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!
Isla doesn't have empathy magic, but all things considered between them, it's hardly needed as they stumble away into the house together. She wants Remi in ways that have been slumbering deep within her, beneath layers of logic and mechanics that stifle such notions. But since there's no logic here, and since every nerve is on fire with sensations that have been sorely missed, that craving for him rears its head in ways that can only be considered primal in nature.
His hand slides against her flesh and she moans openly into their kiss, her body bending and pliable beneath his touch as if to better anchor herself against him. An awkward thing when Remi is trying to walk them down the hallway and Isla is trying to hook her leg around his hips, but she's sure he'll figure it out. He has to, because she's in no position to try. No, Isla is already attempting to strip off his shirt, to nip at his bottom lip (sans fangs, at present) and rock her hips against his.
"Remi," she whispers in the dark, and her tone alone - raw and desperate need - will hopefully deliver the message she wants to get across. It's only when she gets his shirt open that she forces herself to pause, her fingers carefully strumming across his skin. "Let me touch you," she mumbles. "Just for a bit. Gods--" And then she's kissing him again, heedless to disentangle from the alchemist.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
In one version of events, Isla stumbles in her backwards progress dragging Remi down with her, and it's there, on the carpeted floor, that he takes her. Currently though, Remi has reached a hand beneath her thigh, easily able to lift her one-handed that she might wrap her legs around him and let him do the walking. She feels both weightless, light as she is and grotesquely strong as he is, and also a terribly real and tangible thing in his arms.
She opens his shirt, some of the buttons helpfully falling off the material, revealing a mess of scar tissue and a body that she's examined many times before. Able to do little else other than moan his acceptance of her request before her lips are upon his, Remi moves toward until his knees find the edge of a chaise lounge.
"I haven't felt like this, in—" But he doesn't know. He doesn't care. This room, Isla, it's all perfectly too much. Even the fierce dissonance in his mind between this cramped erection and his desire to stretch this moment out is one he's happy to endure.
Leaning forward, his hands wound around her waist and shoulders, the alchemist is able to set Isla down onto the cushions as if she weighed nothing at all. Pulling back only enough so as to tug his shirt off, he moves to cover her with his body, letting her hands explore where they would. At least until it was his turn.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
There's a near purr of encouragement that thrums through Isla's chest and up into her throat as Remi does her the favour of taking away her need to walk. Her arms slide around well muscled shoulders, fingers twining up and into rich, messy curls, and her lips almost feel numb with their kisses. Of course it's precisely the opposite - lost in the throes of sensory overload, she drowns and luxuriates in the feel of him, and as Remi sets her down she mewls a protest to feel him leave her.
"Years," she hisses as he pulls off his shirt, her eyes nearly aglow in the dim light of the room. She hasn't felt like this in years, and when Remi moves to blanket her with his body, she takes full advantage of his generosity. Her hands trace scar tissue and musculature that she's only very recently examined in a medical context. But fuck that - this is for pure indulgence, and it isn't long before Isla's lips join in the exploration.
Leaning in, she leaves feather light kisses against the scars at Remi's throat and presses one hand against the starburst on his chest. Isla tracks every part of the Lullaby that she can get her hands on, from the soft skin beneath his ear right down to where his pants hug against his hips, to where fabric still traps his very obvious erection. "You're incredible," she whispers, barely hearing the words herself.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Isla might not have his shift anymore, but the predator in him can more than sense the lurking one that stirs in her bones. For all the Voice's upgrades and biomechanics, there is something so decidedly primal awake in Isla that he is tantalized by images of tearing open her body to reveal all the parts of her that are still flesh, and to liberate them.
Bracing himself with one hand against the armrest of the lounge to give her better access to his chest, his other hand is at a loss for what to do, where to touch, and how. If he lets himself be guided by pure instinct, he's sure to go rogue and wrong far too quickly.
Remi's laugh is more just a warm puff of air as he shakes his head above her. He isn't, in so, so many ways. "I'm sorry I never told you how beautiful you are." He murmurs, cheeks hot with heat. It's his turn now to trail kisses and touches down the length of her. From the rise of her cheekbones, to where her jugular would be, the hollow of her collar bone, halted only by her shirt. With gentle but skilled hands he reaches below her back to tug the fabric off, that he might continue the motion up the length of her to remove it.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"That's not something you need to apologise for," Isla says with a flash of a smile up at Remi that's quickly wiped away by the hot press of his lips to her skin. Her fingers still in their explorations, consumed instead by all that Remi is lavishing on her. "I don't know if it's something you need to say, either--" Cut off by the hands slipping beneath her, Isla's back arches that she might help the alchemist to strip her off.
There aren't bruises or scars on the medic's skin - likely a marked difference to what Remi is used to, regardless of sexual preference. But that is a difference too, and they both know it; Isla gazes up at him with a small smile, reaching up to brush his curls out of his face. Her hand moves, then, to capture Remi's, guiding it along the length of her body, over soft curves, the swell of her breasts, down to her navel.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
"Shall I show you what I think of you then?" Only it isn't a question, and the boyish phrasing is entirely undone by the roughness of the alchemist's voice.
Indeed as she pulls her shirt away, Remi's soft inhale says about all that he might try and awkwardly express about what he sees. Letting his hand be guided, Remi tilts his head slightly to take advantage of what little light there is, his eyes raking over her skin as his fingertips will do shortly. Her skin is soft, and though Isla by no means fat, there is a marked difference between touching her and touching someone like Ronin who is pure steel. One of her breasts perfectly pairs with the shape of his palm, and for a moment the alchemist loses himself in the sensation of her nipple against the sensitive skin of his hand.
"Its..." Remi watches their hands as they descend down the length of the medic's body, his lower lip caught between his teeth looking fascinated at the strange juxtaposition of their bodies together. "..been a long time since I've done this." He says it like it's some sort of admission, though Isla certainly knows about the years Remi spent trying to convince everyone he was straight.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"I was hoping you would," Isla says of him showing her, her voice dipping low, her fingers entwining with Remi's as their hands drift down the length of her body. She's as entranced by him as he is by the sensation, the medic catching every flutter in his expression as if it's something never before experienced. And it may as well be, at this point. "Same here," she reminds him, reaching up with her free hand to tilt up his chin that she might lean in for a kiss.
"It doesn't matter," she mumbles, arching against his touch and pressing further into his hands. "Just show me, Remi. I want you - all of you - right now--" It's as if whatever exquisite madness that's infected Isla has realised that things have slowed down somewhat, because the Ascended's lips part to let her fangs graze, ever so slightly, across Remi's bottom lip. "Please..."
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Breaking away from her lips, the alchemist opens his again to argue, but...well, she wasn't wrong. Remi couldn't remember Isla being close with anyone in Northaven, and her time in Caido was abruptly cut short.
'Well, you'll have to wait.' He rumbles, his voice dark. "Because while you've had your fill of tasting me, I haven't had the pleasure of tasting you." Splaying his hand across her stomach as if to imply that the arching of her back was futile (arousing, yes, but futile just the same), Remi slides his tongue over his lip and beneath her fangs, pressing up hard enough to draw more than a few beads of blood.
The hand on Isla's stomach lowers, reaching to unfasten the button of her pants as Remi ghosts down the length of her body. Taking care to stream kisses along the way, it's lucky that he's as good with his hands as he is. The buttons are undone, and though Remi might otherwise want to continue memorizing the unexplored plains of Isla's body, he is also quite aware of how the moment has slowed. Reaching his fingers against her hips, it's with a smile that's both boyish and roguish that he'll remove the last of her clothes. Underwear and pants together, and if she's wearing socks, he'll attend to them too.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
The taste of copper on her tongue is enough to drive her wild on its own, without Remi's roguish way of taking possession of her. "Promises, promises," she mutters, almost growling the words before her head tilts back to drown fully in the sensation of warm lips and rough hands. She wants to arch her back against him again, partially to just be a shit but also to offer up more of herself to his touch. With a shift of fabric and the feel of cool air against her skin, it isn't long until Isla is stripped naked before Lullaby.
Her lips part as if to say something, only for the words to fritter away to nothing as she gazes up at him. Heat pools in her belly, flushing her cheeks silver, and she has to resist the urge to simply pull him over her again. She wants to cover herself in Remi, to feel the weight of him, the smell of his skin and the heat of his breath against her neck. "Remi..." His name is almost a warning on her tongue, and there's something almost fae in the medic's eyes as she waits for him with a patience that won't last forever.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
"Yes Isla?" Remi wonders, his eyes dark and primal as he gazes up at her from his place between her thighs. While it's true that it has been a long time since he's been in this position, Remi's was always a diligent and careful mind. Even moreso perhaps because it helped keep his cover. Still, to suggest he'll be any good at this after so many years is perhaps a stretch. But gods if he isn't going to try.
"Tell me.." He muses as his hands move to reposition her, draping her legs over his shoulders and then resting on her lower back as if she were some platter upon which his meal was to be served. "..I'd heard that, multiple orgasms aside, the first is usually the best." With his hands on her, Remi would share in the experience of her climax, and so his question was entirely selfishly motivated.
With his eyes still fixed on hers, on the silvery sheen of her cheeks and the way her lips twist with unspoken words—curses, demands, pleas—he ghosts his tongue along the warm wetness of her lips, pressing inwards in a sweeping arc that he might come away with the full symphony of her taste. He knows enough to know that he'll have to migrate higher, that true ecstasy will be found a few inches from where he is currently concerning his efforts, but gods if it hasn't been a while since he's taken his time. With Ronin, ever since the night that began with Safrin's shrine, everything has been quick. A race in which they're both expert sprinters.
Growling against her, his lips vibrating with the rumble in his chest, his fingers tighten against her skin, drawing her up against his mouth effortlessly. 'The taste of you..' He moans against her, ravenous and predatory.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
He knows the answer to his own question, and whilst Isla can't hope to articulate her frustration and her need with words, she does narrow blue eyes down at the alchemist. It's an expression that morphs into surprise as he draws her closer suddenly, her legs draping over his bare shoulders, exposing her completely to his efforts. That's when her smile becomes a little wicked, and she gazes down the length of her body at the dark and predatory eyes that flash towards her.
"I would tell you," she says, her voice a velvet whisper in the dim light, "but no one has ever managed to give me multiple. Maybe you can change th-- ah--!" Cut off by her own moan of pleasure, Isla's hips roll into the sensation. Remi's tongue is a dilligent thing - by his own admission he isn't the best at words, but at this Isla can assure him he's not lacking in skill.
It's true that it might have been a while, but that goes for both of them, and the medic is already wet and ready for him, her fingers reaching down to twist into his curls. "Gods Remi," she hisses through her teeth, wanting to press him against her again. "More..."
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Isla will likely feel his smile as his tongue turns sharp and his lips peel back. He feels the rush and swirl of her emotions as they both lose themselves in this. The tension the alchemist feels against his waist reminds him that he might have done himself a favour and stripped off his own pants as well before beginning, but he'd not part himself from Isla now for all the world.
How she expects him to retain any sanity with her heels digging into his back and her nails against his skull is beyond him. His name on her lips and a desperation in her voice he's never heard before have him shaky with desire and reckless in his need. To say he devours her then would be misleading because his actions aren't without temperance. Even lions, starving on the plains with a fresh kill go about things a certain way, with a certain amount of skillfulness in their brutality. So it is for the alchemist.
Lifting her hips entirely off the lounge, his arms encircle her lower back with possessiveness that's echoed in the movement of his tongue. There are no barbed bristles just now, but that doesn't mean Remi's predatory instincts are any less active. He has the skill to flay flesh from bone; there should be no doubt at all whether he'll have the oral stamina to bring Isla to climax. The tension in her fingers and her stomach are one thing, the words on her lips another, but it's the rise and fall of her emotions that are the most instructive for the alchemist. The bright pang of frustration should his tongue stray too low, the need for a certain rhythm and when it should and shouldn't change—it's all there in bright colours, easier to follow than any roadmap. Moaning into her almost in tandem with her own sounds of pleasure as he benefits indirectly from his ministrations, Remi's only real downfall is his need to breathe.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Isla isn't a selfish person by nature, but in this particular moment she's utterly consumed by her own desires. It has been so long since she's been able to feel, and now with Remi between her thighs, with his tongue pressing against all the right places, she's so undone by his touch that it's laughable. Her moan is a breathless thing, soft and quiet at first, only to rise in volume as he finds his rhythm. He doesn't need the verbal encouragement, but gods if it doesn't feel good to give it anyway, and she arches up and off the chaise lounge as he guides her hips.
"Oh gods, yes--" She gasps, urging him on with her fingers in his hair, apparently forgetting that he needs to breathe and she doesn't. Not that it particularly matters any more - his tongue has found a sweet, relentless cadence against her clit and it's building pressure in her core that she's heedless to ignore. "Don't stop--!" Clutching him closer, her hips roll into him again, and the rising approach of her climax is punctuated in a siren song of his name.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
He sips air when he can, and if the world grows hazy from a lack of oxygen, Remi is quite certain that the woman between whose thighs he's currently engulfed can revive him. Then again, given that this was Isla, perhaps this could be the thing that killed him. It's funny how little he cares with his name filling the room and the taste, sight, smell, and feel of Isla drowning all of his senses.
Growling into her now, his fingertips slightly clawed and his curls more mane than hair, Remi doubles down on his efforts. The circles of his tongue grow tight and constant against her clit, his mouth covering her as if this particular orgasm can only bloom in the darkness. There has always been delight in making others cum of course, but never before has the alchemist felt such a sense of urgency, of need. If Isla were to stop him now, to push him away—or even to finish herself off on her own—he'd not only feel robbed of the sensations he might have shared with her, but somehow wronged as well.
He needed this, needed her in a way he was helpless to articulate—and not just because his mouth was already occupied. That Isla could now feel pain as well as pleasure doesn't factor in to the way Remi's fingers close on her skin in a way that will surely leave silvery bruises.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
