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!
The predators that linger in Remi's bones bristle and brace against the Star as he moves to sit up. He's so very close to being considered prey, that to release him now—to give up the high ground?—has them very nearly snarling. Remi though is all too willing to let Ronin rise, his hands smoothing away (some of) the mud from the Star's cheeks.
Sparks dance up from the base of his spine as Ronin's tongue slides against his lip, but as the Star draws back, Remi can only regard him with befuddled and boyish confusion for a moment. The lines around one of his eyes grow more pronounced as his expression becomes crooked even as his head tilts in the opposite direction. Through the mud smeared across his cheeks, his dimples deepen as his skin flushes; despite how very well Remi knows the eyes he peers into, suddenly it's as though Ronin's gaze is too much.
Glancing down with an almost nervous laugh, Remi shakes his head. "If I am, it is only because of you." He admits. "You are the only one who can see me as beautiful." Shyly—or perhaps it's disbelievingly?—said, Remi reaches out to cup Ronin's face in his hands.
"I want to give you the life you want." There's heat in his belly, but it coats his words too. "I will."
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
If Ronin knows the effect his words have, he isn't sorry for them, and as his husband looks away with flushed and dimpled cheeks, the Star can only grace him with a warm, dopey sort of smile. "Nobody knows you like I do," he counters, leaning into the hands that cup his face, his eyes closing for a moment. "If they did, they'd be able to see it as easily as I can." His hands are wandering again and he isn't trying to stop them, Ronin working his fingers up and against the expanse of feathers that stretch from his husband's shoulders.
"I believe it," he half whispers, heat flaring in his belly as well as he leans in for a kiss that, while comparatively chaste, feels all consuming. "When I'm here with you like this, there's no other life that I want. I just want you - to be an idiot with you, to go home with you every night, to wake up with you every morning. It's more than enough. I was a fool to think otherwise."
Years now they've watched each other's bodies grow and change, and yet Remi feels more naked and vulnerable now beneath his husband's gaze than he has in years. Shivering, the alchemist's skin is suddenly hyperaware of every place it melts against Ronin, no matter how many layers of mud or clothing exist between them. He loathes all that separates them, and gods if he wouldn't give up every bit of strength he's developed to have back the ability to dissolve their clothes into petals.
Ronin's lips against his has Remi's mind flaring and stilling all at once. Too much happens in the moment for the alchemist to do anything other than lean into the warmth of his husband's lips. Nevermind the heat that drips from his belly between his thighs and sloshes down to the balls of his feet; nevermind the way he wants to surge forward and reclaim the high ground over his husband; nevermind all the things that rise and fall on his tongue. Breathless as they part, Remi gasps slightly as his lips form a shaky smile. "But that is just the thing...I want you to have everything all the time. Not just when we are alone." Not just when it was easy.
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Ronin can feel the way his husband wants this upper hand, feels the way the predators within him fight for purchase, and he can't help the smile that curls across his lips even as they are occupied by kissing. He succumbs, but not in any hurry, slowly drawing the alchemist over him as he slumps back into the mud. Blue eyes flicker open, Ronin peering up at the man he's pledged himself to, and he frees a hand to cup Remi's cheek.
"Alright," he says simply, because he's not about to argue with Remi over something as sweet as this. "I want to live in the woods with you, like we planned to nearly a year ago," he says with a shy smile. "I'll finish my work with the dragoons, and I'll start a project for the skyboats to come and dock in the Greatwood. And we'll build a cabin, or a treehouse, or a wagon, or whatever you want. We'll have more children, and we'll find a way to do it properly."
He raises his eyebrows, aware that his ideas sound outlandish and ridiculous. "How does that sound?"
As they tilt back, the control of the movement a testament to their combined strength and dexterity that no one is around to witness, Remi can feel himself shiver with anticipation as yet more wildfire races through his veins. Smoke blurs his senses from it, and gods if this is going to continue to be a conversation he'll have to peel himself away from the Star. Now that would be a true feat of strength, just now.
'We will have everything." Remi agrees instantly. Gardens and skyboats and fences painted white (and then repainted more brightly by little hands intolerant of anything so plain). Children and laughter and more love than they could even imagine, especially in times as dark as these.
"Ronin..." The Star's name is said almost like a plea, as Remi's hands fall away from Ronin's cheeks where they claw into the mud on either side of his husband's head. It feels inappropriate, to be so delirious with desire on the heels of promising Ronin a life sweeter than anything they'd lived so far, and yet here Remi is, undone by hot skin beneath cool mud and eyes bluer than any sea.
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Everything?" Ronin's voice is almost a whisper, the Star tilting his chin up a bit to better see his husband, crowned as he is by his antlers. He hadn't really believed it would be everything, especially not the bright hands printing patterns onto white picket fences. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he can't stop his hips from arching up against his husband, not when his name hits the air in that tone.
They are in a mudpatch near a tarpit in the middle of the swamp, and it is absolutely the wrong time and place to be feeling so turned on, and yet Ronin absolutely doesn't care. "Have me," he urges Remi, his smile just a little bit wicked, a little bit daring. And it takes very little effort to lean in and close the distance within them, the Star moaning his encouragement into the kiss.
"Everything." He means it. And, for as much as a selfish-taker as Remi has become, he finds himself oddly elated and inspired to think of all the ways he might simply devote himself to making all of Ronin's dreams for their life come true.
It's no surprise that Remi has no hesitation at all about where they are. Hygiene might come into play in a moment, but for now, the alchemist is content to chase down the heat that he finds surging where their hips press together. Without a worry for what ingesting swamp mud might do, Remi returns his husband's kiss in earnest. I want you, The thought spills endlessly from Remi's thoughts as his tongue turns greedy and his hands instinctively seek out his husband's skin.
There is something youthful and absurd about the way they lay in the swamp, grinding on each other like teenagers who have only moments alone before they're inevitably caught or called away. Perhaps it's because this is all so wildly divorced from how real life is for them, that Remi burns all the hotter for it. "You would have probably burned away your clothes on the flight home anyway," Remi mumbles, his words taking on an air of apology as a clawed finger slices at Ronin's belt.
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Hygiene and propriety can take a backseat to Ronin's wants right now, thank you very much, and his lips part to gasp into their kiss at the way they are close but nowhere near close enough. He has to peel himself out of his shirt even as Remi claws away his belt, and fingers caked in mud and sweat tangle roughly in the back of the alchemist's hair. Smiling crookedly, he lifts his hips to try and struggle his way out of his pants.
"You're right, I'm pretty careless. And you'd have been egging me on to burn them all off anyway," he says breathlessly, leaning in to kiss along the line of his jaw, however caked in mud it might be. "I love you," he mumbles. "And I don't care where we are - I'm going to let this whole place know it while you fuck me."
The words are his undoing more than anything else. Remi's eyes press shut as if in a wince, though Ronin will have seen this expression many times on his husband's face. He has no need of detailed vision right now, but his other senses? Closing his eyes lets him focus on the tactile feel of the Star beneath him with hands that aren't quite human anymore. The smell of adrenaline and lust that intermingles with the mud has Remi's head shaking ever so slightly as he mentally puzzles his way through it, picking out the intrinsic smell of his husband and letting it guide him.
With a growl, his lips are on Ronin's again as he shifts his hips up and uses a tentacle to tug down the Star's pants. With an insistent grunt that Ronin no doubt will understand as mine next, he'll wriggle himself out of his own as well so long as Ronin has undone them. And if not? Well, they'll be cut off as well then.
They have all the time in the world for this, and yet Remi feels like there is some shadow stretching out from the trees that demarcate the end of playtime. It's likely just some latent predatory inclination to always be prepared, and yet he happily sinks into just the same; real or imagined, Remi wants little else in this moment other than to indulge them. Hating to pull away if only for a second, the alchemist does so with a whine trapped behind his lips as he straightens, if only to press his husband's knees to his chest (or spread his legs), whatever his preference.
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Ronin doesn't have the sense to complain about the tentacle, even if he does end up wriggling a good deal more than he would have had it been a hand pulling down his pants. And regardless, his breath is stolen by Remi's lips and tongue pressing against his own, the Star fumbling with the buttons still trapping the alchemist in his own clothes. They've stopped having sex to race to the finish line these days, but in times like this there's a thrill to it, in needing to hurry lest the world interrupt them.
And as Ronin tosses the scraps of his clothing to one side, he's left looking up the length of his husband's body, streaked with mud and shimmering with the humidity that clings to them here. Despite the mix of shifts that inhabit their bodies, this is still as close to predatory as Ronin gets, even as his legs spread, as he hooks one of his calves around Remi's waist to drag him closer. "Gods--" he hisses, his pulse roaring in his ears, his gaze locking on eyes that might be the shallows of some tropical shore, sweet enough to drown in.
It's a sweet desperation that grips the back of Remi's thighs, making them shake beneath the heels suddenly locked around them. It's entirely a primal drive that has him wanting to line himself up and thrust forward until their bodies collide. He'll soothe away the pain Ronin feels with kisses and promises of better things to come. Though the slightly possessive and rough nature of it has Remi a touch dizzy, a more demanding emotion has thoroughly taken control of his mind such that a lazy smile tugs at his lips.
'Lean back and close your eyes..' Assuming Ronin does just that, the Star will feel pressure between his legs as Remi lines himself up. Rather than thrusting for all he's worth, he'll lean forward...almost...distractedly?
The reason why will become instantly obvious, as a tongue brushes against the head of Ronin's cock while the alchemist enters the man completely. The sensation will flicker as Remi's control of his projected self shivers in and out of reality with the pressure, and much like someone trying to pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time, Remi can't quite seem to lick and rock his hips simultaneously.
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Part of Ronin wants it too - he wants the pain, wants Remi as rough and possessive and his as he can get him - and as the other man leans in, he's ready for it. So with cheeks flushed and lips already parted, it's a very confused Ronin who is told to lean back and close his eyes. He's not so foolish as to not do as he's told at this point, though, and as his eyes slip shut and Remi enters him completely, he finds himself arching off the muddy ground at an entirely unexpected sensation.
"Oh--" It's all the Star can really grate out as his head tilts back further, leaving him panting for breath and simultaneously wanting to urge Remi forward and hold him just there while he enjoys the phantom tongue around his cock. "Fuck, that's--" A smile flickers across his face, and he reaches up so his arms might snake further around his husband. "More," he half growls, rocking his hips into Remi. As if he needs encouragement.
The stuttering of Ronin's breath has the alchemist laughing a touch shakily as joy and pride intermingle with the heat that's quickly evaporating the rest of his senses. Arcing down (over himself?), Remi strains to press his lips against Ronin's, thrusting himself all the more against the Star in the process and also answering one important question: Yes, projections need to breathe. Stifled between himself and Ronin, astral!Remi fights for a breath as he's inadvertently forced down farther than his gag reflex normally allows.
It's strange the way his thoughts flit between two bodies. He can feel the smooth head of Ronin's cock against his tongue even though his lips are parted and panting in breath. His fingers are pressed into the mud at Ronin's side as his head moves up and down, and yet his fingers are also around Ronin's hips, hugging the Star closer.
'Ronin.." Whatever he meant to say is lost in the swirl of gravity that seems to emanate from deep within the Star, pulling him back relentlessly every time Remi's hips have the nerve to move away. "..gods I love this." Remi moans, and though he hasn't quite got the movements down seamlessly yet, his tongue and lips are eager enough that likely their clumsy presence against Ronin's erection is a welcome one. Remi, who finds himself nearly as undone by giving as he does by receiving, can only manage a fluttery and breathless laugh as his hips pick up a rhythm that his mouth is helpless to match. "I want you like this always."
remi
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
The only thing to hold onto here is Remi, given the mudslick ground beneath them and the way the tangled branches of the swamp curl overhead, too far for his fingers to grasp them. And hold onto him Ronin does, his fingers buried tightly in damp and muddy curls while his other hand curls around a wing joint, relishing the feel of feathers and flesh alike. It's all consuming, the feel of Remi all around him in every way possible, and it does the unheard of for a moment - it robs Ronin of his words.
As the Lullaby finds his rhythm, however mismatched it might be to the pace of his mouth, the Star is left to serenade him to whatever creatures in the Feverlands are unfortunate enough to be listening. "What, on the floor in the mud?" he manages after what feels like an eternity, a small, lopsided smile on his lips that quickly fades into a gasp of mounting pleasure.
"Don't stop--" he warns, his legs hitching Remi closer if possible, as if encouraging him to go faster and harder, wanting to be the other man's undoing.
