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!
"Make them happy, Maeve. It's your job." The words ring in her ears as she selects one of her dresses from her small closet. "Keep them coming back, Maeve." She slips into the fine garment, tightening the bodice to hug her waist until her ribs press against the fabric snugly. "You're the best I have, Maeve." With a final look in the mirror, she adjusts her cleavage and affixes a choker around her neck before adding a swipe of color to her lips. The dark red almost startling against her pale complexion. The night is just beginning. Despite the fact that the sun hasn't sunk below the horizon. Not that it ever rose to begin with.
She doesn't bother with shoes. Instead choosing to leave her feet bare, the bangles she has on her ankles jingling faintly with each step she takes. Maeve doesn't owe the Madame anything. She paid off her debt long ago, but still, she stays. Why would she leave? This was the closest thing to a home she's ever had. Of course she stays. She stays and she works and she fucks and drinks and makes people happy.
With careful steps, she makes her way out to the main lounge, swiping a goblet of juice and scanning her surroundings for someone to entertain. Someone to make happy. That's her job.
He doesn't come here often. At least not for the sex. A drink, a meeting, those kinds of things. But tonight? He's not really sure why he's here. Didn't want to be home, kind of didn't want to be on the beach partying. So why not hit up the whore house, right? Maybe he'll get some entertainment or some information.
He's only a little bit drunk as he pushes into the brothel, handing the Madam a long golden chain. It's definitely finery but likely not enough to get him a private bed. That's fine by him. He seats himself at one of the little tables, leaning on one hand to look around the room. It's always so clean and breezy here. An outsider might almost mistake it something else. He's not sure but surely brothels in other parts aren't this clean. Or maybe they are. He really should start traveling.
Speaking of exotic places, he catches a glimpse of Maeve. She's petite, pretty too. He likes a man who can throw him around but he'll never say no to a woman he can throw around. He waves her over, "Can I get a menu and your name?"
Her eyes move from table to table, taking in the denizens who fill the open space, basking in the light breeze coming off of the water and through the open windows. The smell of the sea comforts her and she's lost in though as she sips her juice. It isn't until someone's voice calls out over the quiet din of the room that she realizes she was daydreaming. Maeve snags a menu from a nearby table, hips swaying as she approaches the gentleman who called to her. "Here you are, love. Name's Maeve... What can I get for you tonight?"
She pulls out the chair opposite of him, lowering herself into it and leaning one elbow on the table, giving him a nice peak of her scant cleavage as she shifts herself forward. The menu in his hand lists not only drinks, but services on the table from the girls with a nice little note at the bottom stating that bartering is still accepted.
He's cute. In that rough around the edges kind of way. They're always the most fun, she's found. They have the best stories and they're always so hungry. For drink, food, and flesh. They're some of her favorites admittedly. "What brings you in tonight? Besides a need for a drink."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
He takes it from her, pretending to look it over as he looks her over. She looks familiar but he can't quite place why. He must've seen her in the markets or something. Maybe he snagged something from her. Nah, he knows better than to mess with the brothel girls. He slides the menu to her, pointing to a drink and digging around in one of his many pockets, he pulls out a little ring, ruby encrusted. Pretty. "I want this and maybe your time. A chat?"
The prices for.. other things runs a little steeper than what he's got on hand. It's fine. But some more booze will help him loosen up. Not quite as well as sharing a bed with a beautiful woman but hey, relaxing is relaxing, right? Although, he's not really sure what to talk to her about. Longnight? What she thinks of the gods? Her favorite kind of gemstone? He'll figure it out by the time she gets back with his drink.
She's so used to the feeling of eyes on her that she almost doesn't notice, but she does. He's good at not being too obvious. She has to give him a bit of credit for that. Maeve holds out her palm, taking the ring from him with a signature smile in return. "I suppose I can do that." She doesn't look at the ring until she has her back to him, approaching the bar. Maeve can't resist slipping it onto her finger for a moment, admiring it with a hum. She passes it back to the bartender and places his order.
Only a few minutes pass before she's joining him again, pressing the drink into his hand and taking up her own goblet of juice once more. There is a strict policy of no drinking on the job. Maeve tends to take it more seriously than the others here. She takes a slow sip and lowers her cup, looking him over slowly, "So... What brings you into our lovely port...?" There is a pause, clearly an invitation for his name.
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
When she gets up to leave, he can't help but watch her, biting his lip. No! He's being a good boy. Or that's what he tells himself but then again he tells himself that right before he punches someone too. And she's here to be ogled, right? Like, she wants this? Or at least is okay with it? He runs a hand through his hair, waiting for her to return. When she does, he takes the cup from her, taking a drink as she sits.
It tastes pretty good. Not worth the price but it's fine. Then again things are rarely worth the price when most things are free. "Our port indeed. Been here since I was a little one." He leans on his hand, looking her over again, noting the choker and the shade of her lips. "What about you? Don't quite look like you're from around here." No name for her, not yet. Maybe she should ask. Or maybe they'll just keep this.. business casual.
Another hum pushes past her lips. A local then. He doesn't look familiar, but that doesn't mean much. Some people are good at blending in and she has a feeling he tries to blend in often. "Not originally. I've been here for a few years, though. It might as well be home now." She shrugs her slender shoulders. It's not a secret that she's not from here. One look at her and it would be clear that she doesn't have the same appearance as the other island dwellers or those who call the sea their home. She doesn't plan on adopting it either.
"So, tell me, why is it you come in to buy just a chat when you could easily find that on the street? People here aren't exactly unfriendly." She doesn't ask for his name. If he doesn't want to give it, that's fine by her. It doesn't keep her from doing her job.
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
He chuckles, taking another drink. He's not looking to get more drunk but to keep the buzz going. It's kind of his default state of being and that's fine. "Thought so. I'm sure that gets you even more clients." He can't quite tell how old she is. Younger than he is but he can't pinpoint her age exactly. He's curious though if she's been here for a few years.. He shrugs to himself. It's not his business. Her next question makes him full on grin.
"Oh come now. Surely you know as well as I do that the friendly folk out there are trying to swindle you. At least I get what I pay for here." He takes another drink, sighing softly as he puts the drink down on the table. The alcohol is warm and it soothes the dark thoughts that like to creep up in the back of his head during times like this.
Locke kind of leans back, the clear mask of confidence on his face fading for a moment as he looks at her. What.. What do they even talk about? His eyes flick towards the door and for a moment he thinks of leaving. But he paid for this and he wants his due.
"Do you want to play a game, Maeve?" The man gives her another crooked grin, trying to ignore the nervousness bubbling up in his belly. Another few drinks and he'll be fine. He just need to get over this.
Maeve shrugs her shoulders, rolling them before she relaxes back into her chair, "People like different. As far as their concerned, I meet that criteria. Sometimes that means more business." She takes another sip of her juice, regarding him over the rim of her goblet before she sets it back onto the table.
He's sizing her up and not being shy about it either. Maeve lets him, putting herself on display and basking in his attention. She's wearing one of her finer dresses tonight. A little number made of silk and lace that hugs her curves, highlighting her lithe form. Dark purple fabric with black accents compliments her pale skin, standing out in stark contrast. Her hair is loose besides a few braids at her temples that hold it back from her face, leaving the rest to fall in waves down her back.
His response earns him a genuine smile and she laughs, crossing her legs as she lounges in her chair. The movement causes the slit to part over her leg, exposing the creamy skin to his eyes before the fabric keeps her from showing off too much. "Of course I know that. I wasn't born yesterday. Everyone wants something from you. At least in here people are honest about what they want."
The silence would be awkward, but she's used to it. Especially when people don't know what they want. Locke doesn't seem to know what he wants and she can't help wondering what brought him in. "A game? Sure... I like games. What did you have in mind?"
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
She lets him look so he does, eyes following the line of her pale legs, tracing the edges of lace and only too curious what might be hiding underneath. When he looks up at her, there's the faintest hint of red across his cheeks, hazel meeting green. The man takes another drink, watching her over the rim of the glass before he leans forward, propping his chin up on his hand. "Let's play cards. But, winner gets a question. Loser has to answer honestly." Normally he'd bet in items but information is just as good, no?
He pulls out the deck of cards, setting them on the table, "Or we can play something else. Mostly just trying to figure out what's going in that head of yours." The flirting is fun but he kind of wants a real conversation. He's not sure what's okay and what's not though. Locke picks up the cards, shuffling through them as he looks her over. The flirting is kinda fun though, as basic as it's been. "Suppose I'd have to pay extra to play strip poker, no?"
Oh, isn't that adorable. He's actually blushing. Faintly, but it's there. Would he blush that much if they were alone? If he was seeing more than just a bit of thigh? Her mind is caught up in the thought before his words pull her attention.
Maeve arches a brow as she straightens up in her chair, moving a little closer to the table. "Cards, huh? Can't say I'm very good at cards. Never exactly figured out how to play so this won't be too hard of a win for you." She says it with a laugh, clearly not too bothered by that prospect. Hell, he could just ask a question right now and she'd give him an honest answer. There is nothing for her to hide. Not in this line of work.
"What's there to figure out, love? I'm not hiding anything." Maeve finishes off her juice, resting her chin in her palm as she leans her elbow against the table, eyeing him curiously. "That's definitely extra. A girl has to make a living. Surely you understand?"
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
He watches her as he shuffles the cards, letting the nervous energy dissipate in the repetitive motion. He clicks his tongue when she says she isn't good at the game. "Oh now, I'm sure you play just fine. I'm sure you girls do more than just sitting around and gossiping about who's client had the bigger dick.. Or at least I hope you do." He can't imagine working in a place like this. Not all the time anyway. He's.. done things for money but that's neither here nor there.
He deals out the cards, "How about this, we can just play... And take turns asking questions? Or you can just tell me about yourself. What kind of things interest you.. You have nothing to hide but I'm deeply curious about what's under all of that.. And I don't just mean your clothes."
Fuck, has he ever said this many words at one time to one person? He doesn't think so. How much has he been drinking? Maybe a little more than he realized. He takes another swig of his drink, content to keep drinking. No point in stopping now. He looks at his hand. Its good but she can beat him easy enough. He lays down the cards he wants to swap out, waiting for her. Normally he'd cheat but he's feeling nice today.
"Of course we do. We also talk about who has the sweeter cunt." She smirks and then laughs at his expression, eyes dropping down to watch his hands work over the deck of cards with ease. "In all honesty, I've just never had a knack for the game. I play, but not well," she meets his eyes again and straightens a bit as he starts to deal out the cards. He thinks she's joking, but she really isn't. Her poker face might be good, but her ability to play is questionable at best.
Maeve takes up her cards, humming softly as she organizes her hand, "Alright... That seems simple enough." She feigns surprise, brows raising and a mock gasp pushing past her lips, "You mean to say you're interested in me besides for my body? My, my, my... You really are full of surprises." Maeve says it with a purr, laying a few cards down and picking up some others.
"Alright then, I'll go first. What should I call you?"
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
He's only taken aback for a second. He wants to comment on being the judge of that but this really isn't his thing. He's only here because he wants away from the partying and the noise and all the people. He kind of chuckles, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure you always win. Too much? Probably not. She doesn't seem phased by anything he says. Which is good because he's chronically vulgar. When he wants to be.
He lays out his cards, showing her that he has two pairs. Nothing too fancy but still. "That must get old. Having to flirt and pretend to be interested in people who only care about your body." He couldn't do it. At least not long term. She seems so chipper but surely on the inside she's dying.
He raises an eyebrow at her, watching her for a moment as he mulls over how he should answer her. She didn't ask for his name, she asked for what she should call him. Which is preferable honestly. "You can call me Locke." There. Easy enough.
"Do you actually like working here? Right to the point he is.
