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!
Mateo is fast asleep. Maybe Remi is as well - Ronin can never be sure, these days, if his husband is sleeping soundly or hosting a meeting in his dreams. Either way, slumber eludes the Star, and that has him (perhaps uncharacteristically, perhaps not) clambering out through their bedroom window and up onto the slanted rooftops.
A Cheshire cat moon grins overhead, bathing the Pacifist Plaza in pale light - and although Ronin can hear a strange hissing, a chittering he recognises from somewhere deep in the back of his mind - the Star's eyes are on the sky. The warrior constellation shines directly overhead here, and Ronin shines right back at it.
Not his dazzle, no - shed of their velvet (and there's still a smear of blood on Ronin's temple from the last of it), his luxere antlers glow hauntingly through the night, flagging the Taliesin family home from any other.
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Minutes or hours, Remi has no way of knowing how long ago his husband wrote the note placed just so on top of his pillow. Remi finds himself in the kitchen with a flurry of feathers before he takes wing and swoops out from one of the windows and up onto the rooftop where his husband is glowing both ominously and handsomely. The pale hawk deposits a bundle wrapped in cloth (better to hold it with talons), that contains a bottle of wine, some cookies, and a block of cheese.
Shifting and then reaching quickly for the wine lest it roll itself off the roof, Remi flashes his husband an adoring smile as he leans over to press a kiss against the Star's temple. The taste of blood is instant and alluring on his lips as he pulls away, and as much as it inspires an array of other thoughts in his mind, Remi simply rubs away the blot of crimson with his thumb before leaning back on his elbows. "It is cooler now." He observes. "I prefer it."
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Ominous is probably a good word for it, Ronin glancing sharply to the edge of the rooftop - and whatever might be breaching the boundaries of his home and his family - before relaxing at the sight of the one person it's all for, at the end of the day. Offering a small smile and letting his shoulders relax, he tilts his head at the bundle, reaching for the cookies at the same time as Remi grabs the wine.
His eyes flick back up to the warrior constellation, however briefly, and a warmer smile blooms across his face to feel the press of lips to his temple. Reaching out, Ronin slips an arm around the Lullaby, drawing him close against his side. "So do I. All the better for keeping my arms around you," he agrees, lifting his chin towards the Plaza below them.
"I swear I can hear vampire gourds," he says offhandedly.
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Uncorking the wine with his teeth so that he can slide an arm around the Star in turn, he holds it up against the light that he might see the ruby liquid within. "In a dream the other night, I had the bread and wine you and I shared on one of the first afternoons we spent together. Cramped in my home at a table hardly big enough for one person." The memory brings a radiant smile to Remi's lips that has him sighing fondly in its wake. 'Do you remember?' Ronin would of course, but sappy romantic that he was, Remi wanted to hear it.
Cocking his head to the side, Remi's smile is sly in acknowledgement. "I can smell them." He agrees. "I am not sure why it surprises me though. Maybe it is something about Cian that had me thinking such annoying things would not be allowed in Stormbreak."
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Ronin tilts his head at the bottle, watching the liquid slosh within, nearly black in the moonlight. As Remi speaks, the Star's smile grows and he turns his head to deliver a gentle kiss against his curls. "Of course I remember," he murmurs, his free hand slipping down to cover Remi's, pressing the other man's hand against his side. "Shortly after, I got stabbed right here, and you had to help me walk." With another kiss, Ronin chuckles and draws back. "That was our first date, if you think about it."
He scoffs out another laugh, peering down over the lip of the roof as if a rogue pumpkin might appear at any moment. "Perhaps he was the one who let them in. Maybe he's planning the biggest pumpkin pie Stormbreak has ever seen," he suggests. All around them, the world continues to rustle, impatient in a way that isn't remotely visible.
"Nights like these always remind me of being out on patrol with the Storm Guards. We used to walk the Wall, and tell each other horror stories to keep each other awake." Or to lay the groundwork to play pranks. Either or.
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Remi shivers at the memory, thinking how far he'd come from a man who shied away from Ronin's touch as much as he had from the blood that leaked from his side. Snorting under his breath, Remi can't help but chuckle as he gives Ronin a look over his shoulder. "Well, if it was, it must not have made much of an impression. I distinctly recall you being quite taken by a few others after that date." Once it hadn't been, but now it was so easy to talk about, with years and crises and deaths that separated the two men from those memories. "It was not our time then." He murmurs sweetly, his fingers tightening around the Star's hip.
Raising a brow at that, Remi can't help but crinkle his nose. "He would. Something about Cian very much suggests he would be concerned with baking on the brink of war. Though maybe that is Amalia's influence. I bumped into her, the other day." He adds with an offhanded shrug.
"Oh? Life was so easy for you that you had to invent stories to keep yourselves awake?" Remi's tone is teasing, even as he rolls his eyes. "Go on then. Let's hear your best one."
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Well you see, none of my other dates at that time had ended up with me being stabbed," Ronin says breezily, grinning and leaning in to kiss the corner of Remi's mouth, briefly setting him aglow under the light of his antlers. "No, it wasn't," he agrees. "But you were worth the wait - every minute of it." And to prove it, Ronin takes a bite of the cookie in his hand and offers it out to Remi to share.
Baking, then, is a good subject for them to end up on, Ronin straightening up and raising his eyebrows to hear that Amalia of all people had been sighted. In public. By Remi. "I thought she had moved into a library in the Tower somewhere." he admits. "What is she up to these days?"
Nudging his husband in response to his teasing, Ronin narrows his eyes. "This was back in the days when I actually got tired at night, thank you very much. But fine, fine..." The Star pauses for a few moments to think, before shifting to sit a bit closer to his husband (if possible).
"There was a story they used to tell, back where I lived in Northwind, about a lady you could see at night sometimes, around the shores of the lakes. They say she was a high ranking duchess, once - married well, had two beautiful children, the whole shabang. But one night she caught her duke in bed with another woman. And when she found out, mad with rage and grief, she gathered her children and brought them to the lake, where she drowned them". Pause for effect. Also pause for a paragraph break.
"When she realised what she had done, she drowned herself as well to escape from her sins. But, unable to enter the afterlife to join them, her ghost roams the shore to look for her lost children. They say you can hear her crying at night, but to follow the sound is to invite tragedy onto your family."
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
"So you're saying..ours was unique. And gave you something that stays with you for life. And god your blood pumping." Raising his brows and pursing his lips into a frown, the alchemist exhales a disappointed sigh. "Sounds pretty good to me. I am not sure what else I could have done." He adds, as if that fact that he was Narnia-levels of closeted at that point had nothing at all to do with it. All snark and sarcasm fall away as the cookie is offered—sharing food was one of Ronin's most genuine offerings of love after all.
Remi's brows raise in response as if to say I know. "Oh, you know. Being Amalia." Because the thread hasn't finished. "She's thin as a rake and ghostly pale." He adds with a worried half-shrug that only ends up bringing him closer to Ronin.
Listening to Ronin's story, though the alchemist doesn't interrupt verbally, his facial expressions are loud enough. When Ronin has finished, the scowl on Remi's face is deep, leaving lines carving across his forehead as he gives his husband an intent stare. "...you are right. You bluebloods are terrifying." It isn't sarcasm either. Much as Remi wants to criticize a woman for drowning her children and herself over a simple act of infidelity, that it was something he might have expected from the duchesses and dukes of Northaven made it all the worse. "Even so, I cannot believe that would keep a bunch of horny storm guards up at night." He adds, nudging Ronin for good measure.
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Nodding seriously back at his husband, Ronin even manages to keep a straight face as he reaches the culmination of his story. "We are," he agrees, already knowing that his husband is not likely to be thinking of the ghostly elements of his tale. Remi, for all of his changes in appearance and his coming out of Narnia to eat turkish delight, is still as politically aware as ever of the nuances between classes in Northaven. Leaning in, he kisses the alchemist's cheek, raising his eyebrows in a mix of outrage and curiosity.
"Maybe not on its own, but when someone wraps themselves in a sheet and starts weeping and wandering the Wall, it can keep you on your toes," he points out, before nudging Remi and reaching for the wine to take a sip. "Have you got anything better?" he wonders. "Or is it just going to be like my story, but in a different place?"
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Remi endures the kiss (inwardly, it warms him to his core, but he's a facade to maintain after all). 'Must be nice to have so many extra sheets that you can ruin a few with holes and think nothing of it." The alchemist grumbles back. For all that he is now, there is still part of him that wants to staunchly defend the life he was forced to lead. "Are you sure it was weeping that was going on under those sheets...?" Holes cut in cloth and sounds that approximated crying might not have been as full of horror and dread as Ronin was making out.
"Of course I have something better." Sitting up, Remi huffs indignantly. "I am the one who listened to Vai's bedtime stories if you recall." He points out. And, because he isn't a barbarian like his husband, Remi's story begins with "...once upon a time..
On nights with no moon, legend has it that you can hear the sound of drums and the precise footfalls of hundreds of soldiers marching perfectly with one another. Nearer to the ocean you can hear conch shells being blown as well, and though there are all these noises, not a single leaf is ever disturbed nor a footprint found. Thousands of soldiers rise from their burial sites or where they've been lost at sea and any who they encounter who do not show the appropriate respect are forced into their ranks, or who have ancestors already in the ranks."
Of course Remi's ghost story would have to do with forced service and blue-ties offering benefits.
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Remi's serious facade only has a shit-eating grin spreading across Ronin's face, and he takes a very healthy swig of wine before offering the bottle out to his husband and grabbing another cookie. Cheese is for later. "We don't kiss and tell in the Storm Guards," he informs the other man, straightening up a fraction as if possessing even a hint of his old authority. It's a filthy lie, of course - he'd kiss Remi and tell everyone, soldier or no soldier.
"Oh, go on then," he grumbles around his cookie. "I'll have to ask Vai to tell me her best bedtime story, next time we visit." But he nonetheless settles in, preparing to be horrified and wowed by Remi's tale of terror.
And it is pretty haunting - the wrinkling of Ronin's nose says that much - but his spine remains untingled. "I guess that's only unfortunate for people who are rude," he says airily. "Everyone knows you show respect to a huge, marching group of soldiers."
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Utterly unable to help himself, Remi leans over to kiss away crumbs and the lingering blush of wine from his husband's lips. The kiss is neither chaste nor lingering, but somewhere sweetly in between. It warms the alchemist's belly in a way that the faded Longheat sun could never manage, soothing him right to his core. "Sorry." He mumbles apologetically as his dimples deepen. "I was not listening to a thing you said. I just really wanted to do that."
At the culmination of his tale, feeling as though he'd certain come out on top, Remi frowns and opens his mouth to argue. "Oh do we all know that? And just how? Because running away would get you brought into their ranks, as would just staring at them. Apparently, the only way to avoid it, was to lay face down in the dirt." Smugly, Remi gives Ronin a look that dares the Star to say that is the first thing he'd do when set upon by a massive army.
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Caught in the sudden kiss, it's absolutely a dangerous sort of game that Remi plays when he comes swanning up here to the roof with Ronin in this kind of mood, not that the Star cares even a little bit. He's already turning towards his husband even as Remi draws back, his arm slipping down to the other man's hip to draw him closer. Only then he's asking about armies and shit, the Star's brow furrowing in confusion, then in outrage, but as his lips part to argue back he realises the truth of Remi's words.
He would not lie down in the dirt when faced with a massive army.
No, he'd more likely do something really fucking stupid.
"Shut up," he decides eventually, leaning in for another kiss and shifting to try and draw Remi astride him on his lap. Ronin is warm, probably warmer than usual, but this is a familiar game for them by now. Leafchange comes, the Star goes a little crazy, it's funny for a while and then they wait until sanity returns with the snow. Easy.
soft spoken with a broken jaw we step outside, but not to brawl
Drawn easily into the Star's lap, Remi's arms are about his husband's neck before he realizes that he's moved. Shifting his legs tighter around Ronin to anchor himself there, Remi leans in for a kiss that dares to be just a bit more mischievous before he suddenly stills in Ronin's grip. His muscles coil while he shifts his gaze just to the right side of Ronin's head. With eyes narrowed and suddenly gone quite dark, Remi is caught in the pull of one of the few urges that has the power to overshadow his near-constant want of his husband.
MYURDUR.
Ronin He whispers silently as his body makes minute adjustments to prepare. On three, you are going to put your hands under my thighs, lean back, and throw me into the air. Remi doesn't bother to give more details than this, to ask if Ronin is ready, or do anything else other than assume the Star will unquestioningly go along with these instructions.
one...two...three—
Who are you? They ask. Death? Sometimes... I say. But not today
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
