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!
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
He refrained from the rolling of his eyes for the thousandth time, maintaining a semblance of something between a snort and a harsh breath outward, already convinced regardless, but willing to tug and irritate simply for the sake of being himself. A future endeavor for brighter spots on bleaker days, when they could ignore harsh outlines and horizons, revel in newfound skills and one another, rather than war and bloodshed.
The lure and enticement was enough anyway – emboldened blending of familiarity and flairs – responses imminent on quickening pulses and afforded patience. Height differences almost made him laugh, but he bent enough so Evie wasn’t pulled haplessly along, senses heightening as he could feel her hands beginning to wander, roam, skin undulating still under the caresses. Muscles bound and coiled, and then he could only growl in response to her incoming tactic – a low conjecture that could’ve conveyed a myriad of reactions – and mimicked the same. Teeth catching, snagging, but releasing within an instant; teasing, baiting, while his fingers hovered downward, intermingling along crimson locks.
Future plans - even ones that might entail their trip back home, closer at hand than nebulous dates days or weeks away - wash out of her mind like seafoam on a receding tide. Leaving her washed clean and focused solely on the here and now.
His growl rumbles against her mouth, and it shakes through her like an earthquake, tasting the edge of something yet untouched and full of promise. The revenge should have been expected, but as the soft flesh of her mouth gives to the pressure and insistence of his teeth her own breathy whine comes to the fore, fingers gripping restlessly at his forearm where their journey has led them. The hand in her own hair is a further pleasant distraction, torn between tilting backwards into his touch and pressing forward into his mouth. The latter wins out, tongue tracing the seam of his lips in a playful flick before retreating.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
A soft laugh escaped from his lungs at her whine; fingers further entangling, unwinding, amongst crimson tresses, mouths closer and closer still. Mischief wound its way through his mind, but not before relishing in other senses, semblances playing out like a gentle, unfurling inferno. Her tongue only brought forth another growl, other promises and convictions very suddenly unbidden, but he didn’t relent nor retreat.
Maybe she was playing with fire, while the plumes of the springs rose around them, vestiges of heat and warmth lingering on multiple surfaces. He chased, predacious to a fault, his own tongue intentionally following, tracing –
Before the devilry took over again, and his mouth widened into a feral grin, eyes still closed and committing to touch, to feel, to taste – while water incantations began once more. Summoned and looming, crawling and inching upward, where they might haphazardly splash at her back.
She has never been a simpering, soft maiden, prone to weak knees and idle hands, but she melts into the way Deimos threads his fingers deep into her hair, the depth of his noises aching their way into her bones. Slow, she tries to remind herself, because he is more to her than a body to warm a bed or an empty shape inside herself. But she is greedy all the same, chasing the mischievous flicker of his tongue with her own so they might meet, hand encircling his wrist to press her fingertips just over his pulse. Beating there against her skin so that both hands measure the pump of his heart, proprietary and clinging at the same time.
So lost in their intertwined figures, Evie doesn’t notice his devilry until it’s upon her, their lips parting on a blurted sound of shock as she nearly climbs him, startled out of her skin. “Deimos!” she cries, the first thing to come to her tongue, some twisted sound of laughter, accusation, and disbelief. Slapping his chest ineffectually she narrows her eyes until they’re mere slivers of blue, mirth restrained but twitching vainly on the corner of her mouth which is plump and reddened from being freshly kissed. “You’re lucky the water is warm,” she mutters, pressing a kiss to his clavicle that lies nearer than his mouth, only to nip gently in rebellious retaliation.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Perhaps that was why he’d reverted to mischief and devilry – a slowing, rather than them burning and scorching and setting ablaze all within a moment – for he’s never been one to partake in conflagrations simply because he could. Rapacity might exist alive and well in his chest, but so did patience and perseverance, and he took to individuals that could stand the way he slowly carved and sculpted, whittled and waned. He trusted and cherished in rare, stubborn, stalwart instances, and broke a little more when they faded and snapped.
They had time.
Her shock sent another burst of laughter looming along the springs, echoing and bounding and reverberating off the walls when there’d only been their quiet before – the twisted depths of his grin all the more ridiculous. The slap signified nothing, as if fingers didn’t touch, and he tilted his head a fraction, teasing again. “I can change that.” The kiss and nip on his collarbone only instigated a bending of his frame, a ghost of a breath over her ear, before teeth bit along the tip – and then a faster pace away, away, away, creating distance for his next reign of terror.
Making good on his promise, with snaps of splashes that were altered, cold to the touch.
Time aplenty, and their hours devoted to these springs and their cavern have yet to reach an end. The days, weeks, months beyond this day’s borders all coalesce into untouched, untapped potential. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed at all. As his laugh booms and echoes around her, she is reminded of exactly that. He is still Deimos, she is still Evie, and the nebulous future of DeimosandEvie is one that can be learned through experiencing it firsthand.
It starts here, in threads of devilry and mischief, in teeth and tongue - and tongue-in-cheek, as he pulls away to leave her bare and wanting, cold in spirit if not in body. That changes moments later, the chill of commanded water at cruel contrast to the heated pool they stand in, forcing her to curl away and yelp her objection. Seeking the salvation of the hotspring’s depths, Evie dives under the surface, chasing the cold away while pursuing Deimos at the same time. Utilizing the streamlined form he’d just taught her to streak to his side in one push, hands aiming for his ankle as she bids the earth beneath his feet to buckle and dip, pulling on his calf at the same time in hopes of toppling him down into the water with her.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The yelps were enough to rattle contentment through his mind – the slow, lazy smile igniting all the way to his gaze – the open laughter as she pursued only instigated further satisfaction. There might’ve been a quip in her sudden swimming ability, but it dashed away behind his teeth the moment the earth rippled beneath his feet, and the Sword could only snort, acknowledging her request without tripping and fumbling around like a fool, ensuring stability with his own Mastered effects.
Smoothly, effortlessly, accustomed to this element just as well as the mountains, the monolith took a single breath, and dove beneath the plumes of heat and swells. Gaze narrowing in the sporadic movements of both Evie and the bubbles, he pinpointed his calculations to a finite degree, before ensuing Mastered Water fixtures pushed and cajoled in a mighty surge and wave. Not enough to toss anyone into shallower pools or amidst the rock outcroppings, but certainly to buy time for a pretense of escape.
As air lies trapped in her lungs reminding her of the spontaneous nature of her pursuit, any chance for retaliation and parrying of his efforts is stolen from her hands as the water around her encases the span of her limbs, carrying her away like the tide. Evie surfaces with a stubborn set to her jaw and fire in her eyes that sparks embers down her veins, never knowing when to quit.
“I can do this all day,” she declares as she stands, aware that she definitely can’t but willing to pretend in order to make her point. Pulling her wet hair back over her shoulder, the Evergreen laughs, her own vocals higher and brighter but no less unrestrained as the sound bounces off the cavern walls. “Or is this my training now since I made up my laps?” Lips curl, coy and satisfied, because she had at least won that much.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Rising back to the surface, his eyes narrowed back at her, uncertain if it was a challenge, a threat, a goading, or an airing of foolishness. Probably all of the above, but given their antics now, it wasn’t a surprise. “Likewise,” he mentioned with a nefarious grin, willing and able to prove the measure of his point.
If there had been one.
“Perhaps,” came across the wake of the pool in its own thunderous roll. Maybe he should have encouraged her to try and catch him as a doomed cat and mouse game. Maybe he’d already been snagged. Maybe it didn’t really matter, and the amusements were worth their weight and ridiculous pursuits.
But this time, from his perceived distance, he tilted his head and started other calculations – conjuring air and water together near her feet, steadily unfurling it along like a miniature whirlpool.
His conviction is far more believable, which is a terrible shame because Evie - for all her stamina - cannot hope to compare to the General’s training and accumulated power. The facade is worth it for the cut of his sharklike grin if nothing else, pleased to have seeded and sown that amusement and playful discord within him. Happy to make herself the mouse between his leisurely paws if it brings him predatory joy.
The ensuing incantations are unexpected, but far more enjoyable. As the water rushes past her legs, making her stagger as they gain traction and speed, the Evergreen laughs and lets herself go weightless, dropping down into the water to let it spin her along its fringes. Toting her past Deimos like an eager sacrifice to the mild depths below. “Come on!” she calls, one arm lifting to beckon him, already feeling the edges of dizziness pressing in on her temples and refusing to let it dissuade her. He’d accidentally made something more play than punishment, but she wouldn’t enjoy it as much on her own.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
For half a moment, the Sword crossed his arms over his chest, brows furrowed, as his tactics didn’t go quite to plan. And while machinations and calculations might’ve always been spinning around that mind built around war, antics ensued where he’d been expecting harmless terrorizing. A certain air of petulance began to rally through his spine, until her laughter ricocheted and pervaded, and he watched as she spun around helplessly and haplessly with little effort to cease the roll of water.
He could only blink as she was washed by him, snorting a little, before ultimately relenting.
Shaking his head, he pressed his way into the cyclical movements, until he was at her side, and they were both being funneled around the springs. “This is ridiculous,” he unfurled, with the juvenile grin returning, leaning back into the ministrations and permitting it to float him along, rather than adhering to his initial mood. Then, because escalating notions were also a beckoning grace, he permitted the option to pierce back into the churning, twisting system. “Faster or slower?”
It may have backfired against him, but Evie couldn’t be more ecstatic about it. Not only did it ensure she didn’t have to repeatedly embarrass herself trying to foil his plans and overcome his defenses, it was plainly fun and entertaining. Seeing his temporary, disgruntled state was merely the cherry on top. Being able to surprise and undermine him and his plans would never grow old.
Evie wasn’t entirely certain he’d join her even after her cajoling encouragement, so as he joins her - reclined unnaturally, and unfairly - the Evergreen laughs and reaches to hold onto him to share his buoyancy. Even his dismissiveness is hollow, his boyish grin indicative of his enjoyment well before he gives in plainly. “Faster,” she replies immediately, eager and gleeful. Amused that what had started as a punishment has quickly become something more akin to a carnival ride.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Leaving the options to her meant his calculations had already gone into different, pinpointed avenues. Slow had meant a leisurely crawl, some lazy river connotation where they could float around and likely flicker into other things. Fast meant swift, quick, strokes of the water, enough to catapult and launch and send them rampaging along. He’d take either, but certainly wasn’t going to tell her that.
With his juvenile grin back in place, he nodded his assent – widening the radius of the pool until it encompassed several yards, and then ensured the tides underneath Evie would permit her to float as well. He figured they’d be traversing rapidly enough that it might not matter, but it was a safety measure regardless.
Bemused, the Sword held the Evergreen tight to his side, bestowing the exact nature of her request with his mouth to her hairline in a brisk kiss, before escalating the water’s nature in a volleying spin. It immediately circumvented the designated area in a hasty, hurried series of revolutions – along with his laughter.
Slow could be leisurely and relaxing, certainly, but their afternoon had already veered so far off that particular path that it didn’t even seem worth entertaining the option now. Repose could be captured more easily than the heights of childish glee and physical fun; in nights beside the fire, or early mornings before the work began. In some ways this was harder to make time for, and thus more precious - especially when experienced together.
Magic seems so far from the evil, corrupting force she was always told it was in moments like this. Held close beneath Deimos’ arm, his lips at her hairline, the cloyingly thick air buffeting her face as they swirl about like children on a merry-go-round, laughing in discordant harmony that bounces off the walls back into their ears. Evie’s arm goes around Deimos’ waist in turn, doing so out of a desire to be close instead of a need, carried effortlessly by his masterful control even if they were not touching at all. Dizziness begins to set in, but all it does is make her laugh harder, turning her face into the crook of the Sword’s neck to shut her eyes in vain defense against the vertigo, so she might spin a while longer.
