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!
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
The season is drawing endlessly on towards its close, and life has fallen into an almost wonderfully predictable march. With any luck the Maverick's office will soon be empty of any void flora and fauna, his council are acting like a council (and who knew they could do that?), the Grounds are thriving, the Dusklight is busy, and life is good.
Danta, though, is bored.
And he's decided to play a game with his recent lodger.
Having seen - not once, but a handful of times - his steadfast boys and girls try to catch the tall, scarred Ancient's attention, only to fail at every hurdle, Danta has started to take matters into his own hands. At first he'd hide out behind the bar, sending increasingly tempting morsels to petition at the other man's door each night; this one in leather, that one bound and blindfolded, and all of them blonde.
But fuck if Astaroth isn't a tough nut to crack.
Eventually, deciding that Tall, Dark and Cannibal is a lost cause, tonight the Maverick shows up himself. He's got a bottle of wine in hand (a peace offering) and a fine, you are a better man than I ready and waiting on his lips. And so, leaning against the frame of Astaroth's closed door, he raps at it with his knuckles and waits.
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Gods, he was really getting tired of hearing that knock on his door. Night after night an incessant amount of busybodies, ones that he’s sure his best frenemy has convinced to approach his door. Each day an inch further into breaking that promise of not being sloppy. Danta’s asked for it, after all. But the knock on his door tonight is different, quieter almost, defeated, and he absolutely lets it sit there for a moment while he debates even answering.
He leads a relatively boring life within the confines of the room here at the Dusklight, this evening in particular has his bed strewn with his fine clothing, folded meticulously alongside the less finer ones, stained with bits of blood. At least he has the foresight to think about it ahead of time, each one of these items is white, and there’s the chemical scent of a cleaner that he dips the items in to clean them up more fully.
And he’s waiting for it to be done with the washbasin beside him that he dunks it in to make sure he doesn’t clean it too far to where it breaks the fibers down, which leads him to grabbing a towel to wipe his hands – shirtless, because he’s in the confines of his room and the shirt he would be wearing is currently getting the cleaning treatment.
The door swings open partially, his horned head poking out as his lips part to flash a sharp toothed grin with a “not intere—” that gets cut off the second he sees the familiar blonde and truthfully his favorite weakness in the Climb. Wine. “Didn’t have enough bodies to keep you warm tonight that you come crawling over to mine?” He asks, grin sharpening as the door opens wider and his gaze drops to that bruise placed on Danta’s shoulder. He steps back and aside to let the other Ancient in. His room is a bit of a mess at the moment, as stated above, but the heat within is divine, and there’s bits and pieces of collections restarted since he’d lost all the ones he harbored within the Climb, set meticulously within the shelves on the rooms interior.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
It's not just the bruise on his shoulder in the suspicious shape of teeth (teeth that match a certain Ancient, not that anyone but Asta would care) that's on show; dressed in a loose linen shirt rolled to the elbows and unbuttoned right down towards the midriff, all of Danta's marks and recent injuries are there for the admiring. They're all superficial though, not to worry - and besides, he's more interested in the state of Astaroth as he opens the door.
"Being in the Grounds has made you very abrupt," he notes with a catlike grin. Not even a darling or a my dear clipped onto his opening remarks? It's practically rude compared to the man he once knew. "And on the contrary - between the two of us, you are the one lacking in bodies to keep you warm." As they are both well aware.
Still, as Asta kindly steps aside to let him in, Danta enters the room only to scrunch his nose at the chemical smell, glancing around not at the collections - which are interesting, and he will get to them later he's sure - but at the mess, the basin full of cleaning solution, the piles of clothes. "I didn't know you were into biological warfare," he quips, glancing around instead for anything that might do in a pinch to pour the wine into.
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
After so many nights of denying company sent to his door, he is admittedly a bit grumpy despite seeing that it’s Danta this time. “It can be an abrupt place at times.” Newer faces he meets do receive the treatments of darling, my dear, sweetheart, but here specifically? He can’t find them on his tongue. Especially when he’s put up with the incessant knocking night after night. Each one blonde, each one in more ridiculous outfits.
He tsks his tongue as he steps aside to let Danta in, a snort leaving him after. “Intentional, if you recall.” The Maverick had no such qualms, of course. But he closes the door either way behind Danta and his shadow casts a look of a spider as he steps past him back toward his current project, withdrawing the now back to white shirts and ringing them out before hanging it on a line beside the raging fireplace. “Unlike you I prefer to keep my attire clean of our scarlet rendezvous.” He’s busy making space, but if Danta looks above the dresser he’d find a few glasses (more like goblets) that would do just fine for the wine.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
"Mm, it can," Danta agrees, leaving Asta to be appropriately domestic and letting out a soft aha! as he spots a pair of goblets he can use. "Intentionally or otherwise," he continues, voice a little muffled as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle with his teeth, "if you don't blow off some steam, you're probably more dangerous to the Grounds these days than you ever were in the Climb."
You know, given the lack of rampant violence to partake in, and the somewhat sterile method of getting tasty body parts to eat. Pouring the wine, he offers Asta a glass out. "But," he adds, remembering why he's come, "I admit I may have been overzealous. There will be no more scratching at your door, I promise." Letting a hand flutter to his chest and ducking into a roguish bow, he smiles to the other man.
"Besides, it looks like you're finding appropriate ways to keep yourself busy. Have you considered exclusively wearing red?" He's basically there already, Danta thinks.
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“And where might you suggest I do that?” He asks, because for now he’s been relatively good — hunting in the Outskirts, getting his meals resourcefully. And so far he’s been doing alright, if it weren’t for Danta’s antics as of late.
With space made, Asta sits on the edge of his bed and stretches out his legs, spaded tail waving idly like a cats might as he takes the glass of wine from Danta and flashes a toothy grin. “It was getting to a point I was wondering if they were offerings.” Like how one might sacrifice the lamb for their gods. Even the grin he cuts is sharp but it’s clear he had no intention of it, regardless of how tempting it was.
Motioning to the side of the bed for Danta to have a seat beside him, he takes a sip of it, relishing in the sweet yet dry taste of the wine on his tongue. “Believe it or not, blood still stains red clothing. The horror, I know.” He drawls before he gestures a little to the other side of the room where three red pieces of varying cuts of a suit, vest, and overcoat sit.
“White is easier to get out. But if I don’t intend on getting my hands dirty, I prefer it.” Not unlike Danta in that way, preferring red that is.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
"I don't know. Maybe go tear shit up in the Greatwood? It's been taken over by ThE VoId, or so they say. Probably plenty out there to really let loose on." The urge for violence, at least, might be sated that way - and Danta knows that craving all too well - but he doesn't think it would end well if they tried to feast on any of the void creatures.
Sinking down easily beside the other man on the bed, he takes an indulgent drink from his own goblet and hums approvingly - it has taken a little while, but the Dusklight has come across quite a few good vintages as of late. "Offerings?" He grins, scoffing out a laugh. "It's probably a good thing I stopped. If you really started eating my workers, I'd have a lot of questions to answer."
And it probably wouldn't look great for this whole responsible(ish) leader image he's been trying to cultivate. Or play at cultivating anyway.
"It does? Gosh, do tell me more," the Maverick drawls, and the smirk on his face tells that only one of them is remotely interested in fashion or fabrics or how to keep them crisp and pristine.
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
His nose immediately wrinkles with the idea of tearing up the void creatures, despite having zero experience of them since his arrival. He’d heard of them, of course, and if that sense of awfulness radiating from Danta’s office is anything to go off of, he’s fuckin good on that, thanks. “I’d rather not see what could potentially be caught from those.” He doesn’t know if it’s possible but he also doesn’t want to find out.
At least he can drown his sorrows of those thoughts in another little sip of the wine, settling a bit more comfier on the springy mattress, huffing a laugh of his own as Danta understands what he means. “You would. So I haven’t.” But he’d absolutely thought about it.
Either way, no food to be had, Astaroth shrugs lightly, knowing full well Danta cares little about staining of clothing, having never quite needed to be held to higher standards in that regard like Asta had painfully learned (half of the story written on his deeply carved out flesh). “I don’t intend on indulging you unless you’re actually considering having a nicer wardrobe.” He teases, flashing another toothy grin back to the shorter Ancient.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
"First of all, fuck you," Danta says affectionately, referring to his apparently sub-par wardrobe. "If I ever did start dressing the way you did, I'd have to fight everyone off with a stick. So consider it a lucky escape." Is it a veiled compliment for Astaroth's dress sense? He'll never tell. Instead, taking another very healthy sip of his wine, he lets out a long sigh and leans back on one hand, admiring the little home the other man has made for himself.
"You know, I never thought I'd see you in such a mundane setting," he remarks with a smirk, and though it seems teasing, the Maverick is sincere for once. "It's still strange for me to marry up who we were with who we are now." Some things never change, of course - bloodlust, violent cravings, trauma - but the men who had prowled The Climb would never have been caught like this.
"Do you miss it?"
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
A warm and deep chuckle leaves him at the affectionate curse – so at odds from just a short few weeks ago. Perhaps that’s what happens when you actually learn about someone from the source, rather than being force fed the information that brought so much hate and anger. He still won’t quite admit it, but the Maverick isn’t half bad, and this time away from the Climb has been the most fun he’s had in… Well, forever. Even with the gore crow escapades.
He might even forgive the man.
“Danta, darling, why do you think I have a cane?” He teases, flashing another sharp toothed grin back the Maverick’s way before shrugging slightly and taking yet another sip.
But, sentimentality creeps in and he looks around the room and what he’s made of it, the mess of clothes still needing to be hung and put away, but at least they were folded for now. He snorts, rolling a scarred shoulder in agreement. “Mm, that’s because it is strange.” After all, Danta was standing here a ruler of a region, never a station that Asta could imagine him in. And it appears to be going surprisingly well.
“Some of it.” He says with a soft little sigh. “I don’t miss everyone we dealt with.” Obviously. “But I miss the parties and the heat of the Climb. I miss the hunting parties the most.” For obvious reasons, having been quite the stalwart figure, but he shrugs lightly and leans back a little to look at Danta more fully. “Do you?” He has to assume for the most part they might agree. Bits and pieces missed and longed for, while others could be better off without.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
Unable to help himself, Danta snorts out a laugh at the other man's quick retort, elbowing him gently in the side for good measure. "Touche," he drawls, quickly finishing his first cup of wine and reaching out for the bottle to top himself up. "I was going to suggest it was because you were old and decrepit, but I suppose that makes sense too. Imagine what you'd have to do to keep them at bay now." He refers to the shirtless, domestic version of Astaroth in his company, of course.
Humming his agreement about the present and its weird circumstances, Danta ought to have expected the question to be turned back at him, but he's still mildly taken by surprise. "Some of it," he echoes with a gentle nod. "I miss never feeling cold, and the company of so many other Ancients. I miss the chaos." But things change, of course, and so have they.
"Never got to have conversations like this back there, though," he says to play devil's advocate. "Could never trust anyone enough."
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
He sighs quite an exasperated sigh as Danta continues, rolling his eyes slightly as he finishes his cup and hands it out expectantly toward the Maverick. “I need my magic back.” He whines a nasally kind of sound, before exhaling. “That should help.” Of course, he attributes it to being stuck as stone for so long, his magic and other shifts vanishing the longer he remained a statue.
Agreement is hummed at the mention of the chaos, as is the playful quirk of his lips with it. “Mm, it was nice.” As for the conversation subject, Asta’s nose wrinkles in agreement again. “I was told specifically to not talk to you.” He says it casually but Asta’s eyes linger on the blonde, drifting between his face to the bruise. “Unless it was short and in passing. It was a strict rule since I arrived.” It’s why he remained such a lone wolf, not entirely because of his fyrhund shift, of course.
innocence died screaming honey, ask me, I should know
"Less whine, more wine," Danta scolds, the pun a little lost given that he's spoken it, but he dutifully refills Astaroth's cup nevertheless. "Things will come back in time," he adds after taking a sip from his goblet and putting down the bottle. "I feel stronger now than I did when I first woke up." And ruling a region has even made him (gasp) a little more tempered than those first chaotic days sneaking down from the Climb.
"Oh, you were?" He scoffs, remembering the past as though it was still recent, despite it being hundreds if not thousands of years ago now. "That doesn't surprise me - Morax didn't make many friends. Besides, they probably thought I'd be a bad influence on you." Danta is entirely making that up, of course, although he was on the chaotic bottom rung of the ladder back in their old home. If starving and half-mad still counted as merely chaotic.
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Table base by Skylark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Asta snorts and rolls his eyes, chucking a soft “then give me more wine.” It’s a little demanding, but he softens when it’s full and Danta offers his words of wisdom. He nods and nearly leans back more like an annoyed teenager might, but refrains halfway.
“Makes sense.” He drawls, taking a sip in the meantime. As Danta questions the instructions from back then, Asta nods. “It was more so assumed that you would be a mini version of her, poised to take over.” His hand lifts, waving dramatically before he aims his fingers to poke at the bruise he’d left. “I was the bad influence.” He flashes a toothy grin.
His hand withdraws quickly and he takes another sip as if nothing ever happened.
