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
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Locke.” She chimes, easily imagining that they’d cross paths again and truthfully? She’s quite excited for it, if today was any indication of their interactions. Still, she tells him she has an image to uphold and she hums a soft laugh to the way he clicks his tongue, the way he pouts. “It would be quite fun, though.” She purrs with an edge of flirtation, before she’s speeding up the walk home.
She tilts her head to him as they walk up the stairs toward her apartment, a soft smile playing on the edges of her lips. “You don’t dance?” She asks, wondering why. She certainly wouldn’t judge him by it, whatever the answer was.
His sly look is met with a batting of her eyelashes as she considers it, lips curling in a smirk once they’ve reached her door. “Might be as close to a wet alley wall we can get…?” She comments with a raise of her brow, unlocking her door and stepping in as she tugs him along with her. She turns back to the door to close and lock it, before she’s turning back toward him and smirks, even if the flush of the idea of what’s to come darkens her cheeks. “Shall we?” Comes her breathless question, glancing toward her room where her shower awaits.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
He wants to joke about making deals with him but he doesn't. Maybe another time. He's a little too eager for other things. Locke just gives her a grin, letting her tug him towards her apartment and hopefully her bed. Or her shower! Because that's a great idea even if he kind of came up with it. He's allowed to think he's had good ideas, yea? "Maybe somewhere more secluded.. Some day. After your stories."
"Was born with two left feet I think.. Got no rhythm unless it's in bed." He makes a point of adding the last part, just in case. Shower counts too but he doesn't elaborate further. Once they're on the other side of her door, he leans against it, fingers drumming lightly as he waits for her. It's only a moment more before he's being pulled to the bathroom. He's got a flush down to his chest and he's practically beaming.
"Don't gotta ask twice.. Do we need protection?" He's not against not using it but also he has a feeling having a kid with a random dragoon isn't high on her list of things at the moment. He nudges the door open himself though, as they get close to it. Was he supposed to take his shoes off?
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
“I’d like that.” She hums to him, already trying to pick the elusive secluded location as they make their way to her apartment. His honesty with his answer for not dancing does earn him a softer edge to her smile, a hum of a soft sound leaving her throat. “Perhaps you just need a teacher?” She suggests, her gaze lingering on his body just a bit longer before it travels up to his face.
But then they’re inside and the door is locked and she’s tugging him along with her toward the sprawling bedroom with cushions and pillows and comfort, toward a decently sized bathroom with a walk in shower connected to a nicely sized bathtub. She turns to him, kicking off her heels as his question is aired and the smirk she gives him is gentle as much as it is equally excited. “You don’t have to. I take something for it.” How else would she be able to do this so much without it? A child wasn’t in her very near future at the very least.
Once her shoes are kicked off, and hopefully his too, she turns on the shower and turns back to him, stepping closer and letting her hands trail across his chest to his neck, before her arms loop around him and she presses herself against him, should he let her. “A little help?” She asks sweetly, gently, the curve of her body accentuated by the cut of the blouse and the skirt she wears.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
The way she's looking at him makes his heart race. A teacher? Locke licks his lips, grinning at her, "I suppose.. I might be able to learn, with the right motivations.." He's practically purring it as he returns her glance. She's got a lot of soft curves and he can't wait to explore them. He wonders just how soft and unblemished she really is, if he can change that.
He's tugged through her room and he wonders if she'll let him crawl into her bed too. He's usually down for another round or two, if given the time to work things back up. It's like his special talent or something. He growls softly at her answer, hands finding her hips the second he has the chance to. "Love when I hear that." All the better to feel her, right? And gods, he can't wait to feel her.
He kicks his shoes off when she does, ignoring the loud clatter they make against the floor. Her hands are around his neck and her body is pressed against his and he loves it. She's warm and wanting and fuck. As he holds her gaze, he wants nothing more than to kiss her but that sick feeling bubbles back up. He takes a sharp, unsteady breath before grinning at her. "Of course.." His hands run from her hips to curl against the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head.
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
“I don’t suppose a reward like this might be enough to persuade you?” She purrs, her voice saccharine as she moves closer to him, shoes already in the process of getting kicked off, before she’s moving toward him, pressing against him so that the warmth and curves of her body align with his.
And honestly? She wouldn’t complain if he wanted to stay the night and treat her more. It might be nice to wake up in a warm bed with someone else for once.
She finds herself flushing again as he grins down at her. He’s quite charming, she finds, and she’s absolutely intrigued by how things may be similar or different when it came to those born in Torchline. Would he wish to devour her? To ravage her? Or would she be the one devouring and ravaging? She hopes it’s the prior.
“Me too.” She agrees softly, flashing him a small breathy smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t go higher while we were at the bar.” She presses her hips against him as she lowers her arms from his neck to make it easier for him to take her shirt off, and when he’s done with that she’s pressing against him again — hands finding the base of his neck and tangling her fingers into his hair. She wears a vibrant red, lacy bralette of sorts, one that shows off all her cleavage and curves, breasts pressed against him as she lowers one hand to tug at the hem of his own shirt, her warm fingers dipping under it to press against his skin. He’ll find that she hardly has any scars on her, but beneath the shirt she’s worn, a gear symbol tattoo sits on her arm.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
He looks at her, tilting his head in thought, "I might be convinced.." She tucks herself against him and he has to admit he wouldn't be against doing this again. It already feels like they're planning on it and while he's not entirely serious, he thinks he could be.
See, Locke goes both ways. He's happy to ravish or be ravished. He has a feeling it's going to be the former tonight and that's perfectly fine with him. He's always enjoyed using his mouth and she looks delectable. Especially with her shirt off. His fingers skim across her chest, palming her breast lightly before pulling her against him. Locke's hands run down her back before slipping over her ass. He grabs it firmly, growling softly as he pulls her against him.
"Is that what you wanted? Me to touch you in the bar? Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" He's got no image to keep but she does. Maybe he'd been too delicate with it. He tucks his face into her neck, nipping and kissing along her pulse as her fingers work under his shirt. Where she had smooth, unblemished skin, he had scars. Some are old, some are new, some are barely visible. Maybe one day he'll tell her how he got them.
But for now he's finding the zipper to her skirt, keen on getting it off of her. He only pauses to pull his own shirt off, dropping it onto the floor without much care. Honestly he might be a little over eager but it's been entirely too long since he's gotten laid.
There's beauty in all kinds of danger But none so beautiful as you
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
He might be convinced and that’s a quiet thought that has her smirking up at him, wondering what she might have to do elsewhere to get him to agree to it. For now, though, this is enough – leaning into each touch with catlike grace. “In that bar?” She purrs up at him, breathy and light as her tilts her head back to look at him. “We had a dark corner, we could’ve gotten away with it.” She flashes him a smirk, a challenge that gleams in her eyes that almost seems to say ‘perhaps we should try again sometime’, before his head is tucking into her neck and her head rolls to the side opposite, letting him explore the expanse of her neck.
Her hands continue their roam along his own skin, pressing and exploring against the scars that cover his expanse of tanned skin. He finds the zipper to her skirt and removes his shirt, and she’s wiggling her hips slightly to slip out of the skirt and let it fall over the curve of her hips. Her own fingers dip into the waistline of his pants, drawing around to the front to work at his belt, to palm at him while she moves onto the button as well, biting at her lower lip as she realizes what awaits her.
“The water’s warm enough…” She purrs to him, her voice taking on a crooning, honey dipped tone as she tries to remove the rest of his clothes from him as he takes the rest off of her, already she’s pressed against him, her breasts against his chest, her heartbeat already rising against her neck.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
Her challenge doesn't go unnoticed and he's happy to take her up on it. "Next time. We'll see how many stories you can get through before you're begging me to take you home." He returns her smirk with one of his own as they undress each other. Some part of him is always hesitant, nervous, about being naked in front of someone new. Especially when they're as sober as the pair are. The look she gives him is reassuring though. He forgets he's no long a half-starved twig.
He only pulls away from her long enough to strip down fully before encircling her in his arms again. His hands roam her back, hips, ass, whatever he can reach as he presses kisses into her neck. She tells him the water is warm and he's tempted to stay here but he pulls away. "After you~" He holds his hand out to help her as if he's not just doing this so he can see her ass. He's a man of simple pleasures and ass is top of the list.
"Do you want me to wash you or fuck you first?" He's never been much of a gentleman though.
There's beauty in all kinds of danger But none so beautiful as you
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
“That sounds like quite the fun challenge.” She remarks, working to tug his clothes off as he works at her own, until there’s nothing that separates them any longer than air. And her hands lift to run along his skin, over his chest and over his shoulders, rising up and up until her fingers curl in his hair at the base of his neck, a half smirk formed on her lips with the way he fully strips down. His hands run along her skin, his kiss pressed against her neck, and she half twirls when they step over toward the shower.
And yes, she gives him full view of her as she turns and pulls him along, her hand interlacing with his to pull him into it with her. Water dances along her skin, over her shoulders and pulls her hair down across her as she flashes him a Cheshire grin, her head tilting in a fraction of innocence despite the question that she’s about to answer.
Instead of immediately answering, she pulls him with her until her back meets the shower wall, where she pulls him against her and lifts a leg to wrap around his waist while her other hand runs along his hip and drifts further forward to ghost along the length of his cock. “I want you to fuck me first, Locke.” She breathes to him, peering up at him from beneath full lashes.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
The noise he makes when she pulls him into the shower is practically primal. If he wasn't hard before, he is now. (And he absolutely was before.) He practically stumbles after her as she drags him along. He only gets a moment to admire the way the water emphasizes her curves before she's pulling him against her. He would laugh if his brain wasn't screaming in lust. But her leg is hooked around his hip and her hand is trailing over his cock. He jerks lightly at her touch, a soft inhale.
Of course she made the first move. He's been dancing around this all night, unsure of how much to push and pull. But she wants him to fuck her so that's what he'll do. There's half a second before his hand slips between them, lightly moving hers away. He gives her a little look, holding her gaze with is own hazel stare as he lines himself up. Another pause, her last official out before he's pressing into her. He groans, trying to hold her gaze until he can't, burying his head into her neck.
"Fuck Sera.." It's been entirely too long since he's done this with anyone and she feels amazing. His fingers dig into the soft skin of her thigh as he starts a slow pace. The water is hot against his back but somehow she's burning him up.
There's beauty in all kinds of danger But none so beautiful as you
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
There’s something to be said about the power of a position like this, of the sounds and twitches she can draw from him. It spurs her on even more as her voice drips with honey toward him, muffled only by the sound of the water cascading across their bodies. He moves her hand and the hand slides up his chest toward his shoulder, the other hooking around his neck as she tucks her leg around him to keep him near — not like she imagines he’d stray far, of course.
Their eyes meet and her dark gaze meets his hazel, waiting with baited breath for him to press into her, and after what feels like an excruciating amount of time, he dives in. He groans and she whimpers, adjusting herself a fraction to take him. Her back arches a bit, hips pressing back against him to take him further, before he’s setting a pace with a hand that’s pressed in enough to leave marks along her thigh. It only spurs her on more, her fingers tightening in his hair while she tightens around his cock, soft moans leaving her throat as she lifts her chin for him to bury his face against her neck some more.
“Gods, Locke…” She moans, hips lurching against him as her back presses against the back wall of the shower, as her heel digs into his back to help keep him drive himself deeper and deeper.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
The heat of the water on his back pales in comparison to the heat of her as he sinks in. The little sound she makes and the way she tightens around him is everything he could ever want. He bites at her neck, sucking a light mark just over her pulse before trailing kisses to her ear. "You feel amazing, Sera.." And she does. Especially the way she seems to almost fall apart in his hands. Something about such a strong, independent woman being so wanton, just really does something for him.
His pace picks up and he makes a point of driving into her. She can handle it, surely. A little soreness in the morning never hurt anyone. He's not particularly big or anything but still, he gets the job done, or at least he hopes so. He presses more kisses along her jaw, sprinkling in little nips along the way. He stops just shy of her mouth, hesitating. He should kiss her, right? He came to Stormbreak to change, to do something different. The old Locke is dead, right? Out on a beach somewhere. He's so close but the sick feeling comes back and instead of kissing her, he switches sides, sucking marks there. She can cover them up later.
There's beauty in all kinds of danger But none so beautiful as you
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in a masquerade, you'll hide your face
His words are met with another quiet whine, a chime of a moan that echoes off the tiled walls of her shower — uncaring how loud she is, given it’s her apartment and her typical activities weren’t a secret by any means. One of her hands digs her nails into his shoulder as he picks up speed, the other rising to tangle in his dark hair, keeping him against her skin as he drives himself into her deeper and deeper, rising the start of the burn within her.
Her back arches with the marks sucked into her skin, her hips bucking against his. And when he shifts his head to press more marks into her skin, both met with a quickened pulse and sharp edged moans that leave her. She dives toward him, then, tucking her head against his shoulder to leave a mark there, to leave another along his neck, before dotting it with kisses soon after, panting against his neck. “Faster…” Her breath rakes in quickened bursts against his skin.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night holding close their sharpened knives
Her nails bite into his shoulders, bringing sharp focus to the mental haze of lust that's currently clouding his mind. The mark she sucks into his skin does too. Fingers press into soft skin, potentially leaving marks for her to find the next day. Her request only spurs him on further and he does as she asks because he's secretly into that kind of thing. "So needy.." There's a husky timbre to his voice as he picks his pace up.
He's not going to last too much longer at this rate but the water is starting to get colder anyway. As long as she finishes before he does, he's cool. Not that he's against going again, or a few more times. He has a feeling she wouldn't be either. One of his arms slips under the leg still holding her up and he hoists her up so he's holding her against the wall. As long as he doesn't slip, they'll be fine, and he feels like he's got pretty good purchase. The angle lets him get deeper and he groans, feeling the way she flutters around him. He's missed this.
There's beauty in all kinds of danger But none so beautiful as you
