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!
06-04-2021, 07:16 AM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2021, 07:17 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
over the riots above all the noise
The shock feels so thick and drowning that she almost doesn't see him move closer. She tries to take it all in and finds that she can't accept it. It's not that it's another scar, though that is its own thing to wrap her mind around. It's that, even here, even with new scars, it's still because someone or something tried to kill her.
Her hands slowly begin to test it, feeling the new bumps and ridges with a tentativeness as if they might hurt to touch. As if she's scared they're real.
But Milo closes in and she sucks in a sharp breath, an involuntary reaction to his touch. In this moment she wishes he couldn't see her like this, torn apart and broken beyond repair. For this moment, she regrets inviting him in. But there's a pang of hurt at that thought and she knows it isn't true. The hand that goes to her jaw brings her gaze up to his, and she finds the muscles in her jawline fluttering with her tension.
"Milo..." her voice tremors with something she so often suffocates, so often pretends isn't an emotion she feels. It's brought back from the direct memory of how lightning feels when it shoots through the body.
Her gaze flinches a fraction as he offers to heal her. She shakes her head a little too quickly, trying to dismiss his worry, but he's already trying. Her heart swells and her eyes soften. Gently, she places her hands over his. "You can't heal this," she tells him, a hint of disappointment in her tones that she tries to hide.
"It's okay, Milo," she breathes shakily in the pause as she looks up at him, her hands leaving his. They find their way to his sides, where she can anchor herself to him, "I'm okay. I'll be okay. I need you to just.. stay here with me, okay?"
He doesn’t mind seeing her like this. It’s what he’d signed up for when he chose her. No amount of scars or her breaking apart would change that for him. So he reaches up, lifting her jaw to look her in the eye, to watch her gaze as it seems so far away yet here. Her voice trembles and he tries to soothe away her worries and fears and tries to be there for her as much as he can be.
“I heard… That when m’healin’ magic gets stronger… That y’can take ‘em away. Th’scars.” He says softly, scanning her face as if it might be a curious thing to bring up one day – whether she’d want them removed even after she’d gotten used to them as being a part of her. He supposes it’s a question he might have to ask some other time. Because for now, he’s reaching up and pulling her close as her hands find their home on his sides.
He pulls her close, pressing his cheek against the crown of her head. “’m not goin’ anywhere, ‘Relia. ‘m here for you. However long.” He assures her, pressing a kiss to her head before he’s pulling her with him to test the heat of the water and make sure it wasn’t going to burn her.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
She has to swallow down the adamance that rises against her voice before she can speak.
"If my scars are ever healed... I want you to be the one to do it," there's tenderness in the admittance, though her fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt. It wrinkles in her hands.
It's because she trusts him, trusts that he'll understand what it will force her to process, that it will be the death of such a huge part of her. Within that, too, it would be a release. Even if he doesn't understand it, she'd want to go through that with no one else.
He tucks her in against him and her nerves settle once more. His voice soothes the sharp, jagged pieces of her heart time and time again. He always makes such a tireless effort. She finds that, here within his arms, it's impossible to truly be broken.
With a deep inhale of breath, she begins to pull his shirt up. "C'mon. You plan on showering with your clothes on?" she teases meekly, sniffling. The humor doesn't find its way to her crippled voice. Nonetheless she tries to meet him halfway, because she knows he just wants to help her however he can. And he is, but she knows she's shit at showing it.
If he'll let her, she'll pull away his shirt and toss it into the heap of her own clothes. Then she turns to feel the water for herself. The temperature is welcoming, not scalding, and she finds herself unable to resist it anymore. Leaving Milo to fend himself off against his pants, the rest of her own undergarments are shed.
She steps carefully beneath the flow of water. It rains down through her hair, past her shoulders, rolling down over her hips. The layer of ash and dust is filtered out with it. A relieved sigh parts her lips and her eyes shut. After several renewing moments and a few repeated rinses of her hair, her pale gaze reopens to peer up at Milo. Droplets of water have settled across her lashes, making them feel even heavier.
Her hand reaches out. Just one, at first, until he draws nearer and the other can find its place with him too. She pulls him close this time, but she's gentle and hesitant, the pressure only enough to be influencing. She wants him closer, that their bodies might meet and the warmth can be shared between them - their own and the water's.
“Okay.” He says quickly, not fully understanding, but not in a position to try and deny her. If that’s what she wants, he’s honored to be the one she’s picked for such a task. It gives him a reason to continue to try and improve his magic, at least. So he tucks her in close against his chest, arms winding their way around her gently, almost delicately, as if he might break her apart if he squeezes too tightly. He doesn’t though, and he knows just how strong she is.
Still, he can’t stop himself from doing it.
She pulls his shirt up, tsking him and he offers her a brighter smile – fully willing to throw himself into the humor she attempts, because it’s an improvement from picking up her pieces. “Mm, no, not at all.” He says with a shake of his head, but helps her slip his shirt off. He watches it idly as she tosses it into the heap of the rest of the clothes, and as she checks the temperature, he works on his pants and the rest of his clothes.
It’s fairly swift in comparison, and soon the smuggler’s stepping in behind Aurelia, hands snaking back around her, wrapping around her hips and she invites him in, letting the water run over bronze and slightly sunburned skin, dampening his red hair into liquid copper. “Y’know…” He pauses, nuzzling his face in to press a kiss to her cheeks, each individually, before he nuzzles his nose against her own and presses their foreheads together. “Th’new face is gonna take m’sometime t’get used to, but… Yer still beautiful, ‘Relia. Still everythin’ I ever wanted.”
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
06-09-2021, 07:34 AM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2021, 07:46 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
over the riots above all the noise
His hands squeeze around her hips and she relents to his touch just as much as she wants him to relent to hers. Her hands reach to press over his chest as he closes in, appreciating the way he listens to the silent ques she gives him. Water runs across their skin, refreshing and warming. Her gaze flits up to try and look at him, though it settles somewhere along his collarbone instead.
Milo's skin is flushed red from where the sun has kissed it for just too long and her fingers smooth around those areas, trying to be careful of them. He leans in to plant kisses against her cheeks and she slowly lifts her face to welcome the intimacy of it.
Her body leans further into his touch, her hips meeting his, and she sighs softly with it. The stream from the hot water drowns out the heat of her breath, though. The press of his nose against hers makes the corners of her lips flinch upward. Her eyes shut as she gently returns the gesture until he touches his forehead against hers.
He says something that grabs at her heartstrings and she shifts in reaction to it. Her lashes flutter back up to glance at him even if the two of them are so close it's hard to focus on his features.
One hand moves up across his shoulder to tangle through the back of his dripping wet hair. She presses her forehead harder against his for a moment before she retracts just enough to relieve the pressure. "I'm still getting used to it, too."
Water drizzles down her freckled cheeks. Her chin tilts further down and her lips hover closer to his chest. "You just.. have to get to know me again," she murmurs, right before pressing her pliable lips over the round muscle on one side of his chest. Her tongue slips forward to taste him within the act, feeling a more pleasant haze fall across her mind. She sinks toward him almost involuntarily. If her lips part from his skin, it's only so that her teeth can gently graze it. She moves her mouth across to his shoulder, to leave an achingly slow trail of loving marks.
His hands roam across her skin, familiarizing himself with the similarities and the differences, focusing on the closeness to her and the freckles that line her face that have shifted their constellation-like patterns into something new. Her eyes are still bright, still the same, a similar dark hue to her hair as well. But her cheeks are rounder, her nose more of a button, and her face a bit more of a heart shape. It’ll take him some getting used to, but he has what feels like the rest of forever to figure it out and get to know this new face like the back of his hand once again.
He utters his words and her hand comes up to tangle through the back of his hair, Milo leaning into the press to his forehead, almost hard enough that it hurts but he doesn’t care. She tells him she’s getting used to it too and he can only imagine how strange it must be to look in a mirror or the reflection of a puddle and to not find the face she’s known for however long.
It suddenly occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know how old she is, not that it matters. But it’s an idle thought that comes and passes, especially when she leans forward, her soft lips hovering over his chest, her voice a soft murmur that has him willing to do whatever it takes to keep her mind off of the recent events. And it seems she has one idea that he’s more than happy to oblige to.
Her mouth finds his skin, marks left behind along the flush from the sun and the heat of the water and Milo’s hands grow more possessive over her hips, pulling her closer, nuzzling his cheek to the top of her head before his hands roam to the small of her back, running his blunt fingernails along her spine in an idle stroke. “I don’ think that’s gonna be much’ve a problem.” He murmurs to her, a crooked smile forming on his face that remains, even as his hand rises to her jaw, to lift her head so that he can press a harder, more passionate kiss to her lips.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
06-13-2021, 05:08 AM (This post was last modified: 06-13-2021, 05:11 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
over the riots above all the noise
She's more than happy to stay within this moment. Let it take precedence over everything else. It's always like this with him, he pulls her back again and again and again; back from brinks and edges and the haunting darkness of her past. And so she'll press her love again and again to his skin, gentle and fervent all at once.
The roaming of his hands draws her closer like he wants it to, and she wants it, too. Her hands cling a little tighter to the places they've found; fingers at his hair digging deeper, idle hand on his chest becoming a needier grasp around his side. The feeling of his fingers dragging across her skin sends a heavy shiver up her spine, one that almost matches the motion exactly.
His words incite a rapidness in her breath suddenly. A mix of emotions takes hold, in which her chest flutters to hold them captive within. When his hand reaches to pry her once-amicable mouth up to his, he'll find some resistance there. Her lips are intent on planting faint rosettes across his skin, engrossed with him as she is - and worried of what might become of her if she isn't.
But when her gaze lifts slowly to meet his and she sees what it is he's silently asking for, of course she gives in. Their lips converge, her own parted enough to taste his, and she melts beneath the generosity of his passion. Her fingers in his hair drift down to linger across his jaw, too, so the both of them might hold each other to this kiss.
The feeling of their bodies meeting rouses a want within her that's difficult to settle. Silent breath clouds in through her nose and into her chest. With the motion, her breasts push against his chest softly and her eyelids flutter completely shut. Her other hand moves down along his body to smooth over the bump of his hip. Slender fingers find some purchase there, digging in just a little harder, pulling him in just a little more. Her leg lifts just slightly over his, skin gliding over skin, and she puts more of her weight against him.
Still, there's a moment of hesitance and she pulls back just a little, lips faltering from his and her gaze opening to search his expression, silently making sure he was really alright with this. And suddenly she wonders if she's alright, too. "Milo...?" She speaks his name tentatively, "This isn't... I don't feel like a stranger to you, do I? I can stop, if it's..." What's the word? Weird? Overwhelming?
It’s almost like a pact of sorts – the way they hold each other’s heads near one another, to press the kiss and ensure the other feels every second of it – like a quiet vow made between them. He pulls her closer against him, an arm slipping around her to tuck her in close, pressing in against the small of her back as the water runs down their bodies, sticking them together in some places more than others, and his hand only leaves her cheek and jaw when her leg lifts slightly against his own.
It moves down to help support it, to run along the outside of her thigh, to her knee, hoisting it up a bit higher when he finally breaks the kiss when she does – finding her face unreadable (harder now, now that it looks different), and he flushes under her quiet assessment. He doesn’t know what it is she seeks, not until she speaks, and when she does he stills a fraction – his thumb idly stroking along her skin as he considers it.
“’s not weird.” He replies swiftly, once his brain is working again, the hand wrapped around her middle moves to run along her spine in an idle stroke, from the small of her back up to her shoulders and back down again in a smooth motion. “Y’don’t. The rest’ve you is… Similar. Jus’ gotta get used to yer face.” He comments quietly, flashing a smile her way, one that lights up the bronze of his gaze.
He leans in, then, head nearing her ear, pressing a kiss to the soft patch of skin beneath it, before he nips playfully at her earlobe. “’sides, maybe I wanna get used t’all the faces y’make with yer new one.” It’s a soft purr in her ear, Milo shifting from nipping at her ear to press a kiss to her neck, biting down lightly and sucking to leave a mark along her shoulder.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
The absence of his hand on her cheek is cold, but then she feels his fingers draw lines across the milkier skin of her thigh. Her heart thumps a little louder in her chest. He hoists her leg up higher suddenly and a small gasp leaves her with it. As much as she can feel the warmth of her desire for him building, and it builds quicker than she might've expected, she wants to navigate this moment properly. She doesn't want to wash her pain away and end up drowning him in the process. So she has to pause, break away, and really look at him.
The way he draws stiller but continues to stroke her thigh has her confused at first, not sure which way to interpret the response. In the small silence, the pattering of the water against the floor beneath them grows louder.
But it isn't weird for him, and he runs his hand along her back in a way that draws a soothed breath from her lips. "Good..." Both of her hands move up slowly, trusting his assurances, that he's okay with her. Her fingers push over his navel, up across his chest, moving with aching need until they snake around his neck as he leans in.
Her head tilts beneath the softness of his lips, giving him the space he needs to kiss her skin wherever he wants to roam it. He nips playfully at the lobe of her ear and she turns her nose in to press it against his cheek, a soft smile sneaking against his skin. The hands that hang behind his neck suddenly stir into motion, spurred on by the brightness he inspires within her. And, drunk with him as she is, she doesn't process it in time to stop herself.
The glitter that drapes across him, stirring onto her as well, is almost transparent. It has a barely-there, silvery sheen, mixing in with the water and spreading it evenly across him. It's not a feeling she wants him to have, specifically, but that she's overwhelmed by in this moment, communicated in a way that could be no clearer. She wants, and wants nothing more than to intensify the moment, to exist nowhere else but here with him in it - guiltless and uninhibited.
In light of the release, combined by the delightful sensation of his mouth on her bare skin, her fingers roughly spread and tangle into his hair and her hips tilt in towards his. "Mmh," the moan is easy and she drowns it in the soft skin of his neck, sighing out the heated words, "don't stop." Then she sinks her lips in against his skin.
Aurelia uses glitterific, encouraging desire. Like, the hot kind. You know.
She accepts his response and he breathes a sigh of relief with it, leaning in and pressing against her, lips finding her ear and her neck, searching for another way to relieve the tension within her. And it works, at least for him, because the recent events are one of the last things he’s thinking of as her hands snake around his neck, locking her against him in all the ways he knows and loves.
It’s still her beneath the changed exterior. And if he had any questions or reservations about it? Well, the scars on her body answered the rest. So he hums, nipping down at her skin, not realizing she’s released her glittery magic until he spies it coating both of their skin. In another time, perhaps he might have joked about her releasing it too early, but he doesn’t — drunk and distracted by her as he is, he simply presses her against the wall, ensuring her leg’s hitched up against him, her hips tilting toward him — her command is one he can easily give her.
“’m not plannin’ on it.” He breathes against her skin, hands slipping along her sides now, one hand moving below to support her, the other snaking up to tease at her breast, his head lifting away from her skin to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Y’sure?” He asks her instead, as if the feeling of his growing erection isn’t already pressing against her thigh, as if his lust and love isn’t already swirling in his gaze.
Still, he waits.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
The question, though small, makes her second-guess herself and she slowly pulls back to look at him. She hesitates, and he might feel it in the way her muscles flinch and her gaze stirs with conflicted emotion. If he could drown everything else out, even if only for a moment, if he could make all this weight disappear for just a second... then she's sure she wants nothing else.
They're so close in this moment that their breath can be felt against one another's skin. even as water streams across it. As he lifts her with his arm, her other leg comes up to hook around his hip and she lets out a soft, exhilarated sigh. The overwhelming heat between them sends a stubborn trail of goosebumps all the way up her arms. Her legs subconsciously squeeze him closer, until she can feel his erection against her wet folds.
"Yes-" she blurts out, desperation evident in her tones, "I need something better than all this, Milo, and that's you."
Reacting to her own emotions, she pulls his hair so that his head might tilt a bit. "It's always been you," she murmurs, the words quick and soft but no less meaningful. Her own chin tilts towards his, her nose gliding across his cheek as she moves in. She aims to close her mouth around the pucker of his soft lips. The kiss, the feeling of him against her, their bodies caressing one another rouses a needy hum in her throat.
He waits and she hesitates, and Milo’s meeting her gaze when she draws back to look at him. All she’ll find is love and adoration in his gaze, the bronze swirled with a hue of lust as well. He lifts her, settles and stills, hands finding purchase on her skin wherever he can reach and still Milo waits.
It isn’t until she’s readjusting them, the way her thighs draw him in and he can feel her warmth against his hardened length that he’s watching her with a more primal gaze, breath hitching the second her voice reaches him and the desperation within is evident. Even despite the glitter, he wants to be able to give her a distraction, something else to focus on.
Her hands are in his hair, tipping his head back as she dives in and Milo breathes a sigh of relief, hands roaming along her skin again – fingers digging in to keep her close to him as the water rolls along their skin. “’ts always been y’too.” He breathes a second before she’s diving in and their lips are meeting. He dives in, tongue swiping along her lower lip, wanting to throw himself into her with abandon.
Hands find her hips and readjust her legs a bit to line them up a bit more, his mind and lips singularly focused on the taste of her and the feel of her, and he taunts both her and himself, slipping his cock into her a small amount before pausing a second, sucking down a slow breath through his nose, and with it Milo presses into her further and just as slow.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
06-28-2021, 01:23 PM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2021, 02:18 PM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
over the riots above all the noise
He wants to give her something else to focus on, and she wants to focus intently on everything he gives her. The sigh she coaxes through his throat creates a pool of simmering warmth that seeps through to her core. Her irises are dark circles in her heavy-lidded gaze as she watches his every reaction. The fingers he digs into her skin, the feeling of the water washing over and between them, it’s all intoxicating. With the knowledge that they’re both sure of this, that they both want this just as badly as the other, she gives in. Her back arches towards him, even if her muscles start to ache again.
She pauses for just a moment to hear his words, soft and wet - the same way he’ll find her as he readjusts her hips. Their lips meet in the same instant, though she cannot help the small gasp that interrupts it as she feels him close the only gap left between them. The feeling of him inside of her is enough, even if it’s tantalizingly slow and she yearns to feel all of him. The grip on his hair tightens and her lips remain parted, allowing his tongue exploration of them. Her own tongue moves out to meet his, pressing across it. There’s something in each of her movements that strains to contain her urges, until finally her legs squeeze tighter around him, bringing him closer and deeper.
It pulls a gentle moan from her mouth, her lips tugging into a grimace as she struggles to refrain from the emotions that plague her. It’s all, frankly, too much... and she just wants to get away from it. From the rage and the pain; from all the dark shadows that have followed her around like haunting possessors of her heart. If there’s rage, she wants it to be at the thought of ever not knowing this. If there are shadows, she wants them to be driven out of her heart by the light of their fire. If there’s pain... she knows he can take it all away.
“I love you–” Even if her voice is muffled by the press of his skin, the tangle of their bodies, the sound of the water raining down on them, the words persevere.
They come together easily, like puzzle pieces that seem to just fit, and it’s with relief that she helps to readjust herself with him so that Milo doesn’t have to strain so far in trying to distract her. Her hand tightens in his red hair, their lips crashing and tongues tangling, broken up only by the sound that leaves her and the huff of air that passes through his nose as he feels her as he slips into her.
Her legs tighten around him and draw him closer, and Milo gives into it – giving her time to readjust as he dives into her fully, until they’re joined, until he’s nearly aching with his restraint. And once he thinks he’s settled and she’s settled enough, Milo pulls away from the kiss in time to hear her muffled I love you, leaning back a fraction as his arms continue to wind around her and support her. “Love y’too.” He breathes, pulling out just enough to thrust and pick a rhythm.
It’s a perfect position for them with the cooling sensation of the water to their side, the way he can keep her near while still also offering her pleasure, giving her enough room to arch and move however she wishes. But as he’d promised prior, his gaze is lustful and swirling with desire as he watches her from a half lidded gaze, trying to see just what all had changed in this new face of hers, trying to get used to it all the same as he drives himself into her – his own quiet moans given to her with each and every thrust.
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story
