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!
What good are hands if there's nothing that they hold
The bed is warm and soft, the body next to his is small. That means it isn't in Ronin's room he's woken up, but not Finn's either. It takes his mind a moment to orient himself, and to remember why it is he's waking up somewhere new in the first place. It's true that he's now unintentionally woken up in Finn's bed more than once, and Ronin's more than he can count, but this was intentional. This was...
..Amalia.
Remi's hand, which had been wrapped around her hip, suddenly pulled back. Ronin and Remi sleep completely intertwined with one another; so it is that the alchemist had found himself nearly always spooned up against whoever he found himself next to. Quickly shifting himself back—the awkwardness of morning wood and all that—the alchemist clears his throat, hoping it would be the sound that woke Amalia up, rather than his body suddenly pressed around her.
And what good are hearts if you bury them all alone?
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
no amount of guilt can change the past && no amount of anxiety can change the future
Amalia has never been a heavy sleeper, but she is a dreamer. The arrival of another in her bed is more than enough to pull her somewhere between awake and asleep, vivid images leaving her disoriented and dazed. She'd been somewhere else, with someone else, though who or why eludes her. A man wraps around her back, his hand on her hip (whose hand on her hip?), and she gets the impression of dark curled hair and stormy eyes and an urgency as the familiar-yet-not sensation of desire presses to her thighs---
She realizes what's happening almost in the same moment Remi does, whatever dreamy desire she might have been feeling abruptly and utterly falling away, replaced by flustered embarrassment. Pulling back from Remi as though his dick might catch her on fire, Amalia is swift to roll up into a sitting position, a blanket pulled protectively (and pointlessly - she's wearing pajamas) over her chest. "I- you- Vi's beard, Remi, you scared the lights out of me!" the Archangel sputters through her laughter, relaxing while simultaneously covering her hands with her face, both to protect his modesty and to cover her own bright red blush. "There's clothes on the chair next to the bed- tell me when you're decent."
What good are hands if there's nothing that they hold
Modesty? Ha.
"I did warn you." Remi protests sleepily, running a hand through his curls to push them out of his eyes. 'And it isn't anything you haven't seen before.' Indeed, she had lived with Remi and Ronin for a season. True, this was absolutely the most 'intimate' the two had ever been together—unless nearly killing one another in the ocean counted, and honestly, it probably did—but still Remi wasn't phased.
"I like to think I'm almost always decent." The alchemist argues with a roguish grin that Ama likely won't see from behind her fingers. Still, he boyishly scoots his way to the end of the bed and then off of it. He sees the clothes Ronin has left for him and smirks. In addition to a sweater and pants, there are underwear with a garish gold waistband and hearts on them, and a scarf from one of their first re-dates.
Tugging the shirt on and doing up his pants, Remi decides against the sweater (Torchline will still be warm, even during LongNight), and balls the scarf up in his hands. "Okay, I'm good. Also...sorry." The alchemist chuckles and shrugs. All things considered, morning erections and unsolicited snuggles aren't the worst things.
And what good are hearts if you bury them all alone?
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
no amount of guilt can change the past && no amount of anxiety can change the future
"You're never decent," Amalia counters immediately, her voice still muffled by latent giggles and the hands over her face. At this point she keeps them up more for show than anything; it's true she's seen both he and Ronin in the nude more than once, but the bizarreness of feeling Remi's erection continues to buzz against her mind. Let alone her own reaction, which feels incestuous and unsettling now that she's awake.
Only when Remi announces his readiness does the Shield peek out from behind her fingers, her hands falling away when his readiness is confirmed. "No you're not," the girl mumbles as she pulls herself out of the bed, only to throw her arms around Remi's shoulders the minute her feet touch the ground. "You're awful," Amalia mumbles against her friend's neck, squeezing tight with arms that carry a faint coating of lilac scales, her leopard tail swinging happily and betraying how delighted she is to see the Lullaby. "D'you want coffee or tea before we head out?"
What good are hands if there's nothing that they hold
'Well, then what's the point of telling me to tell you when I am?" Remi asks as he laughs, trying to tame his curls by combing them with his fingers. He's only mostly successful in this. Luckily for the alchemist, complicated feelings about Isla aside (and that one time with Rexanna), he's never felt anything for any woman he's been with or near, no matter how compromising the situation (precisely like the one he'd been in, with only a thin stretch of fabric between Ama's thighs and his needy morning erection).
"Mmm?" Remi glances down as if he had actually missed something when he was getting dressed, only to find his arms suddenly full of Amalia. Snorting into her uncombed hair, the alchemist returns the gesture, grinning into her shoulder.
"Excuse me, I would like the muffins I requested." He retorts haughtily once his arms have released her.
And what good are hearts if you bury them all alone?
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
no amount of guilt can change the past && no amount of anxiety can change the future
She almost pouts up through the curtain of tawny hair, but there’s too much laughter in her eyes for it to have any effect. It’s ridiculous, of course, to be this delighted when she knows that’s coming next, but Amalia cannot help it. Ever an introvert, she hadn’t realized how precious her social circle was until she lost it. Once she had chafed at living in a wild household filled to the brim; now she aches for a return to that normalcy, her quarters gaping and empty by comparison.
But enough of that. “Ye of little faith,” the not-Shield teases gently, disentangling herself from the hug to pad off to the kitchen. “I’ve got some I made up last night - let me stick them in the oven for a minute to warm up while the tea brews.” She’s bustling eagerly, her back to the bedroom and Remi both as she prepares their pre-Shrine-destruction snack. ”How are things in the Greatwood?” Amalia wonders as she works, the kettle now settled onto the stove. ”Any pushback from Wessex?”
What good are hands if there's nothing that they hold
"Its..." Remi considers for a moment, trailing off as he shrugs. "..lonely. It can be hard being around Ianto all the time with all the history between us. Oliver has moved to the Woods as well, but for the most part, it's like living alone." Alone with a toddler, living with a man he'll always be sexually attracted to, on the border of an area he's all but banned from.
Before he might say more—about Isla, about his dream magic and how it has helped—there is the sound of a beak against the windowpane. Turning, Remi spies a raven, raising a brow in its direction. With Amalia fixing their tea, the alchemist goes to open the window, understandably assuming the note the bird carries is for the Archangel.
But it's his name writ upon it.
Opening, the alchemist's entire posture changes. He stiffens, he stands straight, his curls dissolve into feathers. "We're going." He says in a voice that's grave, but urgent. Glancing up, he storms across the room, dousing the flame for their tea and the heat from the stove. "Now." He'll explain later. For now, he reaches out for Amalia drawing her near, and instantly she falls asleep, with the Lullaby close behind.
~FIN
And what good are hearts if you bury them all alone?
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
