From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
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!
Smirking, Loren trailed a finger down Weaver's cheek, moving on to trace her jaw. "Whatever my standards are, you are definitely out of my league." Indeed, there was something almost awed and disbelieving about the way he said it.
Not minding her laughter, he finally wriggled out of his shirt. Tossing it aside, he held himself up for a little while longer so that she could take off some layers as well. However, as soon as she was done, he closed the distance between them.
As his nails scratched lightly down her sides, he bit down gently on her now fully exposed tattoo. Moving down her chest with his lips as his hands came to rest on her hips, he pressed a trail of kisses down her body. He wanted to taste and explore every inch that she'd just exposed.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She can’t help but chuckle at that, her smile wide. ”Probably,” she agrees. It is perhaps true, though if it is, clearly she doesn’t mind. It’s all just a construct anyway, the sort of thing that doesn’t actually mean anything. What is it to be in someone’s league or not? ”Apparently you are doing something right.” He really was doing something right. She was here after all, in his league or not. And more to the point, she really didn’t want to be anywhere else.
They both manage to wiggle out of some clothes, and despite the cold of their home, his skin against hers is warm. Her heartbeat thrums with anticipation and delight at the sensation of his lips trailing down her skin, his hands on her hips. A small hum of approval slips from her lips. Her own hands explore his now exposed back, nails trailing lightly against his skin, as he works his way down her body.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
"Ouch." Still, the grin Loren shot Weaver's way let her know he was just kidding. Indeed, he one hundred percent agreed with the sentiment. "Then I suppose I should keep going." That was accompanied by his thumbs brushing along her hips.
As his lips continued to move downward, his hands started sliding up her again. They slid around her back again, seeking to undo her bra. However, it proved too tricky with her back against the bed.
Growling, he lifted his mouth from her skin. Then he shifted his weight, trying to roll them over so that she was on top. If he was successful, he'd try to move her so she was straddling his hips.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She chuckles, giving him a playful jab with her elbow. ”You said it first, not me.” Her voice is teasing, a bit singsong, clearly playing with him. ”Though yes, I would agree you should definitely keep going,” and her voice is suggestive now, her hips responding to his touch.
He goes for the bra with little luck, and as he tries to shift them, she moves at his suggestion. Weaver certainly isn’t the type of girl to complain about being on top, after all. She straddles him, perfectly content to sit there as she unhooked the bra with one hand and discarded it to the floor with their shirts.
For a minute she simply lets him look, but then her hands are running up his sides as she leans down to kiss her way up his chest and neck, finding his ear and nibbling on the lobe. A cool breeze comes to tickle the space right behind his earlobe as she pulls away, lips finding his again, hips rocking slightly against him.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Grinning up at Weaver from his new position, Loren winked. "Doesn't mean I wanted you to agree with me." Still, his tone was lighthearted, and he inclined his head to acknowledge she was right.
Not bothering to respond verbally, he did indeed look his fill, that same reverent expression crossing his features. Of course, he was not content simply to look. Soon enough, he reached up with both hands to brush and rub against her nipples.
As she shifted, he slipped one hand around her back. Nails once again raking down her skin, his fingers dipped under the waistline of her pants. However, it was just a tease, and he raised his hand to tangle in her hair once again as he arched up into her kiss.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”But I don’t like to lie,” she says with a slight purr, rather enjoying their new position. ”Remember rule number two?” Lying rarely does anyone any good. Skirting the truth? Well, sometimes that was useful, but lying usually caused more trouble than it was worth. There was much better trouble to be getting into.
She would be lying too if she wasn’t pleased by the look that crosses his face at the sight of her. Though she doesn’t have to say it aloud, because the sly curve of her lips speaks volumes. His hands reach up to skim her breasts, and if he continues, he’ll find all manner of small scars along her body. Mostly from training with her brothers, for they almost always used steel. Some from hunting, some simply from being stupid. And of course, the very obvious tusk wound on her chest, which would never be a beautiful thing, but it was a part of her all the same.
She arches, a cat beneath his nails, as they rake down her back. His hands slip into her pants, and she doesn’t stop him, though he removes them soon enough and tangles them into her hair again. She sinks low against him, the kiss growing more intense, her hips moving a little more. Still a tease, but certainly a fun one.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Narrowing his eyes playfully at Weaver, Loren smirked. "I remember." He gave her nipple a little pinch and twist to see how she'd respond, not minding or caring about the scars. His own skin was almost ridiculously smooth, a result of many sessions of healing magic. "But you've already lied, at least by omission, so I figured that and white lies were still on the table." Despite the words, it was clear he was teasing her, and not just verbally.
Still, she got him back, pressing her hips into him. His own bucked up instinctively, and he hummed apologetically. Still, the fingers in her hair tightened and the hand on the back of her head pressed down, deepening the kiss.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
The pinch and twist is not expected, and there’s absolutely nothing enjoyable about that (except maybe there is for a girl who has always enjoyed a little pain). She slaps rather lazily at his hand with a slight yelp of surprise, and a rather unconvincing annoyed look. ”Not about anything important. Unless you mean the Advocates, in which case you have been too much of a dick about that to deserve more information.” She says it casually enough, but it’s clear she also means it. Those were not her secrets to give away, and hadn’t he refused to tell her about Neron for the very same reason? ”But if you want white lies of flattery, maybe I can be convinced.”
She chuckles as his hips buck beneath her, clearly pleased at the reaction. One hand holds her up, the other roaming over his skin, fingers tracing along his collarbone before slipping along the side of his head to tangle in that unruly hair. She kisses him harder, falling into the sensation of him, the taste of him, and a little bit amused at the fact that even half naked, they can’t quite stop taking jabs at one another.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Letting out a huff of laughter, Loren raised his eyebrows at Weaver's accusation. "How have I been a dick, exactly?" Although there was a teasing tone to his voice, it was a genuine question. Indeed, confusion lurked in his eyes.
As she went on, though, he continued to stroke her nipples with one hand (no pinching this time) while the other hand dipped under her waistband again to cup her ass. "And how might I convince you?" This time he spoke in another heated whisper.
However, as she leaned into the kiss as well, he arched his body up again, this time in a far more controlled manner. For a moment his hand remained tangled in her hair. However, it soon began to drift downward, tracing down her back, once again exploring every part of her he could reach.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Never have I ever?” she says with a slight raise of her eyebrow because I give up on timelines right now...what are those?. She’d punch him for it, but it’s really hard to punch someone who is playing nicely with your breasts. ”Threatening to take my scones away. I mean….” Now she is teasing a bit, though she does sober as she speaks again. ”It’s not my secret to give you.”
His hand dips below the waistband of her pants, finding one cheek. She has a cute butt, though relatively small, as is the rest of her. Still, the muscles there are clear enough, even if the size would not suggest as much. ”Is that really what you want? Flattery I don’t mean? Do I not flatter you enough?” Her voice is teasing, a little lower now, though maybe the point is valid all the same.
His body meets hers again, his hand trailing against her back. She arches into the touch slightly, though stays pressed close to him. She sucks on his lower lip, nibbling at it for a moment before her lips begin to wander down his neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark in return for the bite to her tattoo.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Letting out a huff of laughter at Weaver's complaints, Loren just winked at her. "I already knew everyone there was an Advocate, because certain members of your organization have looser lips than you. And I gave you the scones." He'd just teased her first, like he continued to do with her nipples, stroking them softly.
Smirking, he shook his head. "Not flattery. Just tell me what you like." As she bit down, he let out a groan, throwing his head back.
With that, he lowered one hand to his arm and propped himself up so he could kiss her chest again, his tongue replacing his fingers on her nipples. The other hand slid down to her waist to toy with her pants, undoing them as best her could.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She just shrugs slightly. ”Doesn’t make it not an asshole move. Or do I have to teach you how to be fun at parties?” She does recall him saying he wasn’t much for parties, and though she didn’t blame him for staying away, if he was going to participate...Still, she finds she doesn’t necessarily mind the idea of dealing with a few less than stellar social skills. Maybe she doesn’t mind because it’s really hard to mind right about now.
She hums into his skin slightly as he groans, his head thrown back. ”You,” she says, her voice smoky, a low purr. ”I like you.” She kisses his neck, working her way down his chest slightly till he shifts, and she lets him take a turn. ”Even the shitty parts. I like those too.”
His tongue finds her nipples, and she closes her eyes, sighing in pleasure with her head tipped back slightly. His other hand goes to work on her pants, and after a moment she sits up and rolls to the side slightly so she can push her pants down, kicking them to the floor. She stays on the side of him, tossing a leg over his waist, and running her fingers lightly along his side.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Loren just laughed at Weaver's insistence that he'd acted out of turn at the party. "Are you going to punish me?" There was something wicked in his voice and his eyes smoldered.
However, when she went on to ask if he needed help with social cues his expression grew more serious. "Honestly? Yes. I've never been particularly good with people." Once upon a time that bothered him, but these days he just accepted it as fact.
As she complimented him, his cheeks flushed again. "I am happy to hear that." Voice a little husky, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "I meant physically though." He did his best to power through his embarassment.
Apparently, he should add his mouth to the list of things she liked. When she took the opportunity to rid herself of her pants, he did the same. Shucking them off much more successfully than his shirt, he was left in only his underwear.
Snaking an arm underneath her, he pulled her in close. The other hand crept lower, fingers brushing against her inner thighs. His mouth sought out hers for another one of those delicious kisses, since he couldn't get enough of her.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Well if you ask like that, maybe I will,” she says, her voice a bit teasing, but there’s that purr as well. Her lips find his neck so she can bite playful at his skin as a hand runs down to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, just to be a little tantalizing.
Though as he answers more honestly, she stops, hand slipping back up his chest to cup his cheek in her palm. ”I have sort of gathered that. Yet you do fine with me. What is the difference?” Maybe the only difference is that she seems to have a rather endless amount of tolerance and patience for him where others do not. Maybe there was something else, though.
She pauses, looking up at him at the comment. ”I am half naked on top of you and there’s not much of your exposed pieces I haven’t touched. I’m not sure I can give you a better compliment.” Which is true enough, in a way, but she isn’t going to sit there and lie and tell him he’s the most handsome man she’d had when he’s not. ”Didn’t we just have a conversation about the fact you might actually have to try and how I like your messy hair and your stubbly chin anyway? And when you actually smile, Loren, like a real one. You are handsome as hell when you actually smile.” Not the desperate version of that smile, not the boy who didn’t see his own worth. Every once in a while she saw the man he could be, and it was that version of him that was attractive.
She decidedly does enjoy his lips though, which really should go without saying. Then they are shucking pants and he is pulling her close again. She wraps one leg around him, letting him draw her against him, lips parting for another kiss even as his hands tease at the inside of her thighs. One of her hands slips down to find his ass, giving it a bit of a squeeze. ”Mmm, you do have a good ass,” she says around the kiss, her voice amused, remembering their first meeting long ago when he’d told her he had a good ass to kick. She’s viewed it, as he’d stood up and turned around, but it was hardly the same as now.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
