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 was probably weird (it was absolutely weird), but Adam found brothels to be kind of comforting. He'd grown up in them after all, his mother's profession never having been a secret to him as a child and the establishments used to housing various unruly orphan or bastard children.
Of course, he wasn't there for sex; even if he wanted to cheat on his husband, he'd struggle with his dick as limp as a depressed slug nowadays. Wasn't there to drink either, since that wouldn't do much of anything. Adam wasn't entirely sure why he walked in the door, but it had something to do with wanting the kind of conversations that these places fostered; casual, full of banter and light innuendo and most importantly, not heavy.
He knew he looked like a mess, body still beat up and scarred (though of course, his blood was fucking clear now, so all the wounds looked weird, like puckered material than skin) and his usual smokey eye blurred and rubbed all over. Couldn't bring himself to care much though as he wandered in and flopped down on the first comfortable looking chair he found, kicking his feet up onto whatever table was nearby.
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
She was having a slow week. Something was in the water, but it seemed all of her usual callers were gone for the season. The poor girl was lonely. Which made her the prime canidate for Adam this LongNight. If anyone was up for talking, it was her. He barely has a moment to settle before she's there, running a hand over his shoulder as she rounds his chair and drops herself onto the one across from him. "Copper for your thoughts, love?" Maeve coos, giving him a sweet smile as she props her chin into her hand. Poor man looked a fucking mess. That's all right. She was well versed in handling messes.
Maeve let's her eyes run over him, not hiding the motion. Everyone is open season when coming into a place like this. It's a place for looking and touching and fucking and sharing words with strangers. It never meant anything more than what it was.
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
The hand on his shoulder was to be expected; Adam looked up with a half-smirk, raising his eyebrows at the lady he saw. With her sense of style and dark hair and eyes, she was after his heart, absolutely his type. Shame really, about the whole Ascended thing, and the married thing; he swallowed the sigh and sat up in his chair, raising a knee to make his depressed posture more of a brooding pose.
"Dunno if it's worth that much, but uh, I just got back from the Grounds. Fucked up round this time of year." With no idea if she'd understand what he meant, Adam glanced up as he rubbed a hand over his mouth, knowing full well she didn't want to get into his fun trauma (he'd had his fair share of people oversharing when he was in this line of work) but unable to stop speaking once he'd begun. "Monsters and everything. Nearly died. Again."
His hands came up over his face to push back his hair and he let out a puff of hair, shaking his head. "I wish I could take you up on whatever you're offering, but my new Goddess who I'm very grateful to, blah blah, completely broke my shit so I can't fuck or drink or whatever."
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
Maeve let's him talk, listening to each word and tucking them away the way she does with everything people say to her. She hears so many things. So many secrets. People like to talk when they're high off of pleasure. She likes to hear them talk. Maeve cocks her head to the side, arching a brow at the mention of the Grounds and monsters. A girl like her knows nothing about it. Hell, she's barely left Torchline since she arrived all those years ago. "My... You really have been through the wringer then. Poor thing." It's admittedly a shame he's broken. You would think a whore got tired of fucking, but she doesn't and she hasn't had a proper fuck in ages it felt like.
"You can't fuck and you can't drink, but you can certainly talk," Maeve teases sweetly, offering him another smile that's meant to loosen him up. "I'm sure you know people come here for much more than a drink and a fuck. I can be whatever you want me to be. A person to hold, talk to, to confess your sins, whatever. That's my job, after all."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
"Yeah. There's...others had it worse. Shit, a guy I was with just fucking died like -" Adam snapped his fingers, unsure how else to communicate the way Edwyn had been there one moment and gone the next. He hadn't meant to get right into all the dark details, but they just came out of his mouth, tumbling away from him; Gods, he missed Pet.
He did laugh at her teasing, nodding and shrugging as he glanced up, well aware of how pathetic he had to look. Normally, Adam would have recoiled from letting himself be so vulnerable, but after the week he'd had? It was really the least awful thing that had happened to him. For a moment he fiddled with the edge of the chair, thinking everything over, wondering if he ought to leave before he made some kind of dumb mistake, but not having the determination to go sit in an empty room by himself anymore.
"Y'know, I used to do this job. For a long time, too. So I know I must look like a proper loser right now." He pushed his hair back and cleared his throat. "But okay. You got a room? I'll give you the easiest hour's pay you've ever gotten if you let me lay down on a proper bed and whine for a bit. Don't even have to see me naked." There was a wink, but it wasn't very heartfelt. "And I'd like to know ya name, even if it's a fake one."
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
Well fuck. He really has been through it. Hearing such things puts her life into perspective. She doesn't watch people die here. She doesn't have to worry about loss. Nope, not her. She must just be that lucky. "If you used to do this job then you know that the way you look doesn't matter. Loser or not. Besides, no need to be so hard on yourself. I'm not judging." Maeve says with a hum, looking him over one more time just because she can. He's cute. Dark, a little scruffy and scared, but handsome. There are worse ways she could spend her time.
She stands, extending her hand to him and pulling him up if he takes it. "My name's Maeve. It's not fake either," she crosses her heart with her free hand and leads him towards a door that hides the stairs to the upper levels of the brothel. It's a fairly short walk to her room and she fills the silence with a question of her own, "So what's your name, love? Figured I should ask given that you're about to warm my bed for a bit." His request really isn't all that uncommon. At least not for her.
Maeve pushes open a door at the end of the hall, closing it behind them once he steps inside. The furniture is done in the same bleached wood as the rest of the rooms, but she's replaced the white linens for ones of deep purples, reds, and blacks. A soft breeze drifts in off the ocean through the open windows and there are a few sconces casting the room warm light. Maeve toes off her shoes and flops down onto the bed, tugging him down with her with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable. I won't bite."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
"..Thanks." Even if she was just doing what she was paid to do, some kind words weren't going amiss right now. Adam took the hand and got up, walking alongside her to the room, clearly not at all conscious about any prying eyes, barely even looking around them as he headed after her with his usual slouched swagger. "Adam." He introduced himself soberly, quite the difference from his bold greetings of once upon a time, but he didn't have the energy to slip in the motherfuckin' before his last name anymore.
They stepped into her room, which was by all accounts much nicer than anything he'd ever worked in. "I am actually uh, married, I guess? I mean, I am. I'm just still getting used to the idea." Adam rambled as he sat down, took off his own boots (heavy, clunky things that made a metallic noise as they hit the floor, various buckles settling). "But I think he'd get it. I mean...he might...be dead!" Unable to quite face that reality, he tried to make it into a very unfunny joke, his voice oddly pitching up at the end of the sentence as if it would make it cheery.
Leaning back onto her bed with a sigh, letting her pull him down, he glanced up at Maeve and gave an apologetic chuckle. "This is probably a lot of heavy shit. Can you just tell me how your day, week, whatever, has been? You had any funny clients lately?"
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
His confession isn't exactly surprising. Not much surprises her anymore. The number of married men she's had in her bed isn't something she keeps track of anymore. Still, it seems important to him that he says it so she acknowledges it in turn. "You aren't the first person to tell me that and you won't be the last. However, rest assured when I say, other people who are married have asked me for much worse than a bed to lie in and a shoulder to lean on." Maeve soothes, giving him a reassuring smile as she props herself up on her elbow, laying on her side facing him. She reaches out, brushing his hair from his face with a soft sigh, "I'm sure he would... But let's not think about that, hm?". That wasn't what he asked her for anyway.
At his request she purses her lips, considering what she could share. "You would think that a whore would be busier during LongNight, but I haven't been. It's admittedly been quiet for me. People preparing to go back to sea. That's not exactly exciting though. Her bed has been empty and any funny stories she has to share of recent events are nonexistent. Maeve chews on her bottom lip in thought, "In all honesty, things have been quiet and I've been lonely. I don't get out all that much. I lead a rather boring life.
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
"Yeah, I know...marriage doesn't mean shit in a place like this." And honestly, maybe a little bit, that was why he was there. Not to betray Pet, but to be somewhere detached from his life and responsibilities, at least for an hour or so.
Adam closed his eyes as the hair was brushed away from his face, the simple contact comforting; after the heavy blows and claws of Longnight fights, it was sometimes hard to remember that touch could be kind. He listened to her talk, glad for something to focus on, his fingers tapping out random little rhythms on his chest until he huffed a quiet laugh. "I'd give anything for boring right now. Surprised though. I thought this time of year would be a boom for the business."
Maybe people were different in Caido than his old world, he supposed, but there any time there was downtime, or some kind of disaster people needed an escape from...well, he'd make a lot of money. "Are you from here, or somewhere else?" Adam asked, looking up at Maeve and trying to see if he could tell by observing, but he couldn't. "I...landed here a couple years ago, now." Then missed a year by being dead, but he left out that detail for now.
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
This was one of the moments she loved about her job. Watching the person she was with start to melt. The second they finally decided to let go and just be. It was different for everyone. For Adam, it seemed to be her fingers in his hair, so she didn't stop the motion. Instead she kept brushing them through the dark strands slowly, nails scratching at his scalp every now and again as she gazes down at him.
"It's not that it isn't busy... It is. I just tend to have a lot of regulars, I guess. Most of the time my company is claimed, but this week that just isn't the case." Maeve murmurs, keeping her voice soft between them as if she was the one confiding a secret to him. His next question wasn't a surprise either. People always asked that eventually.
Her lips curve into a slight smile and she wrinkles her nose, "Outlander... Why am I not surprised?" She coos the words and her tone is clearly teasing as she meets his gaze before actually answering his question, "I'm not from Torchline originally. I ended up here when I was about... fifteen, I think? I am from Caido, though. Born and bred. Not that I really consider that to be a good thing."
The woman takes a deep breath, looking towards the window for a moment, eyes settling on the distant bonfires dotting the coastline. "I ended up here and haven't left since. I don't believe I'm made for a world full of monsters. Things are much... simpler here."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
The stroking fingers in his hair were indeed very good at making Adam relax. With him and Pet, he was usually the one to initiate comforting touch, the one tracing fingers over skin or touching his husbands curls; it was nice to be looked after, even if just in such a small way, for a while. It wouldn't go beyond this; he knew the second anywhere else was touched it went into the realms of betrayal, but just this? He hoped he'd be allowed this.
"Regulars'r good, as long as they don't get too attached." Adam casually observed, thinking back to his own past clients. "You been to any of the parties going on out there then, if you're so slow this week? I've heard they throw some real ragers in Longnight here." Not that he'd actually know, what with his week forcibly having been spent fighting monsters in the dark creepy Labyrinth instead; he wished he could have been sipping a drink on the beach.
He knew he stood out and just laughed when she teased him, shrugging. "One minute I was riding my horse back home, then I was in a bar over here." Sometimes he still thought he might wake up back on that road, have to pick himself back up in his old life where he left off.
As for things being simpler in Torchline, he understood that well. In his world there had been revolutions, wars, none of which he'd taken part in; he favoured his own lifestyle of adventure, various substances to abuse and people to charm. "I get that. Is it good working here? If I didn't have the aforementioned fuckin' and drinkin' problem, I'd consider it." (Adam hoped she wouldn't say he was too old - he still had it, right? Right?)
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
His breathing was starting to slow. Getting deeper. Maeve let her own match his, propping her head in her hand as her fingers slipped easily through his tresses. Occasionally she would trace a finger across his temple or his jaw, but never further than that. Maeve hums softly, "They don't get attached. Most of them know better. Sailors and the like who always go back to the sea." She sighs, allowing herself a moment to linger on that longing that stirs in her chest for a moment. "I haven't been, actually. Probably should before they end for the week. Live a little and all that," Maeve huffs laugh, shaking her head for a second before looking down to regard him.
"No one ever really talks about how they end up here. I always wondered why, you know? I've never really understood if it just happened or if it was the gods doing or what. The gods were something of a confusing topic for her. None seemed to pay her any mind, but that didn't mean they wouldn't. They seemed to like mess with the lives of their darling accepted. Which, she was.
She nods at his question, lips curling into a slight smile, "I can't complain. It keeps my belly full, a roof over my head, and me out of trouble. There are worse ways to make a living. Maeve full on grins down at him, eyes shining with mischief, "You could manage. If you didn't look so fucking sad. Think you'd need to work on that first. Otherwise, you definitely have something people would like. I'd be a customer."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
The first time the finger touched his jaw Adam stiffened, old instincts around people touching his scars kicking in, but he let himself relax; he was so many years on now that the memories burnt less, and the touch still felt nice, even on the nerve-deadened skin of the marks on his jaw and chin.
"Ah. Yeah, I've heard about sailors. I was around the mountains, miiiiiiles from the coast, so had a lot of farmers or hikers." A lot of farmers daughters, desperate for experimentation they couldn't get in their boring little villages (and some sons, when they were brave enough). "I haven't gotten to any of the parties either, on account of the monster-fighting thing...maybe we could check them out together." Adam mumbled automatically, not really thinking about what he was saying; did he even want to go to a party, if he couldn't drink?
Actually knowing the answer to her question, he opened his eyes and looked up at her, feeling incredibly tired as he explained his fate (every time he had to remember he was now tied into all this God shit, he hated it). "The Voice brings people over, so they can be her minions or whatever. I guess she got me where she wanted to, in the end." Not that he'd really done all that much for her, nor did he intend to; sure, she'd brought him back to life, but like this? Buyer's remorse was quickly becoming resentment.
When she said he needed to look less sad, Adam put on a cheesy grin, fangs fully on show for a moment. "Better? I can do sexy and brooding too, not just miserable like right now."
good evening, misadventure.
farewell morality.
it's time for another risky venture,
into the depths of depravity.
Being in her line of work, she's seen all sorts of bodies. Some with burn scars covering majority of their skin. Knife wounds, claw marks, and everything in between. She had been with people who were missing fingers, toes, or whole limbs. Nothing phased her anymore. At some point, the scars stop defining the person and she's just left with them. It's the same right now with Adam. All she sees is him.
"Really? You would want to go to a party with little old me? My... I'm flattered," she purrs, giggling as she watches his lips quirk into something that might have been a grin if he committed to it. He doesn't. "I'd love to go. I'm not a big drinker myself, but I rather like dancing. Suppose we could find some sort of compromise." Whether these were just words or not were yet to be determined, but she thought she might actually like to go with him. As friends. He seems nice enough. Just a little tired and beat down. Maybe it could be good for them.
The bitterness in his tone is almost enough to sting. She doesn't take it personally. Instead she gives him an apologetic look, expression softening as she meets his tired gaze. "In my humble opinion, the gods are fucking dicks. Can't say I've ever had a reason to be fond of them," she huffs with a roll of her eyes, hoping to lighten the mood.
He's on the same track as her, flashing her a smile that's all teeth, but no less attractive. "Oh! Fangs and everything. Delicious." Maeve practically coos, reaching out to catch his chin and turn his head side to side gently as if giving him a once over before nodding. "Sexy and brooding indeed. A much better look if I do say so myself. One I tend to prefer," a wink punctuates her sentence as she lets her thumb brush across his bottom lip before returning her touch to his hair again. A safe place for both of them.
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off of knives
