of her neck. “Are you still drunk? I’m still drunk.” He rumbles with a hum of a breathy laugh slipping from his throat.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
His kiss finds her jaw as he mutters about how hot it is. She rolls her eyes, though her smile is amused and content. ”You live in Torchline, you big baby,” she teases, but the fire in the hearth drops to a whisper of flame, plunging them into near darkness. She slides away from him, in need of a bath as much as he is, though she cannot be bothered and she doesn’t really care. Baths are a difficult luxury in Halo, and as such she is used to being dirty. Though with her fire magic now, it was actually not all that hard to heat the water anymore.
He adjusts them on the couch and she obliges, his back open to the air, leaving her to swelter (though she doesn't mind). She calls a small little breeze, not much, but she lets it run over his exposed back to help cool him down. And the gods thought magic was a bad thing. Ha. If only Frey saw how she used it. He tucks a strand of hair behind her head, and her amber eyes find his, though they are sleepy and unfocused now. ”Mmm, I feel as though I should be insulted that after all that, you find it necessary to tell me you are drunk,” her voice is smoky and low, a cat bathing in the sun, though she is teasing. ”But yes, I am.”
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
“I might live in Torchline but I usually don’t have access to fire magic… Unless it’s Haai demanding food.” He mutters, almost as if the point is lost because technically he does have access to it, but the fireplace in his home in Torchline had been empty of flame for quite some time. It made sense considering the warmth of the area at least, that the sun's rays would keep the city warm long after its set.
Still, he focuses on her now that they’re readjusted, his hand tucking her dark hair behind her ear, nuzzling his head a bit into the pillow and sighing lightly with the breeze that cools his spine and goosebumps rise along his skin. “Mm, well, it’s true.” He protests, giving her a fanged smirk. “And it’s only fun if we both are. It’s absolute shit if you’re the only one drunk, is it not?” Another gentle teasing, his voice hoarse and rougher with his accent than usual. Still, he keeps his fingers running through her hair, watching her face, content and spent with the exhaustion running through his body.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
”Yes, but it’s hotter than hell in Torchline,” she points out. They may have a previously out of control fire, but this was still Halo. The temperatures were still negative outside, and they are in what once used to be a meat room. It is really not that hot. Besides, was it so terrible to be warm from a little physical exertion? ”The clever answer would have been to tell me I am hotter than the sun in Torchline, or some other equally ridiculous bullshit,” she says, bopping him on the nose slightly in a teasing manner.
Still, she obliges him with the air. This particular magic is not exactly useful yet, so she might as well use it where she can. It’s a magic she knows nothing about yet, having never actually seen anyone else use it. There must be others, but she wonders who, and what the limits of it will be. For now, she just has to figure out how to call to move than a paltry little breeze. ”Ah, the worst,” she agrees, her hand resting on his side, her fingers moving in lazy circles on the skin there. Her eyes drift shut, content to just be as they are, his hands in her hair, her hands on his skin, mind empty and quiet.
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
“Alright. Fair.” He retorts with a light snort, a slight shake of his head. But as she speaks next, the amusement grows the light smirk that crosses his face, that brings the corners of it up in all his roguish charm. “It would have been the clever response. But, I’m a bit too distracted to come up with anything like it.” He offers her with a wink, continuing the light tracing of his fingers through her hair. He settles in the pillow about more, eyes shutting against the soft breeze to his back, and he gives into the feeling it brings — the relaxation it brings.
Her hand rests on his side, and he keeps his hands on her, touchy as he usually was after this. “Some of those drinks were deceptively strong. On purpose, no doubt.” He comments, opening his eyes to peer at her beneath the heavily lidded gaze he gives her, some playful accusation to the business she’s running. Of course, he’s not one to complain, not when he’s done much the same at the VlamVloed, not when he’s offered drinks in the Slagveld in Torchline that had also been a bit too strong than they otherwise should have been.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
She chuckles at that, giving him a look that’s supposed to be unimpressed, though she can’t quite suppress her grin. ”Fine, I guess that’s acceptable.” His fingers continue playing with her hair, and she settles into the pillow as well, back pressed against the couch, exhaustion and contentment sweeping over her like a blanket.
She appreciates how they both keep touching, how it isn’t just over. Though there would be no strings attached, she enjoys this almost as much. There’s something to be said for the connection that comes in the lull, in the aftermath. There’s understanding that sings between them, shared horrors and sorrows, something rooting slightly deeper with the sharing. ”On purpose, yes, though not for tonight specifically. I had no grand schemes in mind,” she says with a chuckle. Though he’s right, the cocktails are strong. Mixes of different liquors designed to taste more like juice than alcohol, designed to go down just a little too easily. ”You picked me for a reason, did you not?” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice, her hand finding his jaw and her thumb stroking his cheek.
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
There’s a slight grin that spreads along his face when she concedes to his point, knowing deep down that she was right about it and it was mostly him just being an idiot as was the norm, but he can’t help but to take the little victories when he could. Still, he keeps her close, fingers running through her hair, brushing along her neck and shoulder, nestled in the pillows and couch as they were. Sunjata wasn’t much of a touchy person, not until Lusea’s return. And with the partners that came after it only made him even more touchy, to feel and ensure the fact that they were alive rather than ghosts, to be able to remember the feel of them when they left again and again.
So when she speaks, he peers at her, leaning and nuzzling his face gently into her hand as she cups his jaw and her thumb strokes his cheek. “That’s what I thought.” He half rumbles, before he leans in to place a kiss to her forehead, gentle and soft and so much at odds with what they’d just done with one another and the primal danger they’d included. He could be soft when he needed to be, when he wanted to be. “I did. I think I definitely picked right.” He hums to her, a rogue smirk crossing his face. “A far better outcome than sitting in the heat and staring at the ugly spire, hm?”
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
She has always been a touchy person, finding comfort in those small gestures. Maybe because she’d grown up in a family of touchy people, though you were just as likely to get an elbow to the ribs as you were an arm around the shoulder. Still, she grew up without personal space, finding that she did not need it now. It took restraint to keep herself from reaching out when she shouldn’t, and even then, hadn’t she started so much of this with her curious fingers? She would always explore the world, and her relationships, by the feel of those things. And in this moment it is his warm skin, his scars, his calloused hands. It is the feeling of his heart through his breastbone, the movement of his breaths as his chest rises and falls. It is the sensation of his fingers in her hair, and his breath against her skin.
It is the gentle kiss he places on her forehead, and she closes her eyes at the feeling of it. So tender, after something that had been anything but tender. And though there were no expectations after this, she can tell he cares all the same. He cares in the way she cares for him, and she doesn’t doubt that they would burn the world around them to keep each other safe, if it came to it. You do not need to be in love to love someone. ”It is a far better outcome indeed, though still rather phallic,” she says, her grin wide and amused, recalling that particular joke from so long ago. But it wasn’t that long, was it? Not really. But it felt like lifetimes all the same.
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
He does care, he cares in the ways that he knows he can show it. Physically. Because he wasn’t really a man of words — how long had it taken him to admit anything close to the word love? How long would it take him to admit it to the next? Too prepared for the things he loves to be taken away, he keeps that step back as if it’s a curse. Oh, but he can show it instead of saying it. The tender kiss to her forehead is one such. Not of a romantic love — after all, they’re so similar to one another what kind of storm would that be? No, a love and care for someone to depend on when the need arose.
Still, the memory and the joke she brings up has him humming a breathy chuckle against her skin, peering at her as he pulls away, his other arm moving to wrap around her and keep her close. “It did, didn’t it?” He adds on, a deeper chuckle leaving him as he settles back on the pillow once more. “I don’t see you complaining about this one so much.” He winks, a crooked smirk overcoming his face with that.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
They speak the same language (or lack thereof, as the case may be). She doesn't sit down and tell you how she feels, but it is always obvious enough. Her affection is displayed in the way she touches, in the way she listens, in the way she pours a drink you didn’t need to ask for. There is something to be said for those actions, for things as simple as a gentle kiss to the forehead. It means so much more than words. Words are easier to fake, easier to hide behind. Though you could fake actions too, it was harder to make them feel convincing. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and Weaver has always preferred actions.
His arm wraps around her, and she finds a place for her head against his chest, eyes drifting shut. How unexpected this night had been, and yet, how wonderful. ”This one worked out in my favor pretty well. Though I admit, our first meeting did too, or we would not be here.” Here meaning the Kraai. Here meaning tucked in each other’s arms, finding comfort and solace in the growing friendship between them, in the shared loss. Maybe she ought to be thanking that ugly spire, for clearly, something good had come from it.
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed shake it out and light a cigarette
Her head finds a place against his chest, the light thundering of his heartbeat beneath all the tattoos and scars, and he holds her close as he feels her eyelashes brush his skin as she closes her eyes. He lets his close too, comfortable enough in the space or the couch, with his head resting along the pillow and not needing all those furs she had brought out and nested in before. When she speaks, there’s a light hum of a sound that slips from his throat, some sort of quiet agreement to the words she says.
He settles a bit more before he adds his own. “True.” He offers by way of agreement, before snorting lightly. “Though I imagine we would have crossed paths at some point. You and I are too likely to get in the middle of things to not somehow wind up in each other’s lives.” The smirk still stays, but his arm tightens around her gently, one resting at the back of her neck to keep her near. “I have to say I’m glad that this was the one that won out though.” Who knows if their meeting would have been one that ended up more on opposite sides rather than opportunity?
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful
They curl together, beginning to drift into that place that comes before sleep. Something like a dream, where the sharpness of reality begins to go a little hazy. His heartbeats keep time for her, a steady rhythm thundering in his chest. Her eyelashes brush his chest. The fire crackles softly in the background, kept dim but not out, because no matter how warm he was, they would freeze without it. She won’t budge on that point, but then again, she is the Halovian.
”Mmmm,” she agrees, the sound lazy, an equally lazy smile creasing her lips against his chest. ”I don’t doubt we would have crossed paths somehow.” Her voice is a smoky drawl, something amused in it. He was right, they would have crossed paths one way or another, but it could have gone very differently. ”I would prefer to be on the same side as you, though maybe that always would have been the case. We seem to believe in similar things.” They seem to stand for similar causes, which is to say, for the things that many would turn their noses at.
