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!
A bright flower of confusion blooms from Nate’s side of the bond, enough that it actually makes him pause, curious gaze settling on the bigger cat. There’s something he’s missing here, something that sowed the seeds of... whatever it is Locke feels for Sunjata. But it’s buried quickly, and Nate is an old hand at leaving things beneath the ground undisturbed.
Besides, his ambush, and the game it turns into, is a much more exciting train of thought. Nate twists, not expecting the paws on his shoulders or the teeth in his throat, but no part of him complains. If he’s being honest, and really, he has no choice but to be honest through the bond, this is exactly what he wanted.
I’m not made of glass. Nate’s voice teases in Locke’s head, smug and bright. Back legs kick out to try and break the attuned’s grip, Nate wanting to jump back and make some distance between them before he charges forwards again, sending them into another tumble with nothing more than determination and big paws.
Let’s admit, without apology,
what we do to each other
They can talk about complicated relationship things another day. For now he wants to wrestle and Nate seems keen on giving him that. Do you want me to be rough, Nate? Something lusty and dark crackles along the bond and Locke isn't even mad about it. He's having fun so why stop now? Plus, whatever awkward nervousness he's used to melts away in this form. All that's here is aggression, in all of it's forms.
He lets the other cat break away, rolling back onto his feet and keeping low to the ground. Ears pinned back and tail lashing, he waits, watching the way the muscles tense under Nate's fur. Another beat passes and he rises up to meet him, grabbing him again to toss him down. As much fun as being under Nate is, he's got something to prove, to someone. He bites for the other cat again, harder if it lands.
I want a fight sweetheart. Lust drops off Nate’s words, swirling with the violence that lurks just under the surface of his deep waters and twisting into something hot and heavy in the bond. Big paws press into the sand, sinking and stretching as muscle bunches up and Nate pounces again, only half expecting the same trick to work a second time.
Still, he doesn’t expect to be pushed back, doesn’t expect to feel his back against the hot sand. A thrill runs through him, burning even hotter than before as teeth dig into his shoulder. Nate swats at Locke, trying to twist them again, something taunting in his mental voice when it rings between them again. C’mon, hit me with your best shot!
Let’s admit, without apology,
what we do to each other
A fight? A real one? Is he not a demigod and Locke but a lowly little Attuned? A low growl bubbles up in his chest, golden eyes narrowing as he watches the black cat before him. Only for you. It drips with sarcasm. But his attack lands and triumph ripples through the bond. A massive paw catches the side of his head and he releases his bite, another growl deep in his chest.
But he lets Nate roll them, claws digging into the other's shoulders so as to not be broken apart. Does he forget that Locke is bigger in this form? And more full of himself? As soon as he's on his back, he kicks, intent to throw Nate if he can. If this was serious, he would try to gut him but he doesn't feel like explaining that to Sunjata. Not that he thinks he'd get a chance.
Excitement ripples through Nate, through the bond, a feline tongue coming out to lick at his chops, the only action he gets to take before they’re clashing again. This is what he’d been looking for, what he’d been trying to get fighting his shadow in the sun. He lets the growl that leaves Locke fuel him, Nate’s own teeth sinking in somewhere around the Jaguars shoulder while they roll. Nate retreats again when he’s kicked, once again circling and considering his options.
So who changed you sweetheart? Nate growls, trying to distract Locke as much as he’s trying to goad him into fighting harder. Who brought out the beast, huh? There’s something dangerous in his silent tone, claws menacing Locke’s chest, threatening to press too hard.
Let’s admit, without apology,
what we do to each other
Oh, here it is, the question he was hoping to avoid. He'd grin if he had lips, Nate will have to settle for some kind of self satisfaction that crackles through their bond. Are you worried, Kitten? M'sure you're not a fan of Safrin. Is this stupid? Yes. Does Locke care? Absolutely not. Especially with Nate's claws digging into his skin. He can feel the pin-prickle of blood starting to bead up under his fur. He's never been injured in this form and he can't say he's not curious. So many things to learn.
He snaps his teeth in Nate's face, inches from his nose. Not that it was Safrin, of course. Frey changed me. Gave me claws. To protect himself, to protect Maeve, to protect whatever their life would be after this. He hates to think he might have to use them against Nate. He kind of likes the guy. The feeling is snapped away as quickly as it bubbles up to the surface and he rears back, intent on clawing the other cat. Nate has made him bleed one too many times.
The nickname has Nate's mind rankling, even while his tongue dips out to wet his chops, a new hunger evident in the twist of muscles beneath fur. Blood paints the tips of Nate's stolen claws, tinting the air between them with iron and igniting a low rumble in the ascended's chest, too soft to be a growl and too rough to be a purr. You're better than that jealous bitch. No small amount of venom curdles through the bond with the words, resentment and jealousy on full display.
To hear that it's not the star bitch though? Relief oozes through the bond. I'm glad I won't be losing someone else to her greedy hands. Nate admits. Locke is an easy friend to have, one Nate wants to keep for as long as possible, but with the way he is positioned opposed to the herald... it makes it difficult.
Nate blinks slow and content as Locke's claws make contact with the side of his face, sending him sprawling to his side and landing as a man in the sand. A bright, hysterical gasp of laughter leaves Nate, stretching breathlessly on and on, fighting against the crash of waves for attention. When he finally rises again, brushing sand off his shirtless body, he steps towards Locke to rest a firm hand between feline ears. Fluid dries quickly on his face, scabbing diamond-like where claws have opened wounds on Nate's jaw. "You'll have to show me more of your claws when I don't have to run, huh sweetheart?"
With one final laugh chuffing out of him, Nate turns on his heel to disappear up the cliffside, pausing only to gather up his clothes.
Fin~
Let’s admit, without apology,
what we do to each other
