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!
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
“Oh no!” She chimes as he tells her that she’s guessed wrong, a bright laugh tittering out of her as she settles with the drink in her hand, waiting for the rest of it. “Maybe they thought it was full of really big fish.” She suggests, looking him up and down with another wide smile of amusement before she covers it with the glass. “Did you lose the booze?” She asks, curious if the item that had started the story had ever managed to make it out and back.
“I’m glad you didn’t drown.” She offers after a moment, spinning the glass on the counter, flashing him another soft smile when he finishes his drink and she looks past him to catch eyes with the bartender to order another round, lifting the glass to her red lips again to down the rest of her own as well. “Oh no, don’t apologize. It was quite riveting.” She hums, sitting back in her seat as she regards him. “Those are my favorite stories.” She offers him with another soft laugh.
Her head tilts a fraction as she scans his face. “I was never too rebellious growing up. I have to indulge myself sometimes.” She offers with a crooked smirk.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
"It did! It wasn't even that good." He barks a laugh, shaking his head. Stealing stopped being about the need a long time ago. He does it because it's fun, bad consequences and all. "M'glad too. Wouldn't have met you if I had." He gives her a little wink as his fingers drum against the table. "M'glad you liked my fish story though. It's probably one of my better ones. I think I still owe you one more?"
"I don't think I ever stopped being rebellious. If anything, joining the dragoons was the ultimate act of it." Well, not really. But it's a big part of it. The bartender brings their drinks and Locke hums softly, taking another drink. "What's it like growing up here? Did you go to school?" Probably. She seems so smart. It's almost intimidating. That said, she seems to be enjoying him. Maybe he's just another act of rebellion for her. He thinks he'd be fine with that.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
She chimes her laughter with his as he admits it wasn’t good booze anyway, but with a story like that she’d still have drank it out of pure spite. “All that work. What a shame.” She chimes in amusement, tilting her head toward Locke with a glimmer of amusement in her dark gaze, hair sweeping off her shoulder with the movement. “You do. This ones your choice though.” She flashes him an easy smile, turning to face him in her chair a bit more fully, leg brushing against his once more.
“Why is joining the dragoon’s an act of rebellion?” She asks, complete curiosity in her gaze as the drinks are delivered and she sweeps up the new glass in her hand to cradle between both of them, her attention fully on him.
He asks of school, though, and she smiles a bit nostalgically. “I did go to school here. My family is a… High class one. Got all the best opportunities and I worked quite hard to become a part of the Order. I was one of the youngest ever to join when I did.” She brags a bit, her hand twirling in the air as if she’s showing off her charm with it. “It’s been fun, though. As much as talking to walls can be fun.” She tacks on playfully, with another laugh leaving her throat.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
When her leg bumps against his, he grins softly. Mostly to himself. The casual ease of their flirting is great. He shift his leg, fully pressing it against her's. Would it be a bit too bold if he lightly touched her leg? Maybe. Locke's never cared about seeming too bold though. He takes a sip of his drink with one hand, the other snaking under the table to find her thigh. He's still gotta mull over another story but they're just talking casually right now. He can handle that. "Why? Mom was a whore and dad was a criminal. Kinda feel like being a dragoon is.. against all of that. Was a brothel brat." Like most Torchers really. Not a nice one like the Halenani though.
Of course she had a high class family. Everything about her drips class. It's amusing. "Yeah? I can tell. Seem pretty smart, hard working. They'd be stupid not to take you." Not that he knows anything about The Order of course, beyond what she's said and the little things he's gathered from other recruits. When she shows off her charm, he leans forward to look at it. "I think Ronin had something like that? Does it mean you're part of The Order?" He stays there partially because it gives him a good view of her chest and partially because it's an excuse to be closer to her.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
Her head tilts toward him as he explains why it was a rebellious move. And she supposes she can understand – going from a criminal to a soldier certainly was a different move. One that Sera can’t relate to, but she nods her understanding all the same. She focuses on the way one of his hands slips below the table, though her attention remains on his face – feeling the warmth of his leg as it presses against hers, and she offers a soft smirk hidden behind her glass at the feel of his hand on her thigh.
She doesn’t pull away, though. In fact, she might sidle a bit closer while she speaks. “I am.” She chimes flashing him a small smirk, before she’s taking a sip of her glass, showing off her charm. And when she withdraws from it, she remains in that same position, angled toward him to give him the perfect view he seeks. “No, not entirely. This one was just a treat for myself after I got in.” She flashes a wink, setting in again to explain further.
“I spend a lot of time in my workshop alone, therefore sometimes the walls get a lot of conversation.” She offers with a soft laugh, head tilting up slightly to peer at him with her dark gaze.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
She doesn't move away and he takes that as a good sign. Not that anything she had done tonight would have led him to think otherwise. His thumb smooths over the soft skin there, content to stay there. He doesn't need to press any further, not yet. And it might not be a good idea in the bar.. Although she might be down for a little teasing.. A little pre-gaming as it were. "It's very pretty, your charm. Always good to treat yourself." He loves treating himself, especially to beautiful women. He just wants to leave now but he owes her another story.
"Sorry you only had walls for friends.. I'm pretty sure I've gotten high enough to talk to walls.." He nods, sagely, as if he's giving her some kind of advice. He's not. Except maybe not to get that high. He takes a drink with his free hand, giving her a little grin. "So that second story, you ready to hear it? It's got ghost whales in it." Locke wiggles his eyebrows at her, grin spreading with a laugh. It's not a very good story but he likes it.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
His hand remains there, his thumb brushing along the skin of her thigh and she doesn’t move away from it. No, in this little dark corner of theirs, things are easily missed to any onlookers. But she’s a regular here, nobody looks twice at her anymore anyway. So she remains there, flashing him a bright smile of agreement when it came to treating oneself.
A soft chime of laughter leaves her at his admission, and she turns a bit to focus on him a bit more – her leg sliding a fraction under his hand as she adjusts her body to face him. At least it might give him a bit more room along her skin. “That sounds like a bit of a story if I’m being honest.” But the subject of ghost whales has her flashing a brighter grin.
“Tell me about the ghost whales, Locke.” She hums to him, reaching out with her hand to run her fingers along his chest, letting her gaze drift from the path her hand takes, up this face.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
The way she moves let's his hand splay out more on her thigh. It's just more skin for him to touch and maybe mark up later. He draws lazy circles on her skin, working his way up a tiny bit at a time before pausing. He keeps this up off and on, curious how far she'll let him get. Especially now that her hands are creeping across his chest.
"When I was little, my mom took me out to the cliffs to watch the Cloudmantas during their migration. It was actually really cool. It was just before monsoon season too, so all of the sailors were leaving the port. Suddenly, I heard this rumbling sound, I can't even explain it. I could feel it in my chest..." His hand creeps up further as his gaze meets her's. "Suddenly there was this.. I don't even know how to explain it. But a massive ghost whale came up out of the water and capsized on of the ships. I'd never seen anything like it.." Locke shakes his head, "It was surreal. Like a giant skeleton rose out of the ocean but.. They're not.. I'll never forget it." He remembers the sounds too well to forget.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
She tries to imagine what kind of marks and designs he draws against her warm skin. His hand sweeps up and up slowly, tentatively in some aspects, though she doesn’t stop him. Nor would she, with the angle they have here? It’s just them in a dark corner at a table and she’s facing him. So she focuses on his face when he speaks, letting the alcohol burn with everything else within her as the flush grows along her neck and darkens her cheeks a fraction.
She’s captivated by his story, though, evidenced by the smile on her face and where her hands continue to travel up and up the panes of his chest to his shoulders, spreading her fingers out along them. “Wow.” She comments, breathlessly, letting the smile falter a fraction for the seriousness of what occurred. “That’s incredible. Awful for the sailors, of course, but… Wow.” She breathes, letting her brow pinch a fraction as her head angles toward him and her hands still. “Have you seen a ghost whale since?” She finally decides, her hands moving again to run down his chest now.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
Her faint flush is matched by his own. He'd never admit it but it takes very little to get some color on his cheeks. As much as he tries not to wear his feelings on his sleeve, he tends to fail. Not that he's been hiding his flirtation with her of course. Even if it falters for a moment with his story. Maybe he should've told her about something sexy he'd done. But that seemed out of place too. Oh well.
"I doubt there's a sailor out there who doesn't understand the risks. I wonder if the ghost whales realize that most of the ships go out around that time.." Would it be bad to say they probably purposely hunt during that time of year? He doesn't bring it up and he's not smart enough to have any real answer. "I have, a few times. They say seeing one means bad luck but I spent most of my time on the beach back in Torchline.." He's still got the lingering tan to prove it. That might just be the color of his skin honestly.
Locke finishes his drink and sets it down. "Well.. Ready to go?" Does she owe him a story? He doesn't remember. She can tell him later. His hand is as far as he dares to go without talking to her before hand. Even if he's only a few fingers away from the prize. "Sorry if it seems like I'm rushing.. I'll admit it's been a minute.."
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
Oh, she can see the flush that colors him too, and part of it is certainly something she’s pleased about. But he’s offered her a story and she clings to it, offering her own quiet question in response. Truthfully, she doesn’t know the answer to that either. She doesn’t know how intelligent those ghost whales are, nor have they ever particularly come up in the things she crafts. “That makes sense.” She offers him easily, pulling her hands away from him to reach for her drink to finish it when he does.
“Ready when you are.” She purrs to him, moving to stand, pulling out the payment for the drinks and flashing a wink to Locke as she leans across him to place it at the edge of the table. Straightening up, she reaches for his hand – the one that was on her thigh. “You’re not rushing. I got my stories and showed you the bar.” She hums, moving to step around him and guide him toward the entrance. “Back to my place?” She asks, brushing up against his side with a playful smile.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
She doesn't seem too pressed about his eagerness to leave, which is great for him. She takes his hand and he laces their fingers together, thumb smoothing over her's. He hesitates a moment before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. It's a little softer than he'd like but he's just feeling it at the moment. "And it really is a nice bar. We'll have to come back some day, maybe you can tell me a story or two."
And then they're heading to the door, "Yes, please. Unless you're content with an alleyway wall.." It's kind of cold and maybe a little wet but she can wear his shirt or something so her clothes don't get messed up. Or they can go roll around in her bed.. That sounds fun too. He's not drunk but the faint tingle of being buzzed lingers in his belly as they walk, mixing around with the lust.
"What do you wanna do, when we get back to your place? Besides each other?" They've both been kind of coy about it all night and he's over that.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
His thumb smooths over hers and she flashes him a softer tinged smile when he kisses her knuckles. It’s unexpected but nice, and as they begin to make their way toward the door, she hums her agreement easily into the air between them. “Two stories for the two you told me today?” She suggests. But by the time they make it to the door and his next question airs, she can’t help the smile on her face from growing a bit more playful, more catlike. “Mm well, would be fun but I do have an image to uphold.” She offers, gesturing to herself again with her freehand, a half bow as if she’s introducing herself again.
The walk is a little bit faster than before and while they walk, she keeps her hand within his, heels clicking across the stone of the walkway beneath them. “Besides each other?” She makes a show of thinking, before her gaze edges a bit more mischievous when she looks back at him. “After a long day of training and work, laziness sounds good. I’ve got ice cream and music.” A hum of a laugh leaves her as they turn into the Tower and start to move up the stairs.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
He nods to her suggestion, "I'll buy you the drinks and you can tell me the stories. Can't say I'm not curious about life in Stormbreak." And it's an excuse to spend time with her. Even if he feels like he doesn't really need an excuse. He likes her company though and she seems to like his and he'll take that. He clicks his tongue, pouting, when she rejects his suggestion. "An image. Hah. Well, I'll be careful not to ruin it." Even if he kind of wants to.. Maybe he can settle for ruining her dress instead. She can fix it, right? If he tears it apart?
He notices her quickened pace and he's not upset about it. The faster they can get to her place, the faster he gets laid. And maybe some ice cream too. "Oh, ice cream. I love ice cream. Haven't had it in ages though. And music sounds nice as long as you don't expect me to dance. I do not dance." He says it very matter of factly. Because it's true. "Maybe a shower? Could help you get all that sweat off.." He cuts her a sly look as they climb the stairs. When was the last time he was this excited about something like this?
