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!
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
Everything was as it should have been for the start of the brothel fleshing itself out. Granted, things would wait until he had a chance to speak to people as per Frey’s request, to give the House of Midnight something else to make it quite the wonder. But for now he’s been so focused on getting everything ready, and now the additional reminder that Isla had become Ancient, had now required food and sleep and drink (and gods she spent a fair amount of time at the bar these days, not that he has room to complain, but it surprised him after so long of her prim and proper status as an Ascended.)
It was a little bit relieving, but also amusing. There was something about the ferality in which Isla harbored that drew Sunjata in even more, like a moth to flame wanting to know more about what that sensation was like. But he’s held off for the most part.
Today specifically, he dons his leathery dragon wings, tucked in neatly behind him, horns similar enough to Isla’s own that curl and twist around his head on full display in their onyx hue, going from room to room to make sure everyone had whatever they needed so he’d know where he needed to make a stop to in the morning.
Likely a hunt for food and a restock from his liquor supplier. The hunting was easy, at least, and it’s a thought that has a sharper look to his gaze as if the predators lingering within his skin start to push against his hold, wanting nothing more than a hunt to be coated in blood. He stuffs it down as he rounds the corner for the bar, seeking out something easy to dull his senses a fraction.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
Prim and proper has been a necessity rather than a preference for Isla. And, whilst she's still a duchess at heart and still knows to behave like one... well, cut a girl some slack. It's been years since she was last able to taste a morsel of food or feel the effects of good liquor, let alone to sleep it all off afterwards, and it will take a while for the euphoria of having it all again to die down.
All that is to say that when Sunjata arrives at the bar, it will be to no one's surprise that the Remedy has beaten him there. Barefoot and in a shirt-dress that's open enough at the neck to bare the still-healing necklace of bruises around her throat, she's busy skewering the cherry out of her cocktail and listening with lazy, somewhat predatory intensity to a man attempting to, er, purchase her for the evening.
Isla isn't drunk but she isn't sober either, and while the look she's giving him could easily have come from her as an Ascended, now there's something vaguely threatening about it that completely goes over the guy's head.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
It isn’t exactly her that he’s seeking out for the ability to dull his senses. In fact when he finds her, it’s the complete opposite. His steel gaze spots the open back of her shirt and the bruises around it, biting back that dragon sense of possessiveness as he heaves a sigh and steps further into the room toward the bar. Just enough, it seems, to overhear the gruff voice of the man talking to her.
Now, usually, Sunjata was level headed enough to not pay too much attention, knowing she could fight her own battles if she needed to. It wasn’t like they were anything but friends, anyway. He doesn’t need to overstep that invisible line they’d laid in the sand. But he arrives, wings tucked in tight still, reaching over the bar brazenly for a glass and his favored whiskey, pouring himself a bit before turning to pour a little in Isla’s glass, in a way that seems to heavily suggest that he’s looming.
He lifts the glass and leans on his elbow, letting his gaze linger on the man propositioning her. “She’s not on the menu.” Comes the deeply accented voice, in part from him rationalizing that he doesn’t need to ward away the patrons before the brothel’s even taken off yet. But there is an air of possessiveness that wraps around him in the tick of his jaw.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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 tension rolls across the bar like a clap of distant thunder; unseen, but felt deep in one's bones. The barman backs off, as do a few of the other patrons gathered round, and Isla is just finishing the cherry garnish off her cocktail when a familiar hand comes and whiskeys up the drink for her. Cocking a smile in greeting over her shoulder at the Flood, the man he's speaking to visibly blanches.
Stammering an apology and making himself very scarce indeed, Isla is left watching his departing back slip away into the main room. With a sigh, she leans in to jostle against Sunjata a little. "I was quite enjoying that," she informs him as if he's ruined some game she was playing, all the while lifting her glass to hold it up to his in a toast. "You finished making your rounds?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
There’s a lot that can be said about the way he walks into a room, even in the okayest of moods, to where everyone sort of backs off and gives him space. He’s unsure if it’s due to the rumors that have spread about him or his status as a demigod, but regardless, it’s a sort of power that certainly enhances one’s ego. Perhaps he should start acting like he’s as strong as he is.
But that’s for introspection a bit later as the man disappears and Sunjata shifts the weight on his feet with how he’s leaning when Isla flashes him that smile and leans in a smidge. “Looked like you wanted to snap his neck.” He offers with a small crooked smile, clinking his glass against hers in a small toast, before he takes a sip of his and hums against the burn.
“Rounds are done, everything’s in order. I need to make a supply run tomorrow and hunt.” He informs her like he’s checking off a checklist. But given that she’s his partner in this, it’s vital she knows everything Sunjata intends to do as well.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
"Who says I didn't?" Isla reasons with a carefree roll of her shoulder, taking a generous sip of her freshly spiked cocktail and wincing ever so slightly against the strength of it, not that she's going to complain. "Mm, that's good timing - I need to get some supplies for the clinic as well," she says. One might think that Isla ought to be sober all the time, given that she's the resident doctor, but the clinic can have working hours now that she needs to sleep and eat and all that jazz.
"Do you want some company?" Tomorrow, she means. (Though it could apply to now as well, she supposes). "Or would you prefer one of us stay here to make sure everything runs smoothly? I can write you a list if it's easier." Granted, the idea of a hunt does make something stir within her that begs for release. Isla knows there's a shift lurking in her bones, but she hasn't gotten to stretch its legs yet.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
“Not exactly the welcoming party that would benefit the House of Midnight, hm?” He drawls as he starts to relax, amusement flaring in his gaze as his mood softens, as the burn of the alcohol helps smooth over the rougher parts of his mind. As she continues, however, he gives her his full undivided attention, wings rustling as they start to relax from their held position.
“I’ll take the company. I trust that this won’t burn down by the time we get back.” An amused sort of laugh leaves him as he goes to take another sip of the drink. “That and the last time I had a list it got a splash of water on it and I couldn’t figure out what the fuck the last three things on it were.” A crooked grin is shot at Isla before he pulls a barstool closer and sits atop it, swiveling to face away from the bar. “Do you want to come on the hunt too?” He asks, tilting his head back toward her.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
"No, I suppose not," Isla murmurs, swivelling her own bar stool to face the same way, settling back into it and sipping at her drink. "Don't tempt fate, though. With our luck, just saying it won't happen might encourage the place to spontaneously combust," she remarks, flashing Sunjata a smile and shifting to cross her legs (a movement that maybe shows the bruised imprint of a hand on her thigh, but who can say?)
Scoffing to hear his comment about the list, Isla holds her hand out as if he might conjure the new one from somewhere. "Maybe it's best I keep hold of it, then?" she suggests. "You do have a habit of splashing water about." Another sip of her drink causes a pleasant flood of warmth to burn through her chest and throat, and Isla still isn't over the novel sensation.
"I was hoping you would ask," she adds about the hunt, her smile growing a little softer even if the look in her eyes is more sharp. "I'd love to. What are you hunting?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
He snorts, wings rustling as they find a place to get comfortable with how his back settles nearer to the bar counter. “That’d be more of a headache considering I just told Frey about it.” And they’d given him a quest he still hasn’t made a move on. But that’s beside the point.
He glances back over at her, certainly spotting the brief flash of a handprint on her thigh, and that inner possessive part of Sunjata soothes with it, even as he clears his throat. “It’s part of the name.” He comments, covering any potential wavering or deepening of his voice with another sip of the liquor, enough that his glass is empty by the time he’s done and cradles it in his lightning scarred hand.
“Nothing too much. Big tickets would be any rogue cows or goats that aren’t accounted for.” A brief pause before he shrugs lightly. “Pheasants would probably be easier to come by.” He finds it in him now to be able to swivel on the chair again to face her more fully, his knee knocking into her in the process, but he pretends not to notice. “Was just going to see what the day gave us.”
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
"Mm, we wouldn't want to upset anyone," Isla agrees, finishing her own drink for no other reason than it's what Sunjata seems to be doing. They aren't quite close enough yet for her to know his particular tells, and given that she's not exactly sober to begin with, it all skims blissfully over her head. "No," she drawls in mock disbelief, apparently unable to fathom the thought that the Flood might have something to do with water.
Turning - and inadvertently starting a knee-knocking war with Sunjata - to set her empty glass down on the bar, Isla sunnily smiles for a new drink. "I think we can find a rogue cow or two between us," she says with all the confidence of someone who has no idea where to even start looking, but that's a tomorrow problem.
"Aren't you uncomfortable with your wings out?" she asks suddenly, emboldened by whiskey and whatever else she's partaken in before Jata came to the bar. "I just mean with them knocking into things." Reaching out, she lets her fingers gently dance along one of the appendages.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
A hum of a laugh is in agreement to the idea of not upsetting Frey, and the smile that lingers when she speaks her mock disbelief is one of amusement that reflects in his eyes. Their knees knock but Sunjata remains where he is, facing her easily as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey again. “Should be manageable.” He agrees, filtering it away for a tomorrow problem. Because right now she’s smiling at him all bright and perfectly, and he knows it’s his cue to fill both their glasses again.
So he does, but doesn’t get a chance to set the bottle down when she asks her emboldened question, giving him a brief pause. “What?” He asks for a moment before realizing what she meant, added to it with the hand that traces the wing and he visibly shivers, his skin flushing red as he sets the bottle down a little harder than he intends to. “Uh, no. The outsides of them are fine, just the inside is sensitive.” As evidenced by the way he’d reacted, attempting to cover it up with the clearing of his throat, his gaze quickly drifting from her to his glass that he picks up.
“Though I did lose some feeling in that one when my father broke it.” He adds, taking a sip from the whiskey before nodding to the slouched wing with the pale scar running along the joint.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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 should be manageable, and Isla's sunny smile remains in place even as she clinks her empty glass against Sunjata's in preparation for it to be refilled. And only when he sets the bottle down hard enough to topple it - Isla reaches out to steady it automatically, but is no longer nearly as dexterous and ends up just kind of patting the top of it instead - does she realise her faux pas.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Withdrawing the hand that had been about to trace the silver-white strike of a scar (it acts without her permission, she swears), Isla instead clasps both around her glass. "I swear I wasn't this touchy before," she adds with a chuckle. The mention of the break and the reason behind it, though, has her glancing back at the appendage with a soft frown.
"That's terrible," she murmurs. "Is there anything I can do? As - you know - as a doctor or whatever."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights lost in sleepless lullabies
The patting of the glass should be enough to bring a laugh from him, but the most it does is a twitch of the scarred side of his lips. It’s one that fades with her apology, his head immediately shaking hard enough that the blue dangling feathered earrings Nate had given him, dance above the muscle of his shoulders. “Don’t be.” A brief pause before his lips part to continue, still flushed.
“You didn’t use to be. It’s not a bad thing though. The sensitivity doesn’t hurt, it just…” He trails off, huffing a sound and snorts, shaking his head. He lifts his glass to his lips to take a sip as if to drown out the answer of ‘sparks other things’. “Not a lot of people touch me these days, it was a surprise.” It doesn’t mean to come out as sad as it does, but he covers it with a small crooked smile.
“Nate fixed it up. I can fly with it and everything now. It just hurts when it’s cold, but now that it’s warming up I sort of enjoy having them out.” He supposes it helps with the allure and the ego of being the head of the House of Midnight.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts, my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
Echoing Sunjata in taking a sip of her drink - and it would be wise for it to be her last drink, given her relatively petite frame and low tolerance - Isla furrows her brow as she listens. "That's sad," she says softly, reaching out with one hand to rest it over the top of Sunjata's, offering him a smile in response to his own. "Well, if I ever get too touchy, just peel me off or throw me in a timeout," she says. "Hopefully after a little while things will settle."
Whether she wants them to is another matter entirely, and one that can absolutely take a conversational backseat for now. "He was a great doctor," she remarks of Nate, completely unsurprised to hear that he'd managed to fix up the wing properly. "And I suppose if I had them I'd wear them out all the time too." She remembers having them, briefly, but they were the wings of a manticore, huge and feathered and powerful.
But enough about that.
"Well, just be careful going through doorways and bumping into people," she says, waggling the finger of her free hand at him. "I don't think I'll be fit to practice medicine until tomorrow morning, so you take care of yourself."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
