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 did like the thought of sunrise,” he rumbled; though not disclosing why. If the glowing beacon matched her tresses as the water interplayed upon the surface, he wouldn’t say – eyes already narrowing to study and transfix again, almost forgetting to listen to the next suggestion as she moved to straddle him. There was another harsh intake of breath that nearly promised they wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon, an undulation along his abdomen to follow, and then the crooning hunger that betrayed everything. “Gives us time for other things.”
What hour was it now anyway? He couldn’t tell and hadn’t looked and something about all of that lack of structure piqued in the restlessness…and then he had to let it go. Being unrestrained, unbothered, was a whole other platitude of uncertainty, and he’d face that head on too. No soldiers to train or bark at. No missives to write. No threats to conquer. Instead, his fingers wove away from her hair and down her calf, roaming inconsequentially; before a grunt of agreement followed. “Fine,” though he made no maneuver to actually begin moving – machinations beginning a roughened start on simultaneous and ulterior directions.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
If she had any reason or inkling to question sunrise, it dissipates like smoke over water as the harshness of his inhale and the dark stare below her promise far more interesting things. The easy touch of his hand up her calf makes it almost impossible to think of food even with hunger gnawing at the edge of her belly threateningly. Why could magic not solve those sorts of human afflictions? She bemoans the need to eat when all she wants is to lean down and see how many more orgasms they can chase before their bodies give out.
"I shouldn't be able to want you more than human necessities like food," she bemoans on a rasping breath, hand resting flat on his navel and sliding slowly up toward his sternum as if to brace herself to swing off of him. Except she doesn't, still ensnared. Evie bites her lip. "You're making it very hard to enforce getting up here."
Any other time the thought of food would override most other necessities; but this consumption and devouring was of a different sort, and the shared looks, the residual glows, the potential for more persistent pleasure failed to flicker away. They pooled deep within, and it seemed like he was going to have to be the one with reason, even when caught and snared with restlessness; the tug and pull in alternating directions.
“Not sure if that is a compliment,” he murmured instead to the first notions, briefly snorting as her breath rasped and touched over his navel. Muscles undulated and rippled beneath her touch, and the sigh to follow was partially out of beholden sentiments and having to force thoughts away from those immediate angles.
Instead, he used his vantage points to lift her up and off; placing her back upon the floor. “Just a pause,” he assured, voice in her ear, for other things to come. A begrudging motion of his own followed suit, bare feet on the wooden portions, mouth on hers, before pulling away to head to actual, imparted destinations.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Despite being the one to have held fast to the offer when initiating it, her resolve crumbles beneath his attention, the promise of days of just the two of them and little more to concern themselves with than the slaking of their lust - and any other desire or craving.
"Always," she murmurs sincerely in the wake of his uncertainty, for even her playfulness could never eclipse the honesty of her infatuation with him. To want him more than air, more than water or food or sleep, is something she had thought only true in fanciful passages in well-thumbed pages of books hidden beneath her mattress in her youth.
But even that kind of romanticism cannot, in the end, dissuade more human notions. And though she pouts slightly when he lifts her with ease and settles her on her feet, it is easily smoothed away by his mouth on hers. Sighing at the sight of Deimos retreating - how she hates to watch him leave but loves to see him go (especially considering his current nudity) - Evie turns on her heel to resist temptation greater than biblical apples and walks in the other direction. Busying herself with gathering ingredients and measuring them out to make pancake mix, ensuring the consistency of the batter is perfect while the pan heats to allow the heat of desire to simmer and ebb.
It hadn’t been a doubt in her sincerity, but he laughed for it anyway. Fully aware of the temptations, and resisting his own, he puttered onward, already giving way to conjuring notions and images in his head for later opportunities. Upon snagging his way into the bathroom, he tossed her a robe he’d long-since created from there, before closing the door and adhering to all other necessities.
Through an impressive haste and ample reasons for doing so, he eventually re-emerged clean, wet, untangling threads of long hair, with only a towel around his waist for the barest portion of modesties. The aroma of the pancakes, and Evie herself, were wondrous lures, and eventually he wound his way to glance over her shoulder, intentionally dripping water and mouth purposefully pointed along the juncture of her nape. “Your turn,” a rumble thereafter, slipping away only to find the chocolate chips and eye the stack of made-components. “Do you want to eat these inside or outside?”
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Evie doesn't have long to wait, and the first pancake sizzles freshly on the pan as Deimos comes over her shoulder, wetness breaching the barrier the robe provides and sliding down her own skin in a way that makes her wrinkle her nose and has her shoulders shaking in a subdued laugh. Were it not for the warmth of his mouth she might have playfully shrugged him away, but it keeps her rooted, willing to bear the tickle of cold for the reward of his continued touch.
Not that it lasts much longer given their need to switch. Neatly flipping the pancake so the other side can begin to brown, she sets the spatula to the side and watches him meander to the other ingredients with a grin. They'll be easy enough to add into the plain mixture she'd made; precisely why she'd done it. "Outside, it's still beautiful." Even with dusk settling heavy and twilight approaching. They have no reason to worry about warmth either.
"Don't let that burn!" she calls over her shoulder with a smile as she retreats to the shower, equally inclined not to dawdle given her solitude beneath the spray and the temptation of hot food and hotter company if she cuts a few corners. Emerging with damp hair towel-dried and loose down her back, Evie dons her robe anew and pokes her head out from the bedroom to see whether the food is done or if she should proceed to the back porch.
He tracked movements easily, between pancake flipping and receding Evie motions, nodding in agreement with the press of evening and dinner prospects. Picking up the spatula as she departed from it, he added the chips into the mixture quickly, extending his teasing mannerisms with a guttural response. “Do not take too long,” with a wrinkle to his nose; figuring she’d take the comment in whatever manner she pleased – he certainly gave multiple connotations.
And if he ate a few stray portions of chocolate while she wasn’t looking, then so be it.
But before long the hot roll of steam filtered from open doors, and he’d tended to their incoming meal well, ready to present an entire stack and multiple plates for their modest banquet. Winking as he went past her, he headed towards the door leading upon the back porch, already complete with another fire roaring nearby and a simple set-up of glassware.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
It's perfect timing, and almost cartoonish with how he passes her with a steaming stack of plates that carries their aroma straight to her nose and hooks her by it, sending her padding off in his wake to keep them firmly within sight. The fire outside is beautiful, but the purple and deep reds of the sky vainly holding onto the last bit of light is the real star of the show. Evie marvels at the early evening stars stubbornly peeking through in the darkest shades, and settles with her feet tucked beneath her into one of the lounge chairs as Deimos sets out his spread.
"Think we can make this our permanent vacation home?" It's a spur of the moment thought, and they certainly don't need a second home, but it's a compliment unto itself. The lakehouse is beautiful, and even her hunger can't steal her attention away immediately, even though it triumphs shortly thereafter as she eyes the pancakes gluttonously. Serving herself, she reaches her free hand toward Deimos in search of his own, content to cut up her food with her fork if it means getting to hang onto a piece of him while they eat.
Deimos hadn’t forgotten the touches and fringes of Safrin’s gift – a testament in her skies, highlighted in all their serene glory – as the cosmos spread like jewels, hues blurring and bursting into brilliant schisms. Another silent thank you followed suit to the goddess, before turning his attention to another, arching a brow at the inquiry.
He didn’t reply immediately, tending to the food first while pondering over the circumstances. Maneuvering a small table between them, and placing the stack along the surface, he watched as she dug in ravenously and he intended to follow suit. A short laugh bellowed through his chest, granting her a hand while his other managed his fork as well, cutting through the initial pancake with a neat slice. “I do not see why not.” It was an excuse to keep and maintain it, a furtive little secret away from the growing rises of King’s End, without the burn of harsher memories. To fill it with more than banishment and honeymoons; a private getaway. “Will we get to use it much?” He teased; mostly because he knew of their arduous efforts in Halo.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Her smile is hardly concealed even by the large slice of pancake hovering just before it, pleased to hear his laughter as always but equally pleased by his ready acceptance of the idea no matter how spontaneous. Her thumb dances idle circles around his knuckles, taking the time to savor her bite while she ruminates on his valid questions.
"Likely not, but if it's properly closed up between visits it shouldn't be too much of a hassle to get it set to rights when we do come," she considers. And why not have a small luxury to themselves, even if they do not vacation as often as other couples might? Surely if anyone deserves a bit of a splurge it's them. "Vacation homes weren't a thing with the barrier. I think it would be nice for us or any future family to have. Plus Kiada can visit it much easier," she points out, though she knows the harpy has her coat to enable her to visit Halo more readily now. Evie knows she doesn't need to sell him on the topic per se, but it's good to talk out the pros and cons of keeping it. And if her sentimentality is the main driving reason given it's their honeymoon destination, well...simply another piece of gold to tip the scales in her favor.
While she ruminated, he ate, sliding several pieces along, content with company, the open skies, the roaring fire, and the confections on his tongue. On some manner of juvenility, he turned over his palm, purposefully catching her fingers. “Perhaps,” he murmured after swallowing down a few more portions, eyes segmenting over the lake, the nestled bout of wood, the precipices of peace they’d managed to find and maintain for a few days. The sense of responsibility loomed though, as always, and he wondered if and when they’d be able to even snag those precious and rare opportunities – how far arrangements would have to go, and what to do if threats unfurled in their absence.
His gaze segmented back to her, snorting at the subject of ‘vacation homes’ in the Grounds. He couldn’t fathom such a thing there, not when so many were hellbent on survival, or struggling within the barrier. “Not too far from Ru either,” he mentioned on the subject of Kiada and family – making no invitation for Sunjata. “If we can make it something feasible,” he teased again, with another wrinkle to his nose and another pancake consumed.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Evie tilts her head obligingly at the additional point of Hotaru, though she is equally not free of the idea of how little they may be able to use it given their shared aspects of Wardenship. Especially with no council to speak of, no generals or right hands to step into their shoes when the need arose.
"Even wings can't always fly us fast enough," she bemoans, letting her hand fall into his readily with a small smile over his antics. "If we had a council it would not be so daunting, but I'm happy with our arrangement now." Though she concedes a glimmer of the future with a tilt of her head and another small bite of their dessert. "That may change in the future, but not something to count on."
Licking syrup off her lips, she squeezes Deimos' hand and smiles mischievously. "Or we could keep it anyway, even if it sits and rots most of the time. There's nothing saying we can't." Only those who might find it wasteful, and Evie thinks she's allowed to ignore them given how little she'd grown up with.
There was some consideration about potential future skyports nearby, to which he had no jurisdiction or decision, but his breath unfurled over council dilemmas and issues. “We probably should have said no politics on our honeymoon,” he countered, grateful for the chance to talk about it, but not wanting to bog down their modest vacation with government affairs; not when they had so little opportunity in the first place. Propping his feet up on a nearby log, and desecrating the remains of his pancake stack, he snagged at her fingers again, an idle brush of his thumb over each.
“It has sat here for years anyway,” he murmured. It hadn’t gotten much use in the interim – Noah had been called into Vi’s service soon after, and Deimos had taken on the Monster Hunter’s Guild, bringing Cordelia to Torchline as they all scrambled together to find footholds. “Regardless, it will be here for us.” Whenever they needed or required it – clean or otherwise.
the ressurected sword
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Evie laughs obligingly and twists her fork in the air as if dispelling the topic physically. "You're right, no more of that." They are both unrepentant workaholics, so it's unfortunately a little too easy sometimes for the mind to wander to Halo even when in an entirely different region. Allowing her fingers to be played with, she watches the hues of their skin intertwine instead of the food she is finishing, licking syrup off the tines of her fork when the last piece has been consumed.
"Then it's ours for the keeping," she declares firmly, bouncing her fist lightly off the table with fork still in hand, grinning. Relinquishing the utensil, she drops her legs from under her to lean over to Deimos and kiss him, relishing in the slight sweet tinge from the meal they just shared. "We have all of the night ahead of us if we plan to swim at sunrise. Anything calling your name?" she murmurs as she parts just enough to speak those very words.
