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 thought so," Isla says, glad to tie that part of the conversation off with a bow. No need to think of tigers shredding your arm to pieces and rolling you under a hedge for centuries, not when there are god-blessed rooms and the chance to get hammered. Right? Right.
Still, as she glances back at him (cheerful and energetic again, and Isla barely has a chance to hang on for the ride), a flush suffuses her cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, smacking his arm for good measure; it doesn't matter, it's the metal one.
But then suddenly he's leaning in closer, and she's not quite leaning away. Still, her blue eyes narrow a fraction. "Don't be crude," she quips. "I have used it twice, no more, no less. Everyone has needs."
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
“You sure?” He quips back to her quickly, keeping the amusement on his face to hide everything else. It was far better to focus on other things rather than the exhaustion of detailing where his life had gone the previous three centuries. He’s content to sit here and focus on the ability of drinking, of feeling, of fucking — all of those far more appealing than the simple idea of thinking back on his woes.
So he remains close, even as she bats at his metal arm, and Varus does nothing but let the smile on his face grow a bit crooked and boyish. “Me? Being crude? It couldn’t possibly have been me.” He feigns some offense, but he can’t find himself pulling away from her either, not as he notices she isn’t moving back either. So he decides to shoot his shot, to swallow down the dampening conversation of earlier, as his good hand rises to brush back a piece of her still damp hair to tuck it behind her ear, scanning her face again.
“Tonight was fun, Isla. Thank you.” He murmurs to her, recalling that they have indeed decided to go on a date and so what if this is the wrong order for everything. He only hopes it doesn’t make things weird between them as the hand by her ear moves to run his fingers along her jaw, should she let him, and hopes she hasn’t read him wrong as he leans in for a kiss.
"Quite sure. You won't catch me creeping around in an Ascended sex room on the first date, thank you," Isla says with a smile that's warm and cool at the same time. She half means it; as a former duchess, there are certain bits of etiquette instilled in her, regardless of how much she might dislike it. Then again, with war on the horizon and (to be frank) barely a minute in the day to enjoy herself, especially when it has to be in a specific room... why the hell not?
Her raised eyebrows ought to tell him everything about her opinions on his being crude, though in all fairness, she doesn't think he's been anything but polite since they met. "You could sell snow to Halovians, couldn't you?" she murmurs, her head turning a fraction as she catches the flesh and bone of his good hand out of the corner of her eye. It's a prelude to every corny romantic novel they've probably ever read, which should hopefully explain the smile on Isla's face.
"I had fun too," she murmurs, glancing back to his face as his fingers whisper across the line of her jaw. And she's ready, when he leans in; not wanting to ruin the cheesy romance of the moment, Isla's kisses are soft and sweet, despite their talking about a literal sex room. She curls her fingertips in the front of his shirt as if to hold him there in the moment, letting out a sigh she doesn't need against his lips.
"It was the wife," she murmurs wickedly, as they part. "In the novel, at the end. I thought I'd save you the heartbreak."
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
A snort meets her decision of creeping around in an Ascended sex room on the first date. It’s a fair choice and truthfully, it hasn’t changed any of Varus’ plans for their first date anyway. He was quite charming but even he liked to think he was considerate of things. So he flashes her an equally easy smile, nodding in agreement – even when she comments that he could sell snow to Halovians. That brings a hum of a chuckle out of him, now that the darkened edges of his past are now safely hidden under the rug. “That’s one thing I haven’t tried to do. Might be worth a shot to see if I could.” He admits, a crooked smile flashing along his face that’s tempered only by their closeness, by the way that it falls under the very same scenarios of those books that they tended to read.
And of course it’s cheesy, but it makes for an amusing story nonetheless if anyone ever asked. Especially when the anxieties swirling within him of making it awkward between them if she didn’t reciprocate it begin to rise. It’s too late now, though, as his fingers run along her jaw, tilting her head up just a fraction, and their lips meet. She doesn’t pull away, no, if anything her kiss is gentle, sweet, not unlike her in his very humble opinion. Varus’ matches hers, soft and almost tentative, given that it’s been well over three hundred years since he’d even kissed anyone.
Her hand curls in his shirt and he remains near when they part, his hand moving from her jaw to run his thumb along her cheek gently, his gaze snapping to hers as she speaks. And there’s a look of horror, a gasp that leaves him. “The wife?” He lifts the tone of his voice a fraction, as if he’s truly distraught by this, but the look in his eyes seems to suggest it’s all playful banter. He’d still internally hoped it was the husband, but that’s neither here nor there now that she’s spoiled the ending for him. “It’s still a little heartbreaking, I gotta say. Ouch.” He hums a soft laugh, moving to let his hand drop from her face to cover his heart, over her hand.
”The wife,” Isla repeats, her voice low and her tone positively fiendish, though her stomach does do a little flop as he presses his hand over the top of hers. Her palm splays across his chest, and though they don’t have hearts to break or beat or flutter, it’s the thought that counts.
”Oof, well. That’s the last thing I want for you,” she murmurs with a fanged smile. ”I’d offer to kiss it better, but I don’t think you want me to cut you open any more than I already have.”
Hopefully his lips will do instead, Isla leaning in for another kiss, just as soft, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t itching to run her fingers through his hair, to make a slow exploration of his body in much more than a medical sense.
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
She repeats herself and Varus can’t help but to let the smile leak onto his face, creeping in at the corners. His gaze scans her face again as she responds about his pained heart, humming a soft laugh beneath an unneeded breath, before he’s tilting his head back down toward her, pulling his hand away from his chest with hers to lace his fingers with her hand.
“Hm, I don’t know. It was surprisingly fun the first time.” He pauses because she’s leaning in again and he catches her lips with a bit less tentative of a kiss, the metal hand rising now to cup the back of her head gently. The benefit of two Ascended’s so far being that there’s no need for breath and yet Varus still thinks he’s breathless when he pulls away, moving to brush his nose against hers lightly. “More fun when I scare you and you hit me with my own appendages.” His voice is a low rumble mixed with a large amount of amusement, mirrored in the blue of his eyes.
She leans into his touch, dull as it might be, and given that the physical enjoyment of a kiss between two Ascended is somewhat limited, Isla's mind more than makes up for it. "Mm... arms are one thing. Hearts are a bit more delicate," she points out, murmuring the words against his lips and feeling herself curious as to how he'd feel if they really could enjoy this properly. What a crying shame that she's already made her points about first dates.
Still, she can't help but scoff at his quip, giving him a gentle nudge and narrowing her eyes up at him. "I am never going to live that one down, am I?" she says, grumbling but not leaning back at all. In fact, it's with a girlish pout that she turns to tuck herself against him, her free hand sneaking up so she can take hold of his metal hand instead, gently examining the palm, the knuckles, the fingertips. "It's really impressive, isn't it," she remarks. "Are you glad you have it?"
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
“Mm well, luckily for us we have the Voice that’s willing to help put us back together when we mess ourselves up.” Something he’s eternally grateful for. Without her he wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t have gotten a new arm, wouldn’t have gotten a lot of the opportunities he’s had in his very long yet short life. Still, his smile broadens when she nudges him and tucks herself against him, pulling away a fraction as she grabs his metal hand to inspect. “I’m sorry, Isla. It’s too amusing to not bring up all the time.” He flashes her a wink, the smirk on his face fanged and playful.
He relaxes his arm as she looks at it, runs her fingers along it, and part of him wishes he could feel the way her fingertips dance against the plates of metal. But he settles for imagining what it’s like instead. “It’s one of the best things I’ve gotten, I think.” He clicks his tongue in consideration as he moves to drape the metal arm around her shoulders, letting the hand sit in front of her so she can still look at it, keeping her tucked in against his side. “And since it’s entirely metal I think I might be able to ask for her to upgrade it. I could be… Strong as all hell.” His brows furrow as he thinks up the possibilities.
"Mm, that is lucky. And hopefully I can do a decent job in the meantime, providing no one messes themselves up too badly," she says, nodding her agreement and feeling herself relax in a way that she only realises is rare when it happens as his arm settles around her. Shifting to lean her head against his shoulder, her fingers continue to brush patterns along the palm of his metal hand, even if her gaze is on the starlit sea. "Alright, it was very funny," she admits with a smirk.
Nodding gently, she finally glances back down at his new appendage. "It is mighty impressive," she agrees, though she can't help but scoff and tilt her head back to look up at him, to hear what he says about upgrading it. "Is that important to you?" she wonders, her tone more curious than it is judging. "To be strong as all hell, I mean."
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
“You will.” Varus rumbles with all the confidence in the world. She’d quieted his sensors, removed an entire arm, and for that he was entirely grateful as well. His arm slips around her shoulders, then, and he tucks her in against his chest, letting his thoughts air out in the open, pausing before the hum of a laugh slips from him at her agreement that it was funny. It’s something he’ll cherish some time, truthfully. But when they settle and her question reaches him, he’s unsure how to answer.
He meets her gaze when she looks up at him and he offers her a soft smile. “No, not really. I just think it would be cool given I have a whole metal arm.” He suggests with a hum of a laugh, a shrug of the shoulder she doesn’t occupy. “Maybe something that could deflect projectiles… For when the war comes.” He considers this curiously for a moment before he’s shaking his head. “Honestly I’m just glad I have a new arm.” He offers, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she continues to run her fingers along the edge of the metal of his palm.
It warms her in a way she doesn't expect, to hear him sound so confident about her abilities. And she can't even playfully object to it - of anyone, Varus would know whether she was any good at what she did. So it's with a small and private smile directed at the sea that she enjoys this moment for what it is, Isla strumming gentle fingers across his palm as if trying to find fingerprints that don't exist there any longer.
Then he speaks, and it's both cheerful fun and a dark reminder of the building conflict. Meeting his eyes, Isla manages a gentle smile and a nod. "For when the war comes," she echoes softly, squeezing his hand back. "There are some who are going to try to keep peace," she says suddenly. "I'm helping with the effort, actually. Do you think it's possible?"
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
He’s content to sit there for however long she likes, letting the silence of his confirmation of her skills color the air, to watch idly as she dances her fingertips across the metal found as his palm, shifting a fraction as he flexes his hand beneath hers, letting the metal shift over the other. Her question is aired, one that isn’t easy for him to answer. One that takes a few moments of thought to sink in as he stares at the ocean, lips pursing slightly as he considers it.
“I think… That it’s going to be tough. But if there’s enough that can be swayed, then perhaps it’s worth a shot.” He tilts his head to glance back down to her. “I’d prefer not to have to get thrust back into war, at the very least.” A crooked smile crosses his face as he gives her shoulders a light squeeze. “There… Was a lot of places with prejudices, just as I’m sure there are now. Back then there was a bit more of a vendetta versus what I’ve been gathering from here, but I suppose that’s due to the whole… Three hundred years of propaganda, yeah?”
His silence is enough for her to know the answer, really. And when he speaks, Isla already knows how complex and unlikely peace is. And yet, until it really is impossible, she can't help but hope for it. "Mm," she agrees, before realising how vague and unhelpful that really is. With a smile as she tilts her head up to look at him, she leans in to gently kiss the corner of his mouth.
"I'm sorry for bringing the mood down so low," she remarks, another kiss pressing against his lips, this one slower, lingering. "I've got to get back to the Grounds," she murmurs, sounding somewhat regretful about it. "How long are you going to be staying in Torchline? I've got to get you another book to read - this one without spoilers."
// every mistake, a reason to run, but a good soldier marches on knowing the worst may be still yet to come //
She agrees in a way that’s almost noncommittal, but Varus doesn’t comment on it. Not as he focuses on the smile that she flashes to him, the way she leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and Varus leans into it lightly, giving her shoulders a squeeze with the metal arm. “Don’t be.” He muffles against her lips, pressing a kiss back to her that’s just as slow, just as lingering, as if he might be trying to map the feel of her lips (as much as an Ascended can feel) and commit them to memory.
“Just a few more days. I’ll be back before you know it.” He murmurs to her, flashing her a fanged smile as he moves to rest his forehead against hers gently. “Plenty of time for you to find a spoiler free book. Maybe extra heartbreaking.” He pulls away, tipping a wink her way before he lets a low rumble of a chuckle leave him. “I do forgive you for spoiling this one, though I do find it funny how you were so concerned with me spoiling it for you.” His gaze meets hers a bit playful, a bit sheepishly, amusement dancing in the blues of his gaze.
