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 bark of a laugh leaves him before it’s tempered into something softer with the turn of conversation. It’s certainly a thought, though, one that amuses him to no end and he’s sure to bring it up later when looking for what kind of cut outs Isla planned to make if only to keep Varus on his toes. But the subject now is more somber, more full of worries, and he’s always tried to be a good partner, a good boyfriend, one that would be a stable support for her to lean against when she needed it most.
So as she leans against him, he squeezes her shoulders again. “Of course we are.” He teases her, flashing an amused fanged smirk despite leaning into the kiss to his cheek, shuffling himself a bit closer to her so her arm wraps around him just as easily as his wraps around her shoulders. His head angles toward her a fraction, the long hair falling across his brow and nearly to his shoulder now as he considers it. “I trust you, Isla. More than anyone else. And I’ve been a Grounds man for quite some time. You always take into consideration people’s opinions on the matter. You’re smart. I trust that you have yourself, your home, and all of those you’re in charge of, in your best interests.”
He squints at her for a second before a smirk crosses his face again and he bounces a brow. “Isn’t that kind of a medic thing though, too?”
Already buoyed by his words, Isla doesn't expect Varus to continue, and as his voice hits the crisp, Deepfrost air, the medic finds herself falling to a sudden halt. It's with a soft smile on her face and tears in her eyes (that she's trying very hard to blink away) that she leans up to seal his lips with a kiss, her arms winding around his shoulders. "You're kind of a medic thing," she whispers, though that's about the extent of the sense he's going to get out of her for the time being.
With another kiss (and a third), Isla eventually parts enough so that they can continue to walk back home, closing her eyes and more than trusting him to keep them steady for the time being. "I'm lucky to have a good support network around me," she murmurs. "Aren't I, Captain?"
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
She halts suddenly and Varus stills himself with her, his oceanic gaze seeking out her face, his hands slipping along her arms to wrap loosely around her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Guess I am, huh?” At least, when it comes to being chosen by a medic, right? That makes sense? Either way his voice is muffled when she presses the kiss to him.
At the very least, though, she showers him with kisses and Varus dives into them headfirst, reluctantly pulling away when she does so they can walk back to the house. His arm is around her again and he carefully guides them away from the slippery ice covered edges of the pathway, humming a soft laugh as she calls him Captain. “You’re incredibly lucky, Ms. Lockwood, to have such a focused and dedicated Captain there for you whenever you need him to be.” He drawls, looking over to her and flashing her a playful smirk and a wink.
Isla has no heartbeat these days but she still swears she feels it flutter in her chest as she settles in beside Varus, her free hand sneaking into his pocket as they stroll away from the Bone Bridge and back towards the ruined streets and the Sanctuary that lays beyond them. "Whenever I need him to be, hm? You know, where I used to be from, they would have called you a bodyguard. I was a duchess, after all." She chuckles.
"Funnily enough, I used to need them. Not as a duchess, but as a field medic. No one wants your doctor to get killed, you know?" It feels a lifetime ago now - and yet it doesn't at the same time. Perhaps one of these days she'd be playing a similar role. Sooner rather than later, if they're especially unlucky. "What part will you play when the war comes?" she wonders, her voice softer.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Hm. Well, am I better bodyguard than I am a boyfriend, or a better boyfriend than a bodyguard?” He poses the question, complete with the whole tapping his chin with the fingers from his freehand as if he’s deep in thought. “I certainly can’t be great at both, now can I?” He drawls with a playful tease, a rumble of laughter that rattles through him.
He appraises her as they round the corner to the path toward home, the Sanctuary creeping up on them quite swiftly now. “No, nobody likes that thought at all.” And he certainly didn’t when it came down to it. Not just because she was his girlfriend as well as his leader. Because she only wanted to help and heal people. She is good, and Varus could say it until he’s grey in the face (haha) but he thinks that if he does it might lose its meaning.
For now, though, the thought of war spurs him back and he’s uncharacteristically silent while he thinks. “Depends on how this war goes. A striker if we need one. A defender if they start it.” He answers honestly, his oceanic gaze slipping back to her. “I do plan on always being around to defend you though.” Because war was war and to Varus? Isla was the most important one out of everyone else.
"You certainly can, and you are." Isla smiles to him, hopping over a small snowdrift as they round the corner on the path, and she raises her eyebrows as she suddenly realises the way they've come. "But then again I don't think I've had you as a bodyguard yet. A boyfriend, though? You're first class," she informs him, suddenly nudging him with her hip and nodding down a small alleyway; either they can continue on the path and go home, or they can detour through the alley and maybe they'll end up at a certain, strange little room in the Grounds?
Still, talk of war keeps the flirtatious thoughts from her lips, and instead Isla nods as she puzzles it all through. "Don't waste your talents sticking next to me, though," she warns him softly. "I'll probably be at a defensive point, wherever that happens to be. I don't plan on being a sitting duck, but as a doctor I know where I belong in a fight."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Hey now.” Varus rumbles with a hum of a laugh, a roll of his eyes quite playfully. “You’re just flattering me.” He protests, squeezing her back as she nudges him with her hip, realigning their movements toward a certain little room rather than straight home. (And truthfully, if Varus was still a young man and not Ascended, he wouldn’t have made it this far before showering her in attention.)
The talk grows a bit more somber and Varus nods to her. “I plan on making my little strikes where I can, but for the most part it’s hanging back. Being a shadow, kinda. I’ll be there but I won’t.” Here he nudges her back with his hip, flashing a wink toward her before he leans in to press his lips to her temple, as well as to whisper in her ear. “And if it starts to get messy I’ll be right here.” Because that’s what he did – protect the most important of them all. And to him? Isla was the top of it. A doctor, a leader.
"And so what if I am?" Isla teases, stepping closer to him (if possible) now that they have their sights set on somewhere that isn't home. "I feel like assassins don't get flattered very much, what with all the wearing black and blending into the background. The biggest compliment is that you aren't seen, right?" Or at least, that's the case when the assassin in question isn't also her boyfriend.
I'll be there but I won't is more reassuring than Isla expects it to be, and the medic doesn't bother to hide the way her cheeks grow round with the force of her smile. "I suppose I will be able to hear you as well, right? As long as you are wearing your mask," she murmurs.
And as he leans in to whisper in her ear she feels a shiver start from the base of her neck and travel all the way down the length of her spine. "You'd better be. Otherwise how will I make sure you stay fighting fit?" she whispers back.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
Another rumbling laugh leaves the Ascended, a slight shake of his head as their trajectory changes. “Suppose that’s true.” He mutters, shrugging his shoulder with the metal arm on it as his gaze finds her face again. “I do love being seen most days, though. Especially by you.” This comes out more as a tease as the dirt path turns to cobblestone beneath their feet, covered in a small dusting of snow – a well worn footpath among the rest of them.
“I’ll definitely be wearing the mask.” He agrees surprisingly bright – a chipper tone in his voice as he flashes a bright fanged grin Isla’s way as he leans in to whisper in her ear. He can see the small tells of a shiver and it brings a silver flush to his cheeks, his steps slowing a fraction as he considers what she says, remaining close by her ear. “There’s other ways.” He offers with a light purr slipping into his tone.
And with the way he’s grown quite distracted, they pause just briefly outside that special room of the Grounds, for Varus to lean in and press a kiss to her neck just under her ear as his arm tightens around her shoulders.
"Mm, well luckily for you I can see in the dark. And I will always be looking out for you." Both figuratively and literally, if Isla has her way. Leaning in against his side, it's with a pulse of warmth that she remembers the first time seeing Cal in that mask; when he'd darkened her doorway, brooding and hurt, and she'd threatened him. It would make her laugh if she wasn't busy blushing about it.
It's a blush that only intensifies as his voice continues to purr into her ear, and they both pause outside the room they're both hoping is unoccupied, as if to continue to tease themselves for no other reason than because they can. "I believe it. But perhaps you can show me," she suggests, her eyes slipping shut and her neck tilting to expose more of it to his lips. Isla can't wind her arms around him like she wants to by virtue of still holding onto her medical back, but she does try to snatch a real kiss from his lips, humming a note of playful impatience against them.
"Perhaps you could show me right now."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Gods, I am lucky.” He hums, drawling and fawning playfully, though there’s a hidden beat of heat beneath his gaze when he leans in to whisper in her ear as they stop in front of the building. A crooked smirk crosses his face as she offers more of her neck, the Assassin slipping in and pressing more delicate kisses down the column to her collarbone, nudging his way into the edge of her coat to continue.
However, her suggestion and impatience has him chuckling a cool breath against her neck, withdrawing from her to scan her more fully. Eventually he nods, however, the dark locks of his hair bouncing around as they frame his face, and he reaches up to brush it back with his freehand before stepping up to the doorstep with her, knocking on it just to make sure it’s unoccupied. When he’s satisfied, he opens the door. "Think we're in the clear."
There isn’t anyone inside, thankfully, and Varus is quick to slip inside and tug Isla along with him, turning back to shut the door (or perhaps slam it shut, he can’t tell with the rush of greediness and need that courses through his system). And he absolutely flips the lock on it before turning back toward Isla – a silver flush that covers his cheeks and sneaks down his neck.
"Not as lucky as I am," Isla protests, the hand not holding the bag sneaking up to tease through the back of his hair, giving it a playful tug that will doubtlessly feel a lot more enticing when they are sequestered in the room at their backs. And Cal doesn't waste any more time, something the medic can appreciate as she follows along in his wake.
Whilst he's busy locking the door - in the clear indeed - Isla has already dropped her bag and is unknotting her scarf from around her neck, abandoning it on the ground at her feet. She's managed to unbutton her coat as well by the time Cal's eyes lock on hers, and Isla almost feels undone by virtue of just being able to have him like this.
"Gods," she all but purrs, because that's the only thing her addled mind can think to say. And it's with fire burning in her veins and silvering her cheeks that she sweeps forward to seal his lips with a kiss. He tastes like cold Deepfrost nights and blood and leather, and as Isla loops her arms around his neck she's already rocking her hips teasingly against him. "It feels like forever since we did this last."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
If he could still get true shivers and goosebumps, her hand raking through his longer dark hair would’ve certainly spurred a whole host of them along his neck and shoulders. For now, though, it just brightens the tinge that covers his skin the second they’re in the room. He locks the door, turns to face her, flushed as much as an Ascended can be, but he barely has a chance to say anything when she approaches swiftly – a kiss connecting them as he drops whatever he’d been holding (if anything, it truly doesn’t matter now), to press against her and chase the taste of her lips.
Her hips rock against his and it’s infuriating at first, the edge of a growl slipping from him as he pulls away, to run his kisses along her jaw and her cheek, arms slipping around her to pick her up (made a bit easier with the metal arm, less bits of skin to twist and be uncomfortable when it’s simply smooth metal). “It might have actually been forever.” He hums to her in a lower tone, his amusement quirking the corners of his lips as he walks them back toward the bed. “At least this time I’m entirely myself.” He winks to her. Not broody, not needing a pick me up, no. He’s fully in this.
And certainly she should be able to tell given the way his pants tighten, the pressure pressed against her hips with each footstep toward the bed that drives him wild.
Isla gasps - a mingling of surprise and pleasure - as Cal hitches her up into his arms; she reaches out to direct his lips back against her own, her fingers tightening in his hair as if to draw another frustrated grumble from his throat. "Mm, and what does being entirely yourself entail?" she wonders, already trying to kick off her shoes (they clonk awkwardly nearby) as they approach the bed.
Only once she's either set down or wriggles down (or pulls them down) onto the bed does she shrug properly out of her coat, hooking her calf around Cal's waist to try and drag him on top of her. "Forever is too long," Isla mumbles. "We'll have to make this a more regular thing." Maybe then she won't be trying to unbutton his shirt with such haste that she risks ripping it open.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
