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!
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
There is one thing you never want to do in a boxing ring, and that’s grow distracted. The moment you take your eyes off your opponent is the moment you pay for it, and Nate knows the other man knows better. Knows these same lessons, or something like them, have been literally beaten into Sunjata’s head. Whatever it is that he sees must be bad, but Nate doesn’t even get a moment to think about what it might be.
There is one thing you never want to hear in a boxing ring, and that is a crack. No matter where it comes from, it earns a wince, apologetic words, but this is so much worse than any dislocated fingers or broken nose he’s caused before. It’s as if the world is in slow motion, if that slow motion moved faster than Nate could keep up with it. The crack is still echoing in his ears, even as he watches Sunjata twist away from him, and drop to his knees, the words drowned out by the sound.
It takes Nate a moment to really catch up, a quick glance thrown over his shoulder at the door, trying to find what could have possibly caused this, besides him. There’s nothing there, an open door (had they left it open?) and shadows. He turns to rush to Sunjata instead, worry taking over.
Where Sunjata’s words are silent by necessity, Nate has no such limitation, his mouth moving faster than he can keep up with. ”Fuck fuck, I’m sorry, shit, fuck, c’mere, lemme see sonskyn.” The tail end is accompanied by the dull thud of Nate dropping to his knees in front of his husband, hands coming out to grab Sunjata’s shoulders, to try and steady him enough to see the colour already blooming along his neck and face, the awkward angle of his jaw sitting where it shouldn’t.
”Its not that bad.” He tries to offer brightly, even as a matching litany of fuckfuckfuckfuck echoes out through the bond. ”We can fix this, right? Lookit me.”
// tell me what you know, i'm in deeper than i've ever been i will never grow, while this anchor is chained to my feet //
He does know better, but it still didn’t stop him from the shock of fear and upset that swelled within him at the sight, nor does it stop him from getting hit. And so he drops, his jaw a limp hang, any attempts to move it sparking a hissed whine as he hears Nate’s response.
And it isn’t his fault, not really. Sure, the Ascended threw the punch but it was Sunjata’s distraction, his fear, that brought it to his skin. But he feels Nate drop into the sand in front of him, one of Sunjata’s hands planted firmly in the sand, the other already shaking with the pain that sparks and sparks and sparks. But he manages to drop the hand when he feels his husband’s cool palms along his shoulders, pushing him up just enough for Nate to see.
It feels pretty bad, and even the silent agreements of a multitude of ‘oh shit, oh fuck‘s he can feel splintering among the bond and among the pain. But he does as told, steel eyes dark as they rise to his husband’s face, a muscle or two twitching in his neck as he tries to swallow and winces against the pain of that, too. How? Comes the accented rumble of pain and hisses, stilling despite the thundering heartbeat in his neck that pulses along his jaw and everywhere else.
i settled my grievance by crafting a mask, and i never looked back
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
Nate let’s the question hang in the air between them, his gaze focused, hands careful and filled with purpose. It seems like he’s switched, the facade of professional levelheaded calm, but with the ring Sunjata is uniquely privy to the entirely unhelpful silent panic racing through Nate. ”Oh it’s um, it’s actually really simple.” While he nods and speaks, his thumbs creep up and slip into the attuned’s mouth, his hands tightening. ”You’re going to hate it. I’m going to count to three.” Already silent apologies flow from him, but there’s an almost manic smile on his face.
Eyes search for stew before Nate speaks again, softer. ”Ready? One,” his fingers flex, ”two!” Without the warning of three, Nate springs into action, quicker than he necessarily should in his haste to ease the pain. With how hard he’s holding onto Sunjata, he can feel the scrape of bone on bone as he does it, and grits his own teeth in sympathy.
Despite the mistake of his haste, it does only take him the one try to set his husbands jaw. Immediately, the tense pressure of his hands fades, though they don’t move, with the exception of his thumbs. Don’t try and talk.
// tell me what you know, i'm in deeper than i've ever been i will never grow, while this anchor is chained to my feet //
He can see the switch, can feel the worry and panic underneath it, not entirely soothing. Nothing about it is, not when Nate’s thumbs are slipping up and Sunjata can’t help the reflexive reaction of his shoulders and arms suddenly covering with interlocking plates, flecked with feathers throughout, hissing around the thumbs in his mouth and the way he doesn’t know exactly how to respond to whatever it was Nate planned on doing. Wait, hang on—
Turns out he doesn’t really get a chance to – it’s probably for the better, ripping the bandaid off as they say. But he hates the fucking one two three game, unable to keep himself from tensing regardless, Nate’s strength and speed shocking and surprising, lacing his body with both pain and surprise, like a jolt against him. Fuck!
And he can feel the way the bone grinds against the other, the way there’s literally nothing to soften the pain other than what his body attempts to – which isn’t much. A sharp intake of breath, nostrils flaring, eyes shutting tight, the urge to shift himself to get himself away from the pain, the urge to use his useless jaw and shift himself into something to bite Nate’s fingers off, but nothing comes aside from the cry of pain with the grinding of bone, the edge of it heading toward a roar of it, electricity lighting up his throat in blue that matches one of Nate’s eyes so well.
But just as quickly as it happens, Nate’s hands soften and Sunjata’s slumping, panting through his nose, the electricity still glowing in his throat, a dull and hollow sense through the bond that’s almost a mix of sharp, shooting pain and rage. The armored plates continue to flit up and up until it covers his neck. Godsfuckingdamnit.
i settled my grievance by crafting a mask, and i never looked back
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
For the second time, Nate ignores the quiet wait to rush on ahead. At least Rhine it’s done with the best intentions, whether it comes across that way or not. Even through the bond, Nate knows the holy of pain he glimpses is only secondhand, is still miles away from how it had actually felt.
If he could do anything to lessen the pain, he would. A prt of him even considers the momentary blanking he could cause with a bite, but anything that might make Sunjata put pressure on his jaw should be avoided. Instead Nate leans in, resting his forehead against the attuned’s as gently as he can, his dark hair falling to brush against Sunjata’s cheeks.
”Shhh, sonskyn, shhh.” One hand stays where it is, wrapped around Sunjata’s jaw, while the other moves up to press through his hair. The dark, thick plates spreading up his husbands throat has more than a little worry sparking in Nate, an understanding of how much damage an angry, pained dragon can do. What about the new one, huh? I’ll carry you upstairs, get you a few things to help. The words slant like they’re a suggestion, instead of a request, the ascended not moving to give the other the chance to agree, or otherwise.
// i found a way i could catch that feel good, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since '93 wait just a moment, i can drop my values, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since 17 //
He breathes heavily, still as he can be with the predators lingering within him – nothing like Nate often did – but something similar, a stillness that he manages, eyes shutting tight again as Nate’s head leans in, pressing his forehead against the Attuned’s. He pants through the pain, trying to focus on the whispering touches of raven hair against his cheeks, but his hands still tremble, the sharp shooting pain far too distracting to be brushed away with the softness of long dark curls.
He thinks he can feel his heartbeat in his jaw from where Nate holds him, quietly thankful that the doctor’s hands are cool, aren’t fiery warm like every part of Sunjata right now. The suggestion of his new shift, of the dog, sparks a bit of worry he’s sure Nate could feel. What would it mean to shift, to have his proportions pull and tug, would it be more harm than good?
Fuck it. He thinks, a trembling hand reaching up to grab Nate’s elbow, to squeeze in a silent apology. But he accepts it, taking another sharp inhale that has his nostrils flaring, has him shrinking, has the short crop of hair shifting to long black fur, the shepherd whining in pain from his jaw, from the shifting, from the exhaustion it all suddenly caused.
The rage still remains, however, a burning, fiery thing within him. I didn’t mean to— He begins before cutting himself off, tail tucking in tight, ears drawn back. Fuck. I’m sorry.
// travelling so far to get there, all just to be here again all just to see what they saw back then //
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
The fuck are you apologizing to me for?” Nate gently guided Sunjata’s snout to rest on his shoulder, replacing the pressure of his hand so he can lift up the smaller form of the dog. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault at all. Fingers spread through his fur, the ascended careful to rise as smoothly as he can. It’s a surprisingly easy task, to let his motions become mechanical, to drop the facade of breath and effort, even if he doesn’t like at all the way it makes him feel.
Stopping for just a moment to spare a hand to grab something strong from the bar, Nate carries his husband up the stairs. It’s almost like déjà vu, the trembling sense of panic and worry reverberating between the walls. At least carrying Sunjata like this is leagues easier. At least nothing is torn open, at least they have a home to return to after this. Nate wonders absently what the next disaster will be, before he drags himself back into the moment, unlocking the door at the top of the stairs and depositing the bottle, but not Sunjata, onto the bed.
The warm dark bundle of fur is going to stay in his arms until he gets the first aid kit, and another little jar Nate fishes out of the desk. With everything he needs gathered, the ascended sits on the bed and disentangles himself carefully from Sunjata. A single cool hand returns to the attuned’s jaw, while the other fishes through the first aid kit of a length of gauze. Does it fee better than it did, at least?
// i found a way i could catch that feel good, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since '93 wait just a moment, i can drop my values, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since 17 //
I got distracted. He says, as if it weren’t absolutely fucking obvious that was the case. And if his jaw wasn’t throbbing, he’d be burying his face into the arms that wrap around him to pick him up. But he can’t, so he instead lets his nose be placed wherever, the smoothness with which his husband carries him up the stairs appreciative as much as it is depressing that he has to do this again.
But he’s along for the ride, quiet whimpers and whines slipping from the canine’s maw, kept carefully shut while those big steel eyes close, waiting until the moment everything starts to still. He thinks if he tries to look around, the nausea will rear up, that discomfort in his stomach another quiet threat on the backburner of his mind. But soon enough, Nate’s sitting on the bed and Sunjata remains tucked up, unsure whether he wants to exude the energy to shift again.
A quick glance to the first aid kit has his ears pulling back again, flattening against his skull as he debates shifting back, instead choosing to remain in place for a little while longer. I can’t tell. He admits quietly, sadly. It fucking hurts everywhere. This is said with a bit more exhaustion, more heaviness, a quiet bitter anger that bubbles up and laces its way through him.
Hopefully Nate knows it’s not directed at him, but rather directed at the vision and himself getting tripped up on it.
// travelling so far to get there, all just to be here again all just to see what they saw back then //
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
Nothing in the world breaks him like Sunjata’s pain does, the fact that he’s the cause of it making everything that much worse. Already the cracks begin to show in Nate’s frantic mental state, though it’s impossible to actually see, his expression hidden in the fur of the attuned’s shoulder. The only consolation is that the hardest part is over. No, the most worrying part is over. The hardest part is going to be the weeks of pain as this heals, bruising and swelling and nothing but liquids and soft foods.
I’m so sorry Sunny. Nate’s voice is impossibly hoarse, a near overwhelming blanket of concern flowing from him. As if somehow, if he tried hard enough, he could simply soothe away all of the pain. ”I can help the pain a little but uh,” he’s already wincing, a fresh trickle of guilt pouring into his guts, ”I need you to be... you.” He’s working with what he has, the boxing ring less equipped for this than it ought to be (a mistake they can fix going forward) but what he has can’t be admisniterwd to a dog. Even if the dog is usually human.
Leaning in, Nate presses his lips to the canine head of his husband, not quite a kiss, but a cool presence. Take your time. A sentiment entirely at odds with the sense of urgency beating through Nate like a heartbeat, the anger met with a frantic need to push and pull and make Sunjata better. It’s different, but exactly the same, borne of the same inability to do anything.
// tell me what you know, i'm in deeper than i've ever been i will never grow, while this anchor is chained to my feet //
Don’t be. He rumbles back, paired with a distinctly canine whine that slips from his maw. His ears still remain flat, but they perk up a bit, trying to soothe Nate’s own sadness. It wasn’t his fault, if only he could show him. And he wonders, perhaps, if he can send that chilling glimpse through the bond enough to try and get his point across, without dwelling too far into the details, without bringing that cold fear back.
There’s a quiet whine that slips from him again, the tensing of his joints, and even as his husband tells him to take his time… Well, again it’s like the bandaid being ripped off, better to do it now than dwell on it. Okay. He says instead, quiet and cold, dreading the shift back. But he manages it, with nothing short of sharp pain and the melding and adjusting of bone again and again, and by the end of it he sits on the bed with Nate — Jaw red and puffing up along his neck, steel that aims to meet electric blues, a paw turned hand that reaches for Nate’s, shaking and trembling as it holds onto him.
But the whole shifting back and forth and pain in his jaw has him exhausted, pained, scared, and so the Attuned edges forward just enough to lean into Nate, to press his forehead against the Ascended’s chest, regaining his breath. I saw him again. He sends down the bond, sure Nate would know whom he meant, sure that Nate would understand the distraction.
i settled my grievance by crafting a mask, and i never looked back
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
A cool hand runs back along Sunjata’s spine, fingers dragging through fur while it’s there, the whine that leaves the attuned making them tremble, stumble in their motion. He’s not the one that needs soothing, not the one in pain, something Nate tries to remind himself of. Worried eyes watch every step of the shift, though they hesitate to actually meet the steel that matches one of them. There’s no such hesitation in Nate’s hand, which wraps tightly around Sunjata’s. Squeeze when it hurts. A genuine offer, wrapped up in soemthing that’s trying very hard to be a joke.
Nate dips down to press his lips against the head that rests against his chest, both hands too busy to wrap around the attuned, no matter how he wishes he could. One still squeezes Sunjata’s hand, while the other fumbles with the first aid kit, the little jar he’d grabbed. The silent words have him pausing, just for a moment, understanding washing through him, though it does nothing to alleviate the guilt. ”Its just the season.” Nate offers softly into the the short crop of hair under his lips. Out loud, if only because it’s easier to pretend he’s certain this way, years of keeping worries and truth bottled up aiding him now. Never mind the throbbing uncertainty in his head, a dark oily feeling he can’t quite fully contain.
Leaning away, Nate takes both his hands back just long enough to fashion a loose bandage around Sunjata’s head, tight enough to keep his jaw still, but not so tight he can’t open his mouth. Immediately, one hand returns to the attuned, while the other fights with the bottle he’d brought up, Nate forgoing a glass to instead lift it directly to his husbands lips, offering him as many small sips as he wants. Try to only swallow a little bit at a time, don’t move more than you have to. When Sunjata’s had his fill, the bottle is set (not so) safely on the floor, out of reach for the moment. I have something else that might help too, but... there’s side effects.
// tell me what you know, i'm in deeper than i've ever been i will never grow, while this anchor is chained to my feet //
Squeeze when it hurts. Oh, his fingers tremble and squeeze the entire time – as his head nears Nate’s chest, resting his forehead along his lover’s tattooed skin. He feels Nate’s hand squeeze back, the words spoken aloud should do more to alleviate his worries, but they don’t. But he regains his breathing, a muscle feathering in his jaw that causes a sharp tick of pain, a sharp inhale of breath. It’s just the season. It’s just the season. Something he tries to tell himself every single time, but it never lasts.
It seemed so real. The Attuned’s mental voice is breathy, exhausted, sad. And even if he tries to shy away from it, he does send over the flicker of the sight that had distracted him, over Nate’s shoulder, the pale eyes that match his own so well, the sneer that mirrors his own despite how much he’s tried to avoid it, the jawline that is similar to his own. He finds himself squeezing Nate’s arm harder, latching onto whatever he says, searching for something else to distract him with.
It comes in the form of a bandage wrapped around his head, to keep his jaw together just enough, his steel gaze focused on the bottle Nate lifts to his lips. It fucking hurts, but there’s a part of him that craves it even more given the way he knows it’ll numb everything. So he does as told, takes as much as he feels comfortable with. And when he recovers from that, he can process Nate’s offer. He doesn’t even think of what the side effects could be in comparison to what he’s dealing with now, so he barges straight through it. I want it.
i settled my grievance by crafting a mask, and i never looked back
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.
just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
There is some deep pet of Nate that flinches away from the image drifting towards him, not in fear, but in sympathy. Mirrors are something he understands. While the initial shudder is hidden, the ripples of it are not. I’m right here. No ones getting past me. His voice is a fierce, protective growl, all of the anxiety in him aimed towards this single target.
A target that is fake, that is simply a manifestation of a bored deity. If Nate doesn’t remind himself of that periodically, he’ll start believing in it too. But he does believe Sunjata has seen something, and that’s cause enough for concern.
Nate’s hand is a steady pressure around his husbands, cool fingers interlocking with the attuned’s trembling ones. He watches Sunjata watch the bottle with a laser focus, only blinking when he pulls it away, the newly freed hand coming up to rub his inked shoulder, fingers slipping to just barely ghost over the edges of the bruising, the cool touch far too little too late.
That intense focus returns once Sunjata has had time to recover from the ordeal of drinking. An answer comes, too quickly for Nate to feel good about it, but too desperately for him to decline. The touch at Sunjata’s shoulders moves away again, this time to that jar, the lid coming undone with some work. A single finger sweeps every bit of powder out of it, before lifting to Sunjata’s lips. Tip your head back A request that is only going to be slightly less painful than what comes after it. A finger presses between the attuned’s teeth in a quick motion, trying to get the powder under his tongue. Try to not swallow or taste that.
12-22-2020, 07:16 AM (This post was last modified: 12-22-2020, 07:16 AM by Sunjata.)
// tell me what you know, i'm in deeper than i've ever been i will never grow, while this anchor is chained to my feet //
‘No one’s getting past me.’ He isn’t sure if anyone’s ever said that so bluntly to him before, isn’t sure if he’s heard such a protective and fierce growl laced into the promise. But gods does Sunjata believe him, clings to the words like a lantern in the night, guiding him home. And home it does, held close to Nate, the cool hands on his shoulder, fingers ghosting along the bruising. Really, the most frustrating part of it all, is that he was feeling better, it was supposed to be a great training session, supposed to be full of laughter and banter, of playfulness and happiness.
And here they are, Sunjata so close to begging for some reprieve for the pain that vibrates through him. He doesn’t have to, however, Nate’s got a ticket straight into Sunjata’s mental state, whether or not it’s good for the both of them. He knows. He can tell. And he’s reaching for that bottle while Sunjata remains still, fingers squeezing the hand still in his with each heartbeat pulse of pain that thunders and rampages through his jaw.
His head tilts back as told, a slow exhale through his nose with the movement, before his eyes are closing again, squeezing tight against the jostling of his jaw as Nate slips whatever it is under his tongue. And really, that sounds like the easiest part – not swallowing or tasting it, that is. And he does his best to not taste it, finding it relatively easy to keep his tongue from moving, any thought to it causing more of that pulsating pain to spring up from the reset jaw of his. I love you. He murmurs quietly, a grateful hum, head lowering, jaw staying still as he can, steel eyes opening and edged in the briefest wince of pain. What’s… What’s going to happen? He asks after a moment, unclear whether it’s what the side effects are, or whether it’s how long it’ll take until he’s back to normal, whatever normal was anymore.
So he chooses to distract himself again, his other hand lifting to wrap around his husband's middle, his warm body pressing in close against the cooling skin of the Ascended, waiting to hear what it is he should expect.
i settled my grievance by crafting a mask, and i never looked back
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.
