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!
I know there are angels singing somewhere I hope they sing for us
The Fountain is far busier than the hot springs in Halo, which paints a slight scowl on his handsome face. There is no repose or relaxation to be found here, only the hustle and bustle of citizens with jugs and cups who brush past him with pinched faces that turn away in light of his furrowed brows and broad shoulders.
Squeezing through to the wide rim of the fountain, he sits to secure his spot from any other vultures - and finds himself distracted by golden hair and carmine marks on fair skin. “That’s one large dog you pissed off,” he comments idly, leaning back on his hands and dipping one into the water behind him to partake in the region’s shining jewel. Given his family’s wolf obsession, the marks are unmistakeable. It’s useless to ask if she’s okay when she’s already midway through healing herself, so instead Luka raises a dark brow and slants a slight smirk her way. “Not the type for scars that tell a story?”
For our bruised mouths are an act of resistance and our singing hearts, together, make a beautiful prayer
It's true; as far as healing waters go, Torchline's is pretty shit. They were the first to come up with the idea though, so bonus points for that. Maybe. On second thought, Flora would much rather be soaking away her worries in Halo's hotsprings.
Regardless of whether it was the done thing, Flora had decided against just dipping her arm into the fountain and was bathing in it instead. (She had some razor burn that could take with some smoothing over as well). So initially when she felt eyes upon her, the Doubletake was fully prepared to start talking her way out of being evicted from the healing waters, only to find that the eyes belonged to a man she'd not seen before. Crinkling her nose and wadding a touch closer—if he had the power to tell her to leave he'd be known to her—Flora glances down at her arm and sighs theatrically.
"You have no idea." She agrees of having pissed off a dog, before playfully narrowing her eyes. "Not all stories are worth telling." Raising an eyebrow in subtle challenge, the mischievous smile on the Doubletake's lips falters as the bite begins to sting anew. "Stupid fountain. I've been in here long enough for my fingers to get wrinkly, and it still hurts."
I know there are angels singing somewhere I hope they sing for us
If anyone is meant to be telling her off for bathing, Luka wouldn’t know the first thing about in. In fact, he kicks off his shoes and turns to stick his legs into the water; all the better to prop his elbows on his thighs and watch her wade over to him.
Halovians are usually as blunt as Luka is, so the catlike subversion she displays is intriguing. “Incapable of spinning it into something worthy of a tale?” It would be a snipe if it weren’t for the cock of his brows, the slight twitch of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “Maybe it’s because Safrin’s gone?” For an Accepted, he doesn’t know much about the magic behind regional benefits, but it’s clear from the gigantic star-themed building behind him that Vi’s herald had a hand in the fountain. Maybe her absence weakens it?
Extending a damp hand, he beckons her forward, certain but not cocksure. “Come here. Let me see.” But he’s still a guy, and a forward one at that, so he smiles and adds, “I can kiss it better even if I can’t fix it.”
For our bruised mouths are an act of resistance and our singing hearts, together, make a beautiful prayer
Flora's smile is catlike as she peers up at Luka, her eyes narrowing slightly beneath darkly-painted lashes. Where bluntness might have been second nature to the Halovian, flirtation was just as instinctive to Flora. Nevermind the chaos and drama in her life, the festering wound on her arm and heart; the Doubletake was always up for a bit of banter. "Of course I could. But why waste time making up stories when I have plenty of real ones to tell?" She wonders coyly before glancing down at her arm again and shrugging slightly. "It really was just a big weird fyrhund, and we killed it quite quickly. The end."
As for Safrin's absence being the reason her wound wasn't healing, that...was actually a really good point. "You might be onto something with that." Grinning up at Luka, she places her hand in his making sure to slide her fingertips along his before resting her palm atop his. "Go on then, do your worst."
I know there are angels singing somewhere I hope they sing for us
Luka has always been rather blase about sex - it's a fact of life, and there's no sense in getting all flustered about it - so her flirtations, while minimal, still inspire a coy curve to one side of his smile. "I see why you need no help concocting stories if that's one you consider worthy of brushing aside," he praises, because she seems the type to enjoy that.
Her hands are wet from the fountain and as pruney as she had bemoaned, but that doesn't stop Luka from holding it steady with a firm, calloused grip. Turning her arm slightly back and forth and making humming, considering noises. "Mhm. I see." Turning her arm so her hand is palm up, he nods decisively. "I think three kisses will suffice," he informs her gravely, bending over her hand and kissing first her fingertips, then the sensitive softness of her wrist, and finally just below the bite wounds. Pulling away just enough to look up at her without releasing her, one dark brow rises. "What's the prognosis now?"
For our bruised mouths are an act of resistance and our singing hearts, together, make a beautiful prayer
Indeed, Flora blooms like a violet starved of water; brightening and rising toward the words, she smiles coy and catlike up into Luka's earthen eyes. Watching him intently as he looked over her wound, pausing in all of the appropriately cinematic places as if this were some well-scripted medical drama, Flora does her best to hold her breath and look as though this stranger held her life in his hands.
"Three?" She laments, nearly raising her other hand from the water to press it to her brow. She doesn't though, if only to keep her mascara from running. "Are you sure it isn't four?" Breathing in softly in earnest now as his lips press against her wrinkled fingertips and move toward her wrist, Flora finds thoughts of Koa are blissfully far away while in the presence of this roguishly handsome and cavalier stranger.
"Well...I'd hate to tell you how to do your job, but...I do still think four is needed." She says with an apologetic smile.
I know there are angels singing somewhere I hope they sing for us
Her petulance is just sweet enough to slide, though Luka’s breath washes over her damp skin as he chuckles. “Who is the doctor here?” The answer is neither of them, and she should probably be seeing an actual doctor, but then she wouldn’t get any kisses at all.
Intrigued by her boldness, Luka grins and concedes by standing as he moves further up her arm; a lingering kiss to the inside crook of her elbow, another to her bicep, and two more that crest up along the curve of her shoulder where he pauses. Her ear is close enough now that he can murmur for her attention alone, heedless of those coming and going to the fountain. “And now?” He certainly hadn’t expected this to be the defining moment of his visit to Torchline, but what young man is stupid enough to turn down a beautiful woman asking for kisses? “If you need more, perhaps my kisses are not strong enough.”
For our bruised mouths are an act of resistance and our singing hearts, together, make a beautiful prayer
Shivering despite the heat that this stranger's touch has ignited just under her skin, it's with slightly parted lips that she leans ever so slightly into him as his mouth nears her ear. Standing weightlessly on her toes, the Doubletake shrugs one shoulder ever so slightly as her eyelashes flutter. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that..." Flora whispers, near enough now that the other Torchers who are enjoying the fountain have all but faded from her mind.
Just as she's about to suggest where else he might place his lips in order to increase their efficacy, her name is bleated (or so it sounds to Flora's ears) across the sands with growing urgency.
"What now?" She wonders, huffing and letting herself sink back down as she turns and glances around. Recognizing almost immediately the messenger Hadama liked to use, the girl huffed as she bit at the inside of her cheek.
"Rain check?" Leaning up and pressing a kiss against the corner of Luca's mouth, Flora flashed him a quick wink before turning the ring on one finger and disappearing from sight.
