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
It might be a sad fact, but the truth of it remains – and as Isla openly admits it’s a sad thing, only then does he somewhat draw a fraction more reserved, flashing her a soft smile as her hand covers his, nodding. “I don’t mind.” He offers to try and soothe any worries she might have. It’s simply up to him to get used to it again. Hands that are warm specifically and not essentially room temperature or cold.
But she continues on about Nate, and Sunjata certainly hasn’t had enough liquor for this, and he nods quietly as he finishes off the rest of his drink only to pour another in, keeping it on his side to keep from Isla receiving more if only to keep her from getting sick all over the room upstairs. “Yeah, he was.” He agrees softly, wings shuffling awkwardly as he swallows down around the burn and the sudden slight lump in his throat, searching for any kind of distraction to keep from his mood shifting back to where it had spent months at.
“They tuck in tight. And with that show from that guy earlier, I doubt anyone wants to get in close to me anyway.” He pauses, puffing out a laugh that doesn’t quite reach everywhere else on him. He does, however, manage to glance at her sidelong with that same crooked smile as before, yet somehow it’s lost a glint of its luster. “Guess you’re stuck with me for the night.” Not like it was different from any other night, but still.
Now he was simply just brooding.
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.
Now these are tells that Isla does recognise (and that says a lot about the sort of moods they'd been in for the vast majority of their time together), so as Sunjata slips his brooding around himself like a cloak, she's there to try and ease it off again. "I don't mind getting in close to you," she reminds him with a warm squeeze of his hand. "And the joke is on you, because you're the one stuck with me."
Finishing her refill - she doesn't take offence to being effectively cut off, because they both know it's for the best - Isla rises to her feet, stepping between Sunjata's knees where he's seated on the barstool and looping her arms around him. "If you're done with your rounds, let's go raid the pantry? I want peaches."
And it's Sunjata's fault, because that's what he smells like tonight. (To her, anyway).
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
Her honesty is met with the raise of a scarred brow, the Flood remaining silent as Isla continues on, doing her best to pull him out of the dark shadows that surround his mind. There’s a soft snort, a sigh of defeat, and before he knows it she’s got her arms looped around him tucked in and his freehand moves to wrap around her middle. “Peaches?” He asks, full of clear confusion.
He obliges her, though, downing the rest of his glass and moves to stand, keeping an arm around her as support (as does the wing somewhat extended behind her), and he begins to make their path toward the pantry, wondering if they even had peaches yet. Even if they didn’t, he thinks he could go for some kind of crispy snack, suddenly missing chips with every ounce of his being. “Don’t get sick off of eating too many.” He teases.
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.
"Peaches," Isla repeats, her smile half pressed against his shirt. "And cream, if we have it." She steps back as he rises to his feet, tucked in against Sunjata's side and falling into step with him easily as they head towards the pantry. Shrouded by his wing, they move without bother through the House of Midnight, though Isla doesn't want to admit that it's proving the Flood right, that no one wants to get close to him.
"I only got sick one time," she hisses at him playfully. It had been their first night back, okay, and there had been a block of cheese and flavoured gins and a slab of chocolate and a LOT of ice cream, and yeah, it had been a mess. She's not sorry. "Maybe we could grab a bunch of different snacks and hide them away upstairs," she suggests, not because they have to hide anything ay all, but just because it would be fun.
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
“Now cream I think we do have.” Sunjata murmurs, slowly coming out of the clouds as they make their way back toward the pantry. Of course, he notices that he was correct in his assumptions of everyone giving them a wide berth, though Sunjata pays it little mind as she remains tucked in against his side and he helps her to the pantry.
The reminder of last time has his nose wrinkling preemptively. “Once was enough.” He mutters with a soft laugh, a roll of his eyes and a shake of his horned head. “I didn’t even know you had that much in you.” And it had been a nightmare to clean up, to the point Sunjata had decided to say fuck it and scrab the poor furniture stained with all of her bad decisions.
They make it to the pantry, at least, stepping in and Sunjata carefully releases the hold he has on her even if his wing remains out subconsciously just in case. “What would we even keep up there? Jerky? Fruits?” His head tilts toward her as he reaches up to grab a bundle of peaches.
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.
"Neither did I," Isla admits quietly, the wrinkle of her nose promising that there will not be a repeat performance of her first night home. Food and booze are amazing, don't get her wrong, but she'd much prefer not to decorate the room with it. Stepping into the pantry, she's a little freestyle on her feet as Sunjata lets her go, leaning into the cradle of his wing for a second, before she finds her balance.
Finding a pitcher of cream, it's an unintelligible noise of delight that leaves her lips to see him procure the peaches. "You're so tall," she sings, smiling up at him and grabbing an empty crate to start filling it with what Isla has clearly decided is a feast. "I didn't say anything about keeping anything up there," she adds. "Just throw in what you want and we'll eat it now."
So saying, she decides, perhaps wisely, to take out a few peaches, and decant some cream into a much more conservatively sized pitcher. But only because Sunjata is right a killjoy.
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
His wing is there to catch her easily, even as he reaches up to grab the peaches while she deals with the cream. He half expects her to spill it everywhere, but instead reaches down to set the bag of peaches down for her to decide how many she wanted. “I definitely thought you said keep.” He admits with a soft huff of a laugh, but nods and adds a bit of jerky in regardless.
“Peaches are Frey’s favorite, did you know that?” He asks her, picking one of the peaches out of the crate to inspect it in his hand before he sets it back in. “It isn't my favorite, but it’s up there.” A casual shrug that makes his wing lift up with it before resting in tight again, reaching for a corked bottle of slightly flavored water, if for nothing else but easy transportation.
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.
"Well maybe I did," Isla admits, having scooped herself to sit up on a counter next to the crate while Sunjata adds what he wants. "But I meant keep like... in our mouths. For tonight." Rolling a peach in her hands, she sinks her teeth into it and hums a response around his comment, raising her eyebrows. "Mm, no I didn't," she says, wiping at the juice that tries to run down her chin.
"I haven't decided on my favourite yet," she says, tilting her head at the peach. "I quite like cherries and peaches. I used to like grapes, but I'm not so sure any more..." Fully aware that she's rambling, Isla silences herself with another bite of the fruit. "What's yours?" she asks once her mouth isn't full, pulling apart some of the peach to dunk it in the cream.
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
“Ah,” He replies with a huff of a laugh. Of course, he’s distracted the second she takes the bite out of the peach, and watches as she immediately moves to wipe away the drippings of it before his attention tilts back to the crate. She starts to ramble and he’s totally content listening to her go on and on about it, until she shuts her mouth with another bite of the peach.
“Blackberry.” He offers out with surprising ease. “My mother used to make me a blackberry cobbler for my birthday every year.” One tradition that Nate had kept as soon as he’d found out. But Sunjata stifles his thoughts and the words that leave him, taking a bite of his own peach and taking a smidge less care when it comes to dripping down his chin.
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.
"Blackberries - that's a good one," Isla agrees with a raise of her eyebrows, reaching out to shove some crackers and a hunk of cheese into the crate as well, feeling reasonably content with their spoils and finishing off her peach. Discarding the pit, she hops down off the counter and reaches out to carefully swipe the juice from his chin (as carefully as a tipsy medic can, anyway).
"I don't think I've ever made any kind of cobbler, even before I was Ascended. That's must be a really sweet memory," she murmurs, smiling softly and stepping back to grab up the crate. "Shall we go up?" Because you know, feasting in the pantry is fun and all, but it does lead to questionable decisions for a new Ancient with poor impulse control.
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
“I certainly think so.” Sunjata agrees, wings fanning slightly as he flashes her a small smile, glancing down to the cheese she adds to the crate. And before he has a chance to clean the drippings of the peach from his chin, she’s quickly swiping it away. It’s less delicate, of course, but the implication is the same and he snorts at it, taking another bite more carefully this time.
It is a sweet memory, both literally and figuratively, and he finishes off his peach before lifting the crate, waiting for her to lead the way. “How much shit did you put into this Isla?” He asks, clearly warming up, whether or not it’s from the alcohol or her distractions are hard to say. “I’m not going to be able to help you up the stairs so I hope you’re ready.” Another soft tease, cocking a scarred eyebrow her way as he trails after 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.
"Only a bit," Isla protests with a girlish pout over her shoulder at him (it's somewhat ruined by the way she's trying to lick the peach juice from her fingers at the same time). "Besides, I saw you sneak that jerky in there - don't you act as though you aren't a co-conspirator here." Sneak being a stretch, of course, because he'd been pretty blatant when he'd put it into the crate.
"Oh I'm ready," she snarks at him with a fanged grin, "and if you happen to be the one to trip upstairs, you'll never hear the end of it." With a flick of a spaded tail at her heels, Isla pads upstairs on bare, silent feet, somehow knowing instinctively all of the spots to step where the boards don't creak.
And of course their trip up to the loft is accompanied by the orchestra of a brothel in full swing, Isla raising her eyebrows at Sunjata in exaggerated surprise at the sound of a particularly enthusiastic couple behind one door. But they make it, more or less without incident, and the Remedy flops gracelessly onto the bed on her belly, sinking into the comfort of the mattress and pillows.
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
“Oh, because one pack of jerky is heavier than the bundle of peaches you added?” He teases her back, snorting as they make their way to the stairs and he tucks his wings in tight, following up behind her in case she slips at least his body might help to keep her small frame from going down completely. In fact, he half braces for a trip that never comes.
He’s steady enough on his feet, though, and as they get to the upper floor and past that to the loft, he spies the look Isla gives him from the noise coming from the opposite side of a door they pass and he chuckles breathily – not wanting to interrupt anyone should they listen a little too closely – before they make it to the loft and she collapses onto the bed.
He moves to set the crate down on a table beside the bed, starting to pull out the peaches into their own basket. “Well, if nothing else, I’m glad people are enjoying this place. We can make it better, though.” He starts, plucking the jerky from the crate to sit on the edge of the bed and look over at her. “I have a quest from Frey to make it fancier.” There’s a small crooked smile that blooms on his face – excitement for the first time in a long while.
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.
"Oh, because you're so feeble that a bundle of peaches is enough to topple you?" Isla shoots back, quite enjoying their verbal sparring until there's a bed to faceplant into. Stretching, catlike, as Sunjata sorts their pilfered snacks into some sort of an order, she peeps up at him from the pillows, all hazy pebble blues and the elegant curve of amber gemstone.
"You do?" He can't quite see it yet, but now there's a fanged and feline smile to accompany her stretch, Isla finally rolling over enough to get an elbow beneath her to gaze up at him. "This place will end up as a haven for travellers," she remarks. "Well, this and the refuge, of course. But given the number of ships coming from Torchline, I'd not be surprised if the majority of the people coming through here want to take advantage of our establishment."
Grinning, Isla tilts her head up at Sunjata. "What's the quest?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
