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!
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
“If I fall I’ll turn into a bat so it’s less painful.” He retorts back to her, gripping the bottle tightly for fear he might drop it on the way up. He doesn’t, thankfully, but he’s nearly positive he would have if he hadn’t had such a tight grip.
The stairs are easy enough and Sunjata starts tugging his shirt off, surprisingly cautious of the horns to not tear a hole through it, but he’s less cautious when he tosses it in a pile on the floor in the corner of the room. He sits on the edge of the bed to take his boots off next, setting them off to the side as he listens to her ascertain her thoughts on the bed. “It is a nice bed.” He agrees, finally standing once more to walk toward the closer space of the loft, pulling out a pair of shorts with his tattooed back to Isla as she pats the bed.
“The Atheneum would’ve been the perfect spot I think.” It did have an air of creepiness, only due to the fact you couldn’t see in every corner and crevice. It’s an idle thought as he slips out of his pants, folding those up surprisingly nice, before slipping the shorts on. The wings on his shoulders seem to move with his own movement, before he’s turning back toward the bed, grabbing the bottle as he does so and sinks down onto it, propped up by the pillows as he tugs a blanket over his shark bite scarred legs.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Alright, Mister Know-It-All," Isla snarks to him affectionately, having quite forgotten about Sunjata the Menagerie, despite the spiralling, horned evidence right before her eyes. Grabbing up a couple of the blankets she'd folded, she gets comfortable with them while he putters about getting undressed, and in a wild, murder mystery romance novel of their own, this might be the part for covert glances and blushing.
But no. On the contrary - not only has Isla seen it all before, however scarred and handsome it might be (and it is, don't worry Sunjata) - but it's with an expression of baffled amusement that she watches him make absolutely zero sense. From the balled up shirt he's careful not to catch with his horns to the meticulously folded pants, the shorts he wiggles into and the whole ass bottle of liquor, the medic thinks hard about saying something, and opts (perhaps wisely) to do no such thing.
Instead, clearing her throat and opening the book, she casts a sidelong look at him. "If I hear you snoring I'll try to take it as a compliment," she jests.
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
He hums a laugh at her know it all comment before he begins to start getting undressed and ready for bed, throwing her for a loop with his thoughts on just how to organize the clothes he wears. He at least pays it little mind, returning to the bed with the bottle and nestling in, letting warm steel glances over her to the book she’s opened as he pauses to take a sip straight from the bottle.
“I hope you do.” He teases her, sticking a forked tongue out at her as if the alcohol has made him more juvenile. In a way, it has, but he doesn’t comment on it as he settles in.
His lips are still quirked up as he focuses on her and what he hopes becomes the start of the story. It was already better than the medical texts, giving him something to latch onto and paint a better picture than organs and surgeries with names he can’t pronounce even if he didn’t have as thick of an accent as he does.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Isla quite likes the surgeries and names of organs, thank you very much - it isn't her fault if Sunjata objects to her pointing out where each and every one of those organs are in his body, and what happens when they stop working. (She just can't win, if you ask her). Regardless, as he settles in beside her and she flicks open to the first chapter, the story begins as all good mysteries should - with a myurdur.
And so what if it takes Isla a little longer to get through chapter one, given that she pauses to tell Sunjata about the real circumstances of this imaginary person's death based on the wounds the inexperienced writer has given them. "At least," she adds, before delving back into the story proper, "if anything spooky does show up this Longnight, you'll know how to murder them properly."
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
He listens and watches, taking in the extra details Isla adds, wincing as he realizes just how additionally fucked up it would end up being, before he settles into the story proper. The first chapter goes by with as much interest as most stories begin — laying out the ground work in a somewhat boring fashion until the interest sparks up shortly after.
Granted, Sunjata doesn’t make it all that far into the second chapter, sinking deeper and deeper into the pillows until a snore gives him away. His dream is influenced heavily by the liquor and the story, as if transporting him into the Atheneum, where he’s been following a murderer (in a similar fashion to what he did in Korofi), before ending up getting too close to the murderer in this instance.
It causes him to wiggle around, long limbs spreading out and taking up more and more of the bed as he dreams.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
The snore is a dead giveaway (excuse the pun), and Isla smiles softly to herself and shifts to rescue the bottle of liquor from Sunjata and blow out the lanterns, before returning to get comfortable in bed. She continues to read, her voice soft and low - neither of them need the light to see by, and Sunjata is asleep besides, so it doesn't matter all that much. This is how most nights go, with varying levels of success.
For instance, as it becomes apparent that Sunjata is either dreaming or just being his tall self, and Isla gently lowers her book and moves to set it aside. With luck he'll settle back down (and not kick her out of bed), but you know, there's always a good old fashioned nightmare to fall back on. Which is why Isla reaches out to gently touch his shoulder, as if to try and rouse him enough before things risk getting bad.
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
It’s a bit of both, really. A different dream, not entirely a nightmare (yet), and as Sunjata continues to move he seems to take over parts of Isla too. A leg, at first, until her hand touches his shoulder and he seems to smooth out in the dream a bit more. But it doesn’t take long before that’s all for naught, because the second that everything seems calm, (luckily at this point a few hours later), he jolts with a gasp, sitting up as his body starts to paint itself in armored dragon plates, hands shifting to claws, and he tries to catch his breath.
And rather than saying anything about his typical nightmares like he usually would, he instead opts for the quiet, bewildered, slight growl of upset to say “that mother fucker.” in between his panting breaths, of course.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
It all seems fine, despite her dwindling amount of space, until it suddenly isn't. And as Sunjata bolts upright in bed, Isla does the same, albeit less frantically. She'd opted to lay down in the end, as she usually does at the latter point of the night, replaying medical procedures in her mind and recounting the steps until she's certain they're correct. None of that matters now, though, not between the dragonscale and the talons, and Isla brushes her hair out of her face to peer through the darkness at the Flood.
"Are you alright?" she asks softly, furrowing her brow and wondering whether he'd actually been awake as well, recalling something in his own mind. "We're in the loft, in the House of Midnight" she continues, offering anchor points to remind him. "It's Longnight. We were reading."
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
He takes a deep breath, settling as he realizes where it is he is, not that he’d entirely forgotten – mind you – but as he takes in his surroundings, slit steel meets Isla’s gaze in the dark of the room, and he works to try and figure out his mind and where exactly they were. Isla fills in the blanks, however, and he starts to realize it just when she finishes that she thinks he’s had a nightmare like he typically does.
This time, however, there’s a slight twitch of his lips in a slight sneer, tearing his gaze away from her to look around the loft. “I’m fine.” He pauses, trying to smooth out the claws and the scales with little success. “Had a dream about the book and just got murdered.” He breathes with a roll of his eyes, still half in the dream half not, trying to recall his own steps as to how it happened.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
It's strange - usually if Sunjata insists on being fine after one of the nightmares he frequently has, Isla has good reason to believe otherwise. This time, though, the sneer and the mild annoyance in his voice throws her off, and she tilts her head curiously at the same time as she reaches out as if to smooth the dragonscale off his arm.
"You just got murdered," she repeats, trying and failing to hide the small smile that flashes across her lips. "Gods, tell me everything. I'll write it down and when we're near the end of the book, we can cross-reference your dream to see if you were right." Properly smiling now, she gives him a cursory glance over to check he really is alright before settling back against the headboard.
"Sorry it gave you bad dreams, for what it's worth. I don't think it even got to any particularly bad parts just yet."
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
Her hand reaches out, resting on an arm of thick dragonscale, sharp plates scarred as he explains what he’d just experienced. Her amusement helps him smooth out his mind a fraction, slit steel focusing on her as she asks for him to tell her everything. It wouldn’t be the exact same, of course, but maybe it’d be close enough. So he sits up a bit more in the bed, lifts a clawed hand to rub at his temple, before he speaks again with a low, slightly hoarse voice.
“It probably won’t be very similar. It was combined with my old world.” His gaze slides back to her, letting himself start to even out, the claws and plates melting back into his skin, though the horns and the slit pupils remain. “In Korofi I was like… A guard. An officer.” He tries to make it better for her to understand, unsure and unable to remember if he’s told her what he’d done before. “So, back then it was my job to go after murderers and deal with other crimes.” His voice is still somewhat hoarse, but he trudges through anyway.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Careful," Isla murmurs automatically as a clawed hand comes up towards Sunjata's temple, as if worried he would forget they are there and accidentally flay himself. Shifting ever so slightly to face him as he sits up as well, she settles in to listen to his nightmare. Well, murder dream.
"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows, recalling one particularly strange evening spent in the Flood's company whilst he was mistakenly dosing himself with psychadelics. She remembers hearing about Korofi, hearing about blood on the floors and judgement and death and grief. They hadn't, however, gotten into his job before becoming a famous rebel.
And so, tilting her head curiously, Isla gestures for him to go on. "Back in Northaven we called it the Storm Guard. That would be the equivalent, anyway."
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
He’s always careful when it comes to his shifts and his movements, even if those claws are sharp enough that they cut a small thread of hair from his head, one that’s more and more silver as the months move on. So he bypasses her caution in favor for her question, her understanding and the comment made about the Storm Guard. He nods, recalling Ronin speaking of it once upon a time.
“Yeah.” He pauses, before he continues on. “So I was trained from a young age on how the laws worked and what we could and couldn’t get away with, how we were supposed to help or capture people who were threats. Anyway, it was before I joined the resistance.” When the murder dream took place, that is. His gaze slides over to scan Isla briefly before he looks away again, as if trying to recollect what exactly had happened. “So I have this group of people with me, other enforcers, and we’re following this trail but it splits us apart. I find the one that’s more likely to have him, but it’s underground and…” He huffs a sigh, a humorless laugh.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Ah, yes. All that seems like the exact thing one should spend their childhood doing," Isla remarks with a smile that comes off more like a wince. She doesn't apologise, because she knows Sunjata knows she's sorry, but it doesn't make it any easier to consider the past and the time they can never get back. (And even if Isla isn't showing any signs of age thanks to being Ascended, she imagines she'd have her share of silver in her hair these days).
But it's underground and... is both not enough and the exact right amount of information, and it's with a wrinkle of her nose that Isla gives his forearm another gentle pat. "And then he killed you," she guesses, shifting to pick up the book again from the side of the bed. "Do you want me to keep reading? Maybe it will help you drop back off for a bit."
