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Character of the Season
From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
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!
05-29-2024, 07:35 PM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2024, 07:49 PM by Astaroth.)
a romantic, candelit dinner would be incomplete
(Offshoot from the Ball!)
Her smile of delight is met with one of Astaroth’s own, hanging up the cane as he reaches to take her hand, downing his own glass of wine and discarding his and her glass elsewhere, the butcher is quite content to see what kind of dance they can put on for everyone.
It’s been an age for himself, too, but he imagines it’s a lot like riding a bicycle. And Astaroth had spent quite a few years figuring out how to dance amongst the ballroom and those high up within them. So as he guides her into the center of the room and turns to face her, his head dips in that traditional greeting as the music slowly begins. “How have you found the night thus far?” He asks as he draws up to his perfect posture and his hands find their place along her side and in her hand, and the two Ancients begin to move.
It's been a very long time indeed since Isla was allowed to stretch her duchess legs - and even back in Northaven, it wasn't as though she was afforded the opportunity very often as a field medic. And so as she turns to face Astaroth on the dancefloor, her smile remains and she dips onto a curtsey before stepping up to dance with him.
"Quiet," she admits of the night so far, allowing him to lead and letting her hand clasp gently against his shoulders as they manoeuvre around the makeshift ballroom. "Not that it's a bad thing, mind you. The last time I was here it was under markedly different circumstances."
Not that she's keen for talk of war to interrupt the festivities, and so she glances up at the butcher and tilts her head. "There are plenty of new faces, though. You seem to have done well here in the Grounds."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Is that so?” He asks as they start, stepping forward to match her step back, swaying a little before pulling her back with him. A low hum of agreement leaves him, though, because he found those tomes that Danta had mentioned in the Atheneum and had found quite a surprising amount of recollection over the war that the Grounds had faced while he himself was quite blissfully unaware in his slumber. “I don’t wish to open up old wounds.” He starts to say, in case she gets the idea of elaborating for his sake when he knows they should be enjoying the evening.
For the rest of it, though, that grin remains and he moves to take her hand to spin her, pulling her into his chest after. “It’s become somewhat of a new Haven for us Ancients. Perhaps you might find it soothing to see it become something else from what you recall?” He asks, cocking his head a little, a little sly question of whether she might come to visit him for tea rather than the opposite.
"Not to worry, I assure you. The real wounds are buried elsewhere in this region." Isla smiles softly, matching him step for step. Memories that lay buried in the Domiciles, or through darkened streets that probably don't even seem that familiar any more. Nevertheless, she appreciates his concern. "I did used to run the Infirmary here, though," she continues conversationally. "Perhaps I'll have to visit before I go back to Torchline, see if it's still up to my standards."
Spinning out elegantly at his direction, the slit in Isla's red dress allows her more movement than she might otherwise be allowed, and she tucks back in against Asta's chest with ease. "Even a season ago I might have politely declined your offer, but you know, seeing the Temple like this... perhaps it is time I come back to see what has changed." She nods. "Where would I find you if I did visit?"
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Mm, I do know the feeling.” Astaroth murmurs, guiding Isla along to the music as they continue to dance. It’s quite a sight, too, the two of them impeccably fluid with one another one might think they have spent more time with each other than just talk over tea. “Oh I do hope so, my dear, I spend quite a bit of time there.” He says with a chuckle, turning them to face the other way with a few easy steps, giving her a moment to take the lead should she wish to.
When it comes to visiting, though, his grin broadens. “I am security for the Dusklight, where I also live. An exchange with darling Danta.” He explains with a chuckle. “However, the rest of the Inner Quarter has quite a few places to visit that are worth the trip.” He recalls a bit fondly to that store with the tea set Danta had found, before his grin widens for her, toothy and sharp.
05-29-2024, 08:12 PM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2024, 08:12 PM by Isla.)
Isla
"You do? A budding medic, are we?" Isla raises her eyebrows to him, and the flash of her fanged teeth is suddenly questioning. "Or are there more injuries tucked away under that impeccable suit?" Somehow she doubts either of those are the answer, and part of her wonders if she wants to know the truth - and yet, here they are regardless, and as he lends her the lead the music conveniently picks up, allowing Isla to spin into something more befitting a swing dance than ballroom.
"Ah, the Dusklight, that's right. Perhaps I'll stop by to see you there. The Last Whisper didn't exist in my Hollowed Grounds, so all of that is quite new," she says. "I meant to say, by the way - I hope you don't take it as a slight, that I didn't wear your dress tonight." The seafoam garment is indeed very lovely, but somehow a Midwinter Ball seemed to call for something a touch more dramatic.
"You'll be sure to see it at the Hanged Man's reopening."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
A resounding chuckle escapes Astaroth as they continue their dance, his grin wide as he shakes his head. “Ah, no. Alas, I have zero injuries and zero interest in learning more of how to care for my own potential issues.” He offers, though his smile shifts and twists into something sharper and even more mischievous. “There are other promising reasons to be there, but I’m afraid those are secrets kept quite close to my chest.” These days, at least. After Maea’s panic, he realizes not everyone quite understands as they had once upon a time.
She takes the lead, though, and Asta follows swiftly, engaging the shift with such fluidity into the swing dance that his grin widens again with ease. “No slight taken, darling. I look forward to seeing it then.” He assures her before the butcher continues. “This one, however, is quite lovely. It almost looks as though we planned it.” He teases, gesturing briefly to himself within the dance and the red and blacks that swirl with golden accents, his pronged horns even jeweled up. “What gossip we shall be a part of, hmm?” He’d heard the brief whispers between Isla and Flora back at the Hanged Man, but had paid it little thought at the time. Now, though?
"Zero interest?" Isla repeats with a peal of laughter that coincides with a small spin out on her part. "Astaroth, everyone should have at least a cursory interest in their own wellbeing, you know. Unless you plan to take a trip to Torchline every time something serious happens." Now it's her turn to tease, and she returns to his arms to allow him to lead once more.
Secrets aside (and that earns an intrigued tilt of Isla's head, but luckily she lands on drug dealer rather than cannibal or necrophiliac, so at least there's that), the Remedy glances down between them as if only just noticing their matching ensembles. "It does, doesn't it?" She chuckles. "Don't tell Flora. In fact, if you spot her come in, please lead us around one of the pillars so she doesn't see. You have the benefit of staying in the Grounds - I will be travelling home with her."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
Another chuckle leaves him and he rolls a shoulder that absolutely looks like it’s part of the dance. “I manage well enough. When it becomes an issue is when I seek out your brilliant mind.” He flashes another knowing grin, ignoring the incline of her head before the conversation continues and they shift, the dance continuing in that perfect swing motion.
Now it’s his turn to tilt his head back toward her, before his dark gaze takes a cursory glance to the crowd (and quite a few eyes that are on them, despite not seeing Flora’s, the gossip would still likely spread). “Hmm, let me guess. She thinks we have indulged one another?” He asks, blunt and up front about it, watching her face for the reaction.
"Well, unless you count on my brilliant mind being conveniently nearby when those serious occasions crop up, you might find yourself having to rely upon this infirmary at least some of the time." The wit and teasing is easy when it's accompanied by music, especially when exchanged with as good a dancer as her current partner, and Isla ducks beneath one of his arms and turns, spinning around him until she can rejoin him on his other side.
Pointedly not glancing at the crowd - you can take the girl out of the duchess and all that - Isla can't help but scoff at his rather blunt way of putting it. "She absolutely does," she agrees. "But then, even if she knows we haven't, I think she'd still like to believe it. Between us, I think she would like to be the one indulging in you."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
“Ahh, I suppose.” He drawls with a small laugh. “Are you sure you can’t just wait for me and all my glory?” Another bit of gentlemanly jest from the butcher as she spins and ends up on his other side and his arm slips around her middle, indulging in the new shift and the movement, thoroughly enjoying himself enough to be blunt for the next section of their chat.
And what a section it is, as another deep rumble of a laugh leaves him. “While the two of you are quite stunning, I do have a certain… mm, how shall I say it?” He seems to muse as he twists back to face her, flashing that same sharp toothed grin. “Preference?” It isn’t exactly what he wants to say but it gets the point across, he supposes.
"My good sir, I am not in the habit of waiting for anyone these days," Isla sasses right back, though the twinkle in her pebble blues gives her away. (Especially seeing as she's waiting on Everest Hart to return from his sexcapades even as they speak). "But that being said, I would never turn away someone in need of medical assistance." Here's just hoping that Asta's visits to Torchline - and Isla's to the Grounds - coincide more with tea and shopping than accidents and emergencies.
Not expecting Asta's sudden frankness, the Remedy is nonetheless touched by it, and she tilts her head and glances for a moment over the butcher's shoulder towards the Maverick before her gaze returns to him, and she nods. "I see," she purrs. "A shame for the rest of us, that. But I won't complain, as long as you always ask me for a dance." Speaking of which, the music is tragically starting to draw to a close for this song, and Isla starts to slow her steps.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
Her sass could nearly brighten his dark gaze with the amusement that bleeds from him, evident in the grin that spreads. One that has him inclining his head to her follow up, pleased as punch to hear that they’d come to the same sentiments. “I was hoping you might say that.” He muses with a soft little laugh, fully intending on letting their catch ups revolve around tea sets and different blends and perhaps books, now that the butcher has some down time.
But those thoughts fade as he starts to become more blunt once more, unsure how exactly to describe the fact that it wasn’t so much of a preference as it was a ’it happens pretty rarely and when it does it’s usually bloody and something tells me not many people appreciate that’ when he catches her glance over his shoulder toward the Maverick and Astaroth playfully rolls his eyes at the thought – even if she was absolutely fucking correct on that one. Wow.
Something he slips aside for later, wondering how obvious it might be. And what exactly that meant. But she gives him the opening he seeks when she says a same for the rest of us, because that grin spans again and he cocks his head a little. “Once again, it isn’t that I wouldn’t. I simply happen to think I’ll ruin my wonderful reputation should I indulge.” Because right now he was every ounce a gentleman. But without a strong leash to hold him back, that gentleman could become monster in the blink of an eye.
The music starts to stop, however, and Astaroth slows with it before bowing to her, taking her hand gently to lift to his lips to plant a gentle kiss to the back of it. “You are the best dance partner I think I have ever had. Of course I will always ask for a dance with you.” Flashing her a wink, Astaroth steps back, allowing her to mingle once more before he’ll depart to collect his cane.
Inclining her head at his comment - of course she would say something like that, as a medic who had taken a hippocratic oath (or whatever the Northaven equivalent might be) - Isla lets the subject drop but hopes nonetheless that her next visit with Astaroth will be much like this one, if a little less formal. As for the would or wouldn't of it all, the Remedy can't help but let out a musical laugh at that as she twirls to a stop, ready to offer a graceful curtsey.
"There is nothing more exciting than the prospect of a ruined reputation," she reminds him with a soft bounce of her eyebrows; the eyes upon them and the knots of people gossiping and drinking are evidence enough of that. Alas, the song is over and it is time to end their dance, though Isla will happily join Asta for another should the evening bring them together again.
"I am glad to hear it. You are a fine dancer yourself," she murmurs, straightening up and allowing her hand to be taken and kissed. "Until next time then, Astaroth." Dipping into another, more shallow curtsey, Isla takes her leave of the dancefloor and goes to seek out another glass of rich red wine for a spot of people watching.
~FIN
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
