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
He lays back more fully when she straddles him, looking up at her with all the amusement and playfulness in the world. Her hand lowers to trail along the multicolored feathers and Sunjata exhales a soft sigh of a purr, like a cat being pet.
He takes the moment to sit up a little, up onto a single elbow to invade her space a bit more, his hand still on her thigh in a possessive manner, wings fanning and flaring out, blocking out half of the light from the other side of the room. “Probably so. But far less intimidating.” He rumbles, flashing her a charming grin. “And I’d rather be intimidating. How else am I supposed to ward off the patrons with bad intentions?” He cocks his head as he looks up at her, earrings dangling over his shoulder, shirt astray from her careful stroking.
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 I'm sure you'd think of a way," Isla tells him in mock seriousness, shifting with him as he sits up a little, closing the distance between them little by little. "Look at that guy downstairs earlier. Pretty sure you'd have been able to frighten him off without any wings at all." And she can't help that she's grinning, remembering well the effectiveness of a well placed bottle of liquor and presence alone.
Like a magpie drawn to all things shiny, Isla's touch drifts away from tri-coloured feathers and back up along Sunjata's shoulders, teasing at the earring she finds, tracing the flickering pulse at his throat, plucking at the buttons of his shirt as if daring them to loosen. "Between you and me, intimidating isn't the word I'd use to describe you 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
“Somebody has a lot of faith in me.” He murmurs, pushing himself up a fraction more as they drift closer together, lids fluttering as she toys with the earring and then the buttons of his shirt. “I think it’s more likely my reputation.” He trails off, picking up the thread as he lets his hand continue to drift along her warm, silky skin.
“I’m supposed to be the big bad wolf, remember?” His gaze focuses sharply on her, his scarred brow rising as if in question. “You’ve seen a lot more of me than others. What would you describe?” She, like Nate, had seen him in his worst moments. And he had seen hers as well. He rolls a shoulder slightly, making it easier for those buttons she toys with to open should she tug hard enough, as if daring 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.
"You have never given me a reason not to have a lot of faith in you," Isla points out, and that goes for long before the House of Midnight or even the Refuge. Sunjata had been an ally of the Ascended and then a friend and then leader of the Grounds for a time before the war. "Granted, you can't help a reputation," she agrees, conceding that point with a flash of teeth.
The big bad wolf comment only causes her smile to grow, and even as one of her hands does, indeed, dare to tug at the buttons hard enough to cause them to either open or pop off completely, the other reaches out to cup his jaw, Isla's thumb brushing across a scarred cheek. "Oh, no," she chastises him playfully. "You aren't ready to hear that yet, believe me. One day I'll tell you."
For now, though, she draws him close enough that their lips might meet in a kiss that feels like a sigh of relief in the midst of all their teasing.
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 supposes its fair. He’s always been an ally to the Ascended, always been that link between old and new, even when he followed Safrin and it had torn his heart in two, when his love and fear of losing Nate had brought him a bargain he was stupid to take. But here he is. Still alive somehow despite it all. “Yeah.” He starts to deflate somewhat, until her hand is cupping his jaw and his shirt starts to unbutton.
He raises that scarred eyebrow at her again as she denies answering him, and while he tries to get her to elaborate, he fails as she leans in to break the distance, the distraction in her lips that has his hand at her thigh tightening slightly, as if to hold onto her in case she disappeared. He presses back into the kiss, shifting to sit up more fully with her in his lap, wings still flexed and out, tips of his feathers dragging against the bed. His other hand finds her other thigh, pulling away from the kiss slightly. “Not even an inkling?” He asks, breathy and slightly hoarse, the taste of peaches on his tongue.
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.
Humming against Sunjata's lips at the feel of a grip that suddenly seems possessive, Isla can't help but smile, gasping an eager snatch of breath in the fraction of space between them as he shifts his position. Her fingers softly trace the spiderweb of lightning scars on his bare chest, her other hand slipping up and through his salt and pepper hair. "Not even an inkling," she says through a soft laugh that Sunjata will be able to feel against his lips.
"But I would add impatient to the description, come to think of it." Raising her eyebrows right back at him, the Remedy is under no illusion that she's teasing Frey's demigod of all people. But Frey's demigod also happens to be Sunjata Wrenzaok; toss in the fact that she's still pretty much a slave to her impulses, and here they fucking are. Or here they are, fucking. Yeah, that's probably more accurate.
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
“Hm.” Sunjata says abruptly short, as if frustrated by it. He isnt, but he can play the fool a little while longer as her hands trace the scars on his chest. “Impatient in some aspects, I’ll allow it.” As if he had a choice in being able to choose how people described him. If he had, his life may have been easier.
His hands slip from her thighs, trailing up her body to her shoulders, pushing with her with surprising ease as if she were lighter than a feather, hands trailing down her arms as he moves them up and away from his chest, pushing her back to where she can lay back against the bed and the pillows with him still between her legs, and he flashes her a playful smirk as he starts to pin her. “You still want to keep it a secret?” He asks in that deep, throaty, accented purr.
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.
"How gracious of you," Isla drawls, more than happy to play along with this charade. Except it isn't really a charade, given Sunjata's considerable (lookin' at you, 46) strength and Isla's small frame. To say that he moves her easily is almost giving it too much credit, not that you would know to look at them, and she sinks into the blankets and pillows as if he's just set her down on a cloud.
There's something wild and fey in her eyes at the weight of his body starting to pin her own - part of her wants to fight and shove against it, but much more of her absolutely loves the feeling. "I think," she whispers back at him, head tilting back a fraction as if to defiantly bare her throat, "I might just take it to my grave." So how about that?
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 moves her easily and with a huff of a laugh in response to her drawl. He starts to pin her, waiting for her answer as his body weight starts to press in on her, barely able to keep the smirk and playfulness from reflecting on his face. “Oh that won’t do.” He drawls back to her, shifting so that one hand keeps both of hers pinned above her head, nestled in just below the headboard.
She bares her throat to him and there’s something primal in the way Sunjata hums thoughtfully, regarding her with that same intensity. He dives in, then, lips trailing along her neck, dragging his teeth shortly after, nipping lightly just below her ear. “You’re leabing me no choice. I suppose I’ll have to pull it out of you.” He breathes the whisper in her ear, the scruff of his beard brushing along her earlobe.
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 won't do, and Isla wishes she could just agree with him, but the truth is that she really, really doesn't want to. Trying (and failing) to keep the smile from her lips, she puts up a cursory fight as he tries to pin her arms over her head, but really, it's just for show. They both know she's exactly where she wants to be, and if there's any doubt, the way her legs tighten around his waist ought to erase it.
Hissing in a breath to feel his lips and teeth graze along her throat, Sunjata will find himself painting new marks over old, the necklace of bruises still vivid without a cascade of fair hair to cover them up. "Sorry for making this so hard," she says, and while it would be great to be able to play along, all sultry and teasing, Isla knows exactly what she's just said, and the smile in her voice is all too audible.
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 is entirely for show, because while one hand is busy keeping her pinned in a circlet of his own making around her wrists, his free hand trails along her side, the outside of her thighs that tighten around his waist with a soft huff of a hot breath against her neck as he placed new marks over old, making more of those very noticeable, vivid claims — even if he couldn’t announce it more than simply telling onlookers that she’s not on the menu.
His menu, perhaps.
Of course, her words breeze through him and he laughs, a dark velveteen purr against her neck as he rises back toward her face again, fingers tugging along her sun dress to hitch it up further, as if revealing the truth to her words when he presses his hips against her, the pressure behind the cage of his pants visible. Teasing her by keeping himself wrapped up, but also driving himself slowly insane for the relief. “You’re not sorry.” He flashes her a wicked, knowing smirk.
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 itch of frustration starts out as a slow, faint hum behind her teeth and in her fingertips, Isla drawing in a long breath and tilting her head to bare more of her throat to Sunjata, as if that might make up for the fact that she can't let her greedy hands get her fill of him. It absolutely doesn't, something made abundantly clear as he draws her dress up further and rocks his hips against her, and the breath she hasn't realised she's been holding tumbles out in a soft moan.
"I'm not," she agrees, peering up at him through hooded blue eyes, a matching smile curling at her lips. "Not yet, anyway." Maybe he can change that, or maybe he'll tie her up here for real and saunter downstairs to the bar. (She doubts it, but if it did happen, gods help Sunjata the next time he came back up to the loft). Squeezing her legs around his waist, Isla does her best to grind against him, intent on making a menace of herself even with her hands pinned.
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’s extra intent on her when her moan slips from her lips, drawing that focus so easily. His wings drift, placing on either side of him in the bed for an added attempt at balancing when a thought occurs to him. “Atta girl.” He drawls, smirking as he releases her pinned wrists, only to spread them apart as she tries terribly to distract him, a soft huff slipping from him in her attempts.
He replaces both of his hands with the edges of his wings, the feathers pressing in against her wrists to keep them pinned apart and keep his hands free. Which helps to shift her dress up further, leaning down as if he might be aiming for a kiss to her lips when he immediately dives for the hollow of her throat, nipping a mark front and center.
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.
His remark would absolutely have earned some snark if Isla hadn't been so tongue tied, and by the time she recovers enough to speak, Sunjata is already lowering himself down for what she assumes is a kiss. The joke is on her, though, because it's with a sharp inhale and a fierce smile that she squirms in his grip, his lips and teeth leaving their signature against the hollow of her throat. "Fuck." She hisses the curse out on a warm breath, struggling in earnest this time as it looks as though he might be releasing her wrists.
Again, though, the Remedy is left surprised and wanting, though mingled in with the mounting frustration on her face is the undeniable sense that she's impressed with Sunjata's creativity. And so, pinned by feathers, she arches her back in an attempt to help him hitch her dress up further, a movement that has her rocking against him in all the right places.
"Gods, have me," she finds herself whispering, as if those words alone might make his clothes disappear.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
