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!
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
A dip of her head in agreement is what Ronin is met with, a half amused tug at her lips in a smile as it comes somewhat distractedly from his own lips. But he’s brushing the dirt off of his own clothes, and if her gaze lingers a bit longer she’d never say. Instead, she manages to tame her hair again into something presentable, nodding as he says he should expect them to be organized. Brown eyes grow wide as she plays along. “Oh yes, very organized. It’s basically half my job.” She quips, before her expression softens into something of amusement.
As for his plans, however, she can’t help the raise of her brow as if challenging what he plans to do until he lays it out directly for her. She makes a show of checking the time before clicking her tongue and taking a step closer toward him, a hand outstretched for his arm as if she plans on taking him with her. “The kind thing would be for me to help you with the problem I’ve given you, don’t you think?” She asks, head tilting again. “Provided that’s okay, after all.”
After all, Sera knows full well it’s more fun to tango than dance solo.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
"Sounds a bit tedious if you ask me," Ronin says, the joke coming out distracted and nowhere near as smoothly as it might if it weren't for the fact that all the blood in his brain has fled south for the winter. "I prefer to go into things spontaneously. Though I suppose that's why you're the Artificer and I'm here painting faces on training dummies." He does manage a crooked smile this time, straightening out his shirt and glancing over his shoulder.
He's about to make his polite leave to go and take care of that problem when Sera is stepping closer rather than further away, Ronin raising an eyebrow and letting her hand guide him around to... wherever the fuck they're going now. "Huh?" Eloquent, buddy. well done.
But even slow as he is, Ronin's cock knows what she's saying, and he's already moving his feet to walk alongside her. "That would be a very kind thing," he agrees wholeheartedly. "Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing?"
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
Sera is more of a fan of stepping back, of calculations and looking things over and over and over again until she enacts them. Something about Ronin seems to scream he’s more reactive to things, choosing action regardless of the cost and what it may do to him because he can’t help himself. Of course, she doesn’t air any of these, and instead lets a chime of a laugh leave her throat, hand reaching out for his arm to start guiding him to follow with her.
When it finally registers, she releases him, peering back at him with a playful smirk. “You? Not at all.” She offers with a honeyed tone, shifting their course so they walk down a new hallway deeper into the wings of the training area. “I need this too, if I’m being honest.” A hum of a laugh leaves her, turning once more until she’s found the room she’s searching for. It’s nothing fancy, but it is a makeshift break area for a janitor of sorts, empty and alone. Swift hands lock the door behind them, turning to Ronin after.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
Honestly, she could be leading them into the depths of the Climb and Ronin probably wouldn't notice until it was a thousand years too late. He's starting to crave this, he realises - this touch, this heat of another person, and it's that carnal desire that moves his feet and pays no attention to the hallways around them. Only when the door closes and Sera confirms that no, he isn't imposing, does he realise they're still in the Dragon's Nest.
But it's a secluded part of the nest, and the click of a lock tells Ronin that it will continue being secluded for a long time yet. "Oh, good," he mumbles, before his brain isn't really in the driver's seat any more, and he surges forward to back her up against the door. His lips are against Sera's without any further preamble, his movements almost frenzied, his hands needy and wandering.
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
He follows her quite willingly, something that internally pleases her ego though it doesn’t show on her face. It’s more of an internal excitement, the way her stomach flutters and flips when she’s dragged them to the room, when she’s locked the door behind her, turning to look at Ronin. She doesn’t get much of a chance, watching briefly as the demigod surges forward and her back hits the door – a squeak of surprise leaving her with the motion.
Oh, but she isn’t complaining. Not in the slightest. His lips find hers and that fire that was there previously burns within her, alight and stoked anew, her body pressing into Ronin’s wandering hands. One hand snakes forward to slip beneath the shirt he wears, fingers light as she craves the sensation of warmth he can bring to her, while simultaneously pulling him closer, her other moving to his pants, to try and free him from it, humming under her breath when her fingers move to stroke along his length.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
Ronin moves willingly, coaxed with only the lightest of touches, his own hands slipping up her shirt and along her thigh to grasp her hip. She tastes like fresh air, like a plunge into a cool pool of water, and he hasn't realised how thirsty he is. Sera wastes no time either, apparently, unbuttoning his pants and reaching into them with a swift practicality that he can definitely appreciate.
Moaning into the kiss as she grasps his cock, his hips rock into the touch of their own accord. Already Ronin is trying to take off her pants as well, eager for the smell of sex, the taste of sweat, for something quick and primal that scratches an itch that just won't be ignored. He ducks back from their kiss to pull off his shirt in one fluid motion, clearly intending to make the most of the leverage provided by the door.
01-01-2021, 09:24 PM (This post was last modified: 01-01-2021, 09:24 PM by Seraphina.)
Seraphina
the artificer
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
It begins as a quick fire, not that Sera would have it any other way. This isn’t for love or anything more, she barely even knows Ronin aside from what she’s heard, what she’s been told, and what’s all occurred today. It’s better that way, in her mind, to help and be helped in return. A scratching of each other’s backs, as it was. Still, she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t give her a bit of pride, a sort of story she can file away.
For the moment though, she’s practiced and swift, a smile curling the corners of her lips in the kiss he moans into as she strokes him, a pressing of her chest into his own with an almost feline arch of her back. But he’s trying to pull her pants off too, and her hips wiggle in an attempt to help him drop them. And it works, the fabric dropping precisely as he ducks away to pull his shirt off. She takes the moment to pull her jacket off, followed by her shirt, left only in her undergarments — lacy, black coverings begging to be torn off.
She lets him choose to do it, however, one hand slipping up around his neck to hook him back down to her, the other grasping his cock more fully in her stroking.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
The heat between them soon ignites into something explosive, and clothes litter the ground within the room that Ronin hasn't really given two glances at. He's a little busy, to be honest, drinking in the curves on offer, feeling lace and warm skin and trying to peel it away that he might get more of it all. But then Sera's got her hand wrapped around his cock again and fuck if she's not skilled in that department, the Star hitching in a breath of surprise.
Sinking back into the kiss, he hums a note of greedy desire and presses in again; one hand cups and gently squeezes her breast while the other tries to sneak into her underwear. Providing they don't end up in a tangle of hands, Ronin's fingers will seek out her clit, rubbing and rolling his fingers in a rhythm as teasing as the one she's lavishing on his cock.
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
The hitched breath of surprise only spurs Sera on more, her attention given entirely to Ronin in the moment, a pure leaving her lips as his hand finds her breast, her body shifting just enough to help his other hand in its venture. She shifts her own arm enough as well so they don’t tangle, idle strokes along his length as the anticipation builds within her. The Star will find her slick when she finally takes the plunge.
A greedy moan slips into the kiss from her, her fingers stuttering in their motions on his cock, but she recovers enough to roll her hips against him, moving the hand wrapped around his neck to his chest instead, blunt nails digging into the skin. She pulls away from the kiss to press one to his stubbled jaw, shifting her weight so a leg can lift and press against the outside of his thigh. “What’re you waiting for, Ronin?” She purrs against his skin, letting the words fall from her lips like a lustful prayer, aching entirely.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
Gods, what was he waiting for? The purr in his ear draws out a needy grumble in response, words that are groaned against her neck, and his hand slips away to clasp the outside of her thigh to give it a playful squeeze. His agreement comes in the capturing of her lips anew, hitching her leg up that he might press closer, finding her hot and slick and ready. Ronin wastes no further time, rocking his hips forward to slip inside her, hissing in a breath and pinning her back against the door in earnest.
His strokes are slow and deep at first, as if to savour everything about a moment not looked for but sorely needed, until eventually his other hand drops to her hip, hitching her up so she might wrap her legs around his waist. "Fuck," he breathes against her skin, driving himself in harder, clearly not intending to waste any time.
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
Oh she asks what he’s waiting for, and she is rewarded. An answer is grumbled, groaned words against her skin that has her pressing against him wherever she can reach. And when his hand finds her thigh, there’s a huff of relief into the mix as she knows what’s coming next. He has her lips, however, but that doesn’t stop the sound that leaves her as he fills her, her hands abandoning his hips to run up his chest, to wrap them around his neck when she’s rocked against the wall.
He doesn’t have to ask twice for her to lift her other leg, to wrap them around him, her back arching with every thrust, breaking the kiss to catch her breath, to moan against his skin, pressing her hips back against his to drive him deeper, burning and very nearly whimpering words against his skin.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
Sometimes these itches just need scratching, and damn if Seraphina isn't turning into an excellent partner for it. Ronin's breath hitches as she arcs against him, meeting every one of his thrusts to ensure that he can go as deep as possible. This isn't sex - it's just fucking, and he's here for it. Anyone passing outside the storage room will almost definitely hear whatever stress the door is under, and y'know what? Ronin doesn't give a fuck.
Leaning in to press his lips against her neck, the Star leaves a bruising kiss as a feeling like fire races up the backs of his legs, as pressure builds at the base of his spine. His hands are a little full (and he squeezes her ass appreciatively, on that note), so he leaves it up to Sera to tend to her clit, if that's what she needs. In the meantime Ronin's thrusts grow harder still and more urgent, and they'll both know why.
it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in
She’s needed this itch scratched for a long time, too. Honestly, the true surprise comes from it being Ronin, a demigod of all people. She simply relishes in it all the more, arching against him, pressing herself against him wherever she can while simultaneously trying to get him to drive into her more and more.
He presses in a mark against her neck and she hums her moans against his ear, one hand lifting to tighten into his hair, burning against his more urgent pacing. And her free hand, as Ronin’s are occupied, slip to tend to herself — the hand in his hair aiming to tug his head back just enough that she could capture his lips with her own, to nip at his bottom lip as she drives herself with his help closer to that edge, her body tightening and bracing around him as the sounds that leave her grow louder and more desperate.
darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night? the colder the heart, the warmer the gun
Whatever Ronin is about to say is lost in the kiss she steals from his lips, morphing it into a moan at the feel of her around him, tightening and arching and making it all but impossible to hold on or to retain any kind of coherent thought. Sweat is beading down his back and his lungs are burning, but it's nothing to the feeling of his impending release. And when he does cum (and Sera won't have to wait much longer for that), it's as hard and wild as the rest of this encounter, the door groaning under the stress.
Panting hard, his breath hot and fast as it ghosts against the side of her neck, the Star can't help the throaty chuckle that bubbles up in his throat. He makes no attempt to move away from her just yet, mainly because he's not sure his legs will hold his weight at this moment in time. "I don't know about you, but I fucking needed that," he rumbles.
