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!
06-27-2023, 05:55 PM (This post was last modified: 06-27-2023, 06:27 PM by Flora.)
flora
In preparation for this stage of her quest, Flora had done some shopping. She wasn't planning on arriving at Frey's shrine with just the usual assortment of peaches but instead had bought nearly every sexually suggestive fruit or vegetable she could think of. Some she planned on arranging into explicit shapes, and some she was going to carve that they might resemble certain sexual bits. Flora had also bought a halter top of lace that she was planning on only wearing half the time as well. For nature Frey the Doubletake had bothered her brother for some soil and a water can as well as some seeds.
Though Longheat was coming to an end that didn't make the day any less of a scorcher, but Flora didn't think that the god would mind a little sweat on her skin. Having left her hair down that it might tangle in the sea breeze as if she were some heroin on one of Mateo's paperback romance books, Flora kneels in front of the shrine and begins to set things up: an eggplant with two different-sized kiwis at its base, a peach with the pit removed with a cucumber pressed against it, bunches of cherries, two nectarines pressed together, and a few green beans in a clump.
Reaching up to the base of her neck, Flora begins to unknot the strings holding her haltertop in place.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
It's Koa's second day of his extended stay in Torchline, and already he's feeling like his chest is lighter, the weight of heartache (and the respiratory stress of living at high elevation) eased by cheerful seaside air. It's also hot, which aggravates Pipsqueak to no end and is new and somewhat unpleasantly stick for Koa, but honestly? Could be worse. He's been delighting in almost everything: the way the water curls on his bare calves, the refreshing taste of a cold coconut, the sensation of sand beneath his toes.
Not that there's much sand to be found on the Rainbow Road, and Koa, naive outsider that he is, has already cut his feet on the lava rock more than once due to being thoroughly unprepared.
And then there's Flora. He'd expected to see her during his time in Torchline, would have (eventually) even sought her out, but to find her herehere? Right now? Carefully... arranging... fruit...? Koa knows he ought to leave her to whatever this art project is, but he's deeply curious now, and also kinda lonely.
So he continues walking up behind her, figuring the splashing of his feet is enough to alert her he's there. He tilts his head to the side curiously, as he watches though his eyebrows rise from beneath his shades when she starts to maybe remove her shirt. "You do know you're in public, right?" Koa is one to talk: his short-sleeved shirt is mostly unbuttoned, and his shark-print bottoms are doing their very damndest to live up to the word short. Still, it seems terribly rude to let her strip in front of him. Unless she wants to, in which case, he certainly shan't complain.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
Flora would know Koa's stupidly attractive voice anywhere, and though her fingers hadn't necessarily stopped their unravelling of the knot holding her top on, her shoulders had certainly stiffened in response. "You do know this a shrine, right?' The girl calls back, twisting to glare at him over one perfectly tanned shoulder. Should that give him an eyeful of sideboob, so be it.
Tilting her head to indicate the arrangement of fruit and vegetables around her - and to a lesser extent, the soil and seeds as well - Flora widens her eyes accusingly before fitting a sarcastic smile onto her painted lips. "Or are you here for Frey too? Gasp!" Flora holds the ties of her top in one hand so as to properly twist around. "Is it genital warts again? I've heard that's something you've been really struggling with."
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
"I didn't actually," he is quick to reply as mildly as he can, though his sense of decorum does not extend to failing to notice the display of her breast. Flora certainly hasn't become less attractive over time, and Koa's body and mind haven't become less responsive to the display of her delicate curves. Luckily his sunglasses hide his wandering eyes well enough, or he might be in for an eyeful of overripe fruit in addition to skin.
He raises his hands defensively at her sarcastic accusations, more wounded by the barb than he would have been were his heart and self-esteem not already raw. "Good to see you too," he mutters, his usual bright wit thoroughly and pitifully dimmed.
Hating the sound of his own voice in his ears, the Dragoon does his best to rally a little, shoving his hands into his pockets and forcing on a smile. "I take it you're not here for warts, since Mateo has a cream which clears them up, so... fruit salad with Frey?" Koa peers over her shoulder at the selection of suggestive produce, an eyebrow curiously raised.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
"Mmmk, well it is." Flora confirms haughtily, chin raised in defiance as well as to emphasize the curve of her jawline. She'd been doing those annoying chin-raise-kissing-motion exercises, though she couldn't quite say whether they'd had any impact or not.
Narrowing her eyes slightly, she regards the dragoon with, in her opinion, fairly justified skepticism. "What's that supposed to mean?" She wonders, though it was abundantly clear that the soldier was doing his best to try and put everything behind them. Alas, Koa's escape from her bedroom had come at a particularly bad time, cementing it in Flora's mind as a fairly core memory of rejection.
"Ewwwwuh." Unable to help it, Flora does grin a little at that, if only because Mateo would have such a cream. "Knowing him it probably smells like lavender or something." She offers, before quickly clearing her throat feeling betrayed by the smile he'd forced out of her. 'If you must know, it's for a quest." With a hand still holding the strings of her top against her neck, Flora huffs under her breath, debating whether or not to just take her top off entirely. It wasn't anything Koa hadn't already seen, anyway.
"It's for both aspects of Frey, so I have a bunch of suggestive fruits and vegetables, and then some seeds and water and stuff." She explains, shifting her hips on her heels.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
He bristles at the acid in her tone, making a conscious effort to not react besides the flash of a scowl, the way his shoulders tense. "Just what I said," he answers tersely, failing to keep all the frustration out of his voice because why can't she just let it go?
Except now that Koa has felt the sting of rejection himself he has more empathy for what Flora may be going through, and that makes it complicated, and just straight anger is easier, damnit.
The fact that he's managed to make her smile is a much-needed win, Koa's grin widening hopefully in response to the brief warmth. Like a sunflower he seeks her out, eager to feel more of those vibrant rays against his skin. "Coconut, actually. Something about the oil helping skin regrow. Or maybe he was drinking pina coladas when he made it, who knows." He shrugs.
The suggestive fruits earns an eyebrow raise, Koa inching around Flora to reach for a particularly dimpled peach. "Great selection you've wrangled up," he says, impressed. A banana is taken into his other hand, the pair posed pointedly, shaft sliding idly against smooth contours. "Though based on what I've heard of Frey, it seems they might prefer things to be more... demonstrative?"
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
Snorting under her breath, Flora rolls her eyes affectionately if only because when it came to Mateo, happenstance and brilliance applied in equal measure to the botanist. "Well, at least coconut tastes good. You should have seen the mud mixtures he'd make when we were kids." Actually, Koa probably had come to think of it.
With an arm still raised to keep her top from sliding down, Flora watches Koa slink around her, finding something utterly satisfying in the way he just caressed the boundary of her personal bubble. Raising an eyebrow, Flora looks from the singular peach toward the dragoon's crotch, and then back again with a smirk. "I'm not sure how much being anatomically correct matters, but..." She grins, before tossing her head back with a theatrical huff.
"I mean, that's what I was going to do. Hence the-" With the hand not holding the ties of her top, Flora gestures to her state of half-undress.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
"I've experienced a few," Koa replies with a playful wince, remembering some of the particularly pungent bruise salves Mateo had attempted to slather him with. He's relieved they seem to have found safe ground, their respective relationships with the Taliesin scion a critical bridge over sordid history.
The aroma of her perfume is sweet and alluring, mixing with ambient salt and obligate sweat to create a heady summer mix. Koa gets a whiff of it as he skims around her, heat rising unbidden in his cheeks and belly. And when those piercing eyes drift from his crotch to the fruit he wields, well. Affecting a thoughtful expression, he raises the banana for further inspection. "You're right. This is definitely too small to be an accurate representation." Which, honestly? Not a lie.
"Ah, well. Don't let me stop you." Koa raises up his hands, each one still holding a suggestive fruit. "Would you like some privacy? Or someone to stand guard? Wouldn't want you to be caught in a compromising situation- unless you're looking for an audience, of course."
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
Though Flora absolutely wants to have something witty and biting to say in response, she finds that her cheeks have grown far too round and her lips have twisted with too much-restrained amusement for her to get the words out. 'You're the worst.' She manages after a moment, affectionately rolling her eyes and hating Koa all the more for how easily he could make her laugh. He wasn't wrong about the fruit comparison either, not that she was going to give him that victory though, but the flush in her own cheeks acknowledged his point clearly enough.
"An audience, huh?" Flora purrs, and if the way she twists toward him slightly and tugs up on the strings of her top makes her breasts look absolutely gravity-defying and just as succulent as the peach in Koa's hand, surely it's an accident. "I don't remember you being particularly good at staying hands off." She murmurs suggestively, all the while maintaining an expression of complete and docile innocence.
Of course, if Frey wanted a demonstrative bit of worship, the pair were well on their way to providing it based on the tableau they were creating alone: Flora, nearly topless on her knees, gazing up at Koa whose strong hands were wrapped around the peach and banana in a way that would make anyone imagine how those fingers would feel around their own corresponding anatomy, and with enough heat and sweat to make them both glisten in the light.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
"I live to serve." Koa's answering murmur is husky and low, his voice catching in the folds of his tightening throat. It's not the only thing that's tightened: there's an appreciable tent rising at his crotch, the thin material of the boy's board shorts doing nothing to hide his growing arousal.
And who could blame the boy his eagerness, with a dish like Flora arrayed at his feet? She may be employing some obvious tricks, but fuck If they aren't working. His grip on the peach tightens as he gazes down upon her, eyes slipping from rosy lips to a gloriously tanned bosom and back with an artist's slow appreciation. His thumb rubs over the soft skin of the peach; he, like her, is imagining how it would feel to caress her corresponding anatomy instead.
Well. In for a penny and all that. "Looks like you might need a hand after all - may I?" Again he shifts behind her, this time well within the realms of her personal space. Only now he kneels down as well, copper eyes raking over the taper of her waist, the sharp edges of her scapula, up to the curve of her neck. His calloused hands are surprisingly gentle as they flit up to her shoulder, fingertips grazing purposefully against her as he pushes the mane of long blonde hair away from sticky skin and grasps the strings of her top. This close and her aroma is positively heady, a delicious and intoxicating thing he desperately wants to taste; he leans in close, not quite enough to touch but almost, almost, almost.
"What do you want, Flora?" The words are whispered into her ear, his nose a breath away from the auricle, his lips desperate for her neck. His hands still linger over her bindings, knot untied, unraveled, unwound, ready as he is to fall away. "Because you know I want you."
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
Flora's aqua eyes are utterly captivated by the soldier's grip on the peach, her eyes willing the pads of his fingers to brush over the fuzz with just enough pressure to cause droplets of golden juice to bloom from the parted skin. It's a metaphor that the girl is willing to life with every fibre of her being, and that she knows intimately, as it were, just how exacting Koa's fingers could be, her imagination is able to easily replace the peach with the swell of her thigh or breast with enough detail to have her breath catching in her throat and heat blooming between her legs.
Lips parting but unable to do more than exhale stiffly as the soldier moves behind her, Flora both straightens, tenses, and melts, in all the ways she thinks (hopes) he'll find the most attractive; her shoulders soften, her obliques tighten, and her rib cage rises. Shivering with a physical eagerness that belies the affectation of calm that she's trying very hard to maintain, goosebumps erupt in the wake of Koa's fingers as he relieves the strings from the Doubletake's hand. Letting her eyes fall closed, the words send a current of electricity down her spine, and suddenly it feels as though each and every cell of her body is reaching out for Koa, as if the baby-fine hairs on her body might suddenly form fingers with which to drag him closer by.
Too breathless by the nearness of him to properly sass the soldier the way she otherwise might, Flora lets her fingertips trickle with feather-soft lightness up the arm holding the strings of her top, rising only so that she could plunge them with sudden pressure against his scalp. At the same time, her body stretches upward slightly if only to emphasize the lean length of her torso as she arches and leans back against him, her cheek raised and pressed against his lips.
There's no window for him to rush out of this time, and maybe if she's good enough, if she's clever enough, he'll stay this time.
"Touch me." The words are meant to be a sultry command, but there's no denying the pleading edge to her voice as she reaches for his other hand to guide it against her breast that she might finally experience what the peach had.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
Her fingers skip like smooth stones over his skin, leaving behind ripples of warmth that spread through his body to settle in his groin, embers of desire fanning calm coals into fire-bright flame. He aches for her, yearns for her, his left hand following the curve of her neck, the pad of his thumb carving a path down the razor's edge of her jawbone, ever closer to her lips. Each breath they share feels like an eternity of bright anticipation---
---but it is nothing compared to the eruption of lust when at last, they collide.
Koa does not need the excess prompting. As soon as she arches up against her the dragoon crashes down, lips meeting cheek in fervent kisses, his desire clear against her back. The strings of her shirt are swiftly abandoned; now Koa's only goal is to tug the damn thing off, to wrap his arm around her waist and oblidge her, to cup that promised, perfect breast in clever, calloused hands.
"Flora." His voice is a growl against her neck, groaned into the secret space behind her ear. He pulls her to him, sitting back to better take her weight into his lap. One thumb grazes coral lips; the other strokes over her nipple, a little lingering, a little rough.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
It takes no effort at all for the halter to be stripped away; Flora had purchased it for precisely that reason after all, and as the lace tumbled into the grass it was promptly forgotten. That anyone could come wandering up this pathway only had the Doubletake feeling more aroused, and not just because of the taboo nature of it all. Being sexually performative was one of the side effects of her daddy issues, and combined with the fact that Koa had already left her once had the Doubletake nearly quivering in his arms, keen to reprise her role and best her last performance.
A moan leaves Flora's lips on the heel of a swift exhale as she feels Koa properly; the press of his mostly-unbuttoned shirt against her spine, the contrast between a shaven cheek and the softness of his lips, the pressure of his erection against her back, and gods the feeling of his fingers around her nipple. Electricity seemed to mirror the movement of his touch, repeating the pattern against her inner thigh in a way that had her feeling vaguely frantic in her need to have more of it.
Parting her lips, Flora's tongue draws lazy circles around the pad of Koa's thumb as she arches herself back against him so that there might not be any confusion about what it was she wanted him thinking about. To that end, given that that hand she'd guided to her breast needed no further instruction, she let it slide down between them so that her own fingers might begin a similar task oof unbuttoning his pants.
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
He presses his thumb against her lip, his moan vibrating against her neck as he imagines that mouth wrapped round his cock. He presses into her, the friction of their bodies sending sparks of electric current through his thighs, up his rib cage and into arms that tighten around her supple form. He delights in the way her breast fits perfectly into his hand, in the smooth skin and the pert nipple and the taste of her sweat, and he tries to communicate that delight with his mouth and his fingers, the flush of his heart against her bare back and the gentle chuckle as her delicate hand works its way down to the band of his shorts - which will be rather difficult to permeate, given her position atop him.
If there's one thing Koa could have one thing in this moment it would be another hand; alas, sacrifices must be made, though it is still with reluctance that the young Dragoon extracts his thumb from Flora's mouth. Down and down his fingers drop, tracing over a slender stomach and to the curve her hips, until he too is seeking a waistband and slipping down below. He lets the pad of his fingers rest, ghost-like, on her underwear; her moist core a tantalizing treat beneath, just out of his grasp.
"I'm going to make you cum," Koa informs her between hot kisses on her shoulder, letting his thumb brush ever so gently over her covered clit. "But you have to want it. Show me you want it, Flora."
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
