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Character of the Season
Frail in body but dangerously quick of mind, Nikandr is the sort of character who proves that curiosity can be just as perilous as any weapon. A necromancer, inventor, and problem-solver with more ambition than self-preservation, Niki approaches the world like a puzzle box begging to be opened, even when what’s inside has teeth. Blunt, dry-witted, fiercely independent, and carrying a history best left partially buried, he has a knack for making even failure feel fascinating. Whether he’s raising the dead, moving across Caido to King's End, or experiencing a hangover for the first time, Nikandr brings a wonderfully strange spark to Caido, and we can’t wait to see what trouble his brilliant mind wanders into next.
Congratulations, Niki!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
His stumbled and hurried response wasn't very convincing, not to add the flush beginning to invade his features. She narrowed her eyes more, somewhat concerned for the sudden onset of symptoms. "Are you sure? You look a little red. I've heard people can get red when they have fevers. Do you have a fever?" She adjusted her arms to lift a hand like she might test for herself, but he was already turning away, apparently very invested in their offering.
Although still unconvinced of Marcus's health, Nova was swept up easily in his redirection. Her eyes brightened as she bounced to disperse her gathered pieces across the roots that would make up their workstation then flopped into a crouch next to him. "Okay! We have to make a base first!" Fingers splayed and grin wide like a mad scientist, she gathered some sticks from around them. "Let's weave these together!" Without any more instruction, Nova began to twist and manipulate the twigs and sticks into a circular shape. So concentrated, her tongue stuck out slightly between her lips, an excited hum escaping her thoughts into reality while she occasionally bumped Marcus as she worked, fixated on the task at hand.
as many as the stars in the sky that no one can count as many as the grains of sand on the seashore that no one can measure
He took the branches from her. Marcus bent them slowly between his hands, testing the give of the wood while Nova vibrated nearby in a storm of leaves and petals. The motion gave him something steady to focus on. Something that wasn’t the curious tilt of her head or the way she was studying him so intently, as if she expected him to suddenly confess to some grave injury or onset of illness. Or perhaps to confess that, while gathering supplies, he had eaten some berry he didn’t recognize.
The warmth still lingered stubbornly in his cheeks. For a brief moment, a reckless thought surfaced—simple and far too honest. He could just tell her. It wouldn’t be a complicated explanation. He could shrug, say it plainly. Just say that he thought she was beautiful. That when she had nearly fallen into him, surrounded by all those autumn colors, it had caught him off guard. Maybe she would laugh. Maybe she would blink at him in that open, unfiltered way she had about her, then agree with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to think such a thing. But there was another possibility too, that it would shift something between them in a way he didn’t understand yet, turn the easy warmth of the moment into something awkward and uncertain. Marcus glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the restless energy she had. Not here, he decided. Not now. And certainly not beneath a tree that housed a listening and fickle and terrifying deity.
Quietly clearing his throat, Marcus forced his attention back to the branch in his hands. With careful pressure he curved it into a rough circle and began threading a thinner branch through the bend to hold the shape. His fingers worked methodically, twisting the ends together until the frame began to hold. “I think this might work. If I weave a few more through here it should stay together.” His eyes moved to her as she brushed her arm against his unconsciously, the warmth spreading up his neck again. “Then you can start adding all the impressive stuff you found, yeah?”
Unaware of any deeper internal monologue, Nova worked at the curving base of the wreath, eyes flickering to Marcus's portion when he spoke. She paused in her humming to beam at him, impressed that he'd been able to solidify the frame so easily, the twigs and sticks intertwined to keep their shape. "Perfect! You're pretty good at this! Have you done it before?" Halo seemed like the kind of place people would get bored easily. Maybe he made it a habit of building wreaths in his spare time.
After a few more minutes of twisting and manipulating and ensure everything was snug, she was satisfied with the recognizable shape of a wreath. Clapping her hands together, Nova looked to Marcus again, smiling bright with excitement. "Let's add the leaves first!" Her shoulder brushed him as she leaned past to grab a bundle of vibrant leafchange leaves in her hands. When she settled on her heels again, she was already slotting them between the wooden portions, tilting her head this way and that as her bubbly voice rambled on. "We'll tuck them here and there and some over here..."
as many as the stars in the sky that no one can count as many as the grains of sand on the seashore that no one can measure
Marcus watched her hands move as she worked, quick and certain. She slid leaves neatly into the small gaps between the woven branches, flashes of gold and red layering over the rough brown frame. He held the wreath steady while she tucked them in, occasionally adjusting one that tried to slip free. He tried to stay just focused on the task, grateful for something practical to anchor his attention. But her shoulder brushed against his, and he felt an irregular flutter in his chest.
“Yeah, kinda.” Marcus said, pushing passed the flutter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he added another thin branch to reinforce the circle. “Olsons learn the ropes early. Traps, tools, shelter frames. You learn to weave branches together whether you want to or not.” Especially raised by two hunters. His mother had taught him many, many things in his youth. He missed her in this moment. ”Both my mom and dad are — were — hunters, and they wanted us to have the skills needed to survive on the tundra if we needed to.” He gently tightened one of the twists so it wouldn’t loosen once the heavier decorations were added. The structure was holding well now, the circle sturdy enough to survive Nova’s enthusiastic decorating.
Her shoulder brushed his again as she leaned in to place another cluster of leaves, and Marcus instinctively shifted his grip so the wreath tilted slightly toward her, making it easier to reach. The faint scent of damp leaves and crushed petals clung to the air between them, but he couldn’t help the way he picked up her scent too. Floral in a way that wasn’t overwhelming, and warm and soft. “I think it’s starting to look like something. I hope the Mathair will like this hanging from her tree.” he added, glancing sideways at her handiwork.
Her deft fingers tucked and slotted leaves into the wooden structure, glancing up at Marcus's smiling face as he spoke of where he'd learned to weave. She hadn't realized there were so many applications for the skill that she'd learned on her own, and her grin widened to hear of the other possibilities. "That's cool! What other things did you learn?" Weaving sticks and twigs was one thing, but perhaps he wasn't as helpless as she'd thought.
Giggling at the timid hope, Nova bumped his shoulder intentionally this time, a shimmer of excited starlight falling around them. "Of course she will! Because we made it!!" And her creations were always appreciated.
Once she felt that there were enough gold, orange, and red leaves filling the circle, she scrambled to grab the flowers. "Let's add the flowers then the acorns!" Some of the buds were crushed beyond whole usage, but Nova plucked the delicate petals and found snug places to secure them around the space. Meanwhile, the whole ones were spread evenly around the wreath, covering open spaces and barren sections that would be intolerable to leave exposed.
as many as the stars in the sky that no one can count as many as the grains of sand on the seashore that no one can measure
Petals disappeared into the woven branches, little bursts of white and purple and soft blues filling the spaces between the leaves’ fiery hues. He held the frame steady while she worked, adjusting the angle whenever she leaned closer so she didn’t have to reach as far. “A lot of things, I guess,” Marcus said, glancing down as he twisted the frame clockwise so she had a fresh part of canvas to work with. “Tracking mostly. How to read prints in snow, how to tell how old they are. Setting snares. Building shelters if the weather turns bad.” He shrugged lightly, as if it were all ordinary — which, to him, it had been. Long days on the tundra with his parents, wind cutting across endless white, lessons learned because they had to be. He was grateful for the conversation, for it distracted him and the warmth in his cheeks faded. “How to start fires when everything’s frozen. How to stay quiet when you’re hunting.” His mouth curved faintly. “Stuff like that.” As well as all kinds of things he learned on his own, spending countless hours in both the library and the Monster Hunter’s Guild reading and reading and reading.
Nova bumped his shoulder again and a quiet laugh slipped out of him despite himself. The little flicker of starlight drifting around them caught his eye, bright against the muted forest floor. “Alright, alright,” he said, lifting one hand in surrender at her certainty about the Mathair. “You sound pretty confident about that.” And he hoped she was right. From what his father had shared with him about the seasonal deity, well, he knew she could be dangerous. When she finished tucking in the flowers, Marcus reached for the small pile of acorns he’d gathered earlier. “Here,” he said, nodding toward the wreath. “Let’s anchor them in the stronger spots so they don’t fall out.” He rolled one between his fingers for a moment before pushing it carefully between the branches.
Nova didn't get the appeal - especially the part about being quiet. It all sounded so boring and tedious when people talked about hunting; tracking and snaring and waiting. There were plenty of things she'd rather be doing, but Marcus was smiling like it was the best thing in the world, so she wondered if she was missing something. "Do you need all that if you have your shifts? Why not just use your nose or curl up with some fur? Why do it at all?"
Accepting his surrender on the matter of the Mathair's approval, Nova let out another giggle, confidently sliding the stem of a white flower into the wreath. "That's because I'm right," she chimed, lifting her chin to throw him a winning smile. He'd quickly find that she's rarely wrong, especially in the matters of art and design.
Marcus's suggestion for the acorns was unnecessary, but she let him say it anyways, agreeing with a nod of her head. "Okay!" Then she filled the larger crevices between the wood with the acorns, making sure they sat snugly in their spaces while still being visible. She tilted her head left and right, leaning her body with the movement to get a look from all angles. She added some final touches where she saw necessary before giving a clap of approval. "Almost done! Let's hang it!" Nova smiled expectantly at Marcus, obvious indicating this to be his task.
as many as the stars in the sky that no one can count as many as the grains of sand on the seashore that no one can measure
Marcus turned the wreath slightly, watching the way the pieces came together under her careful eye. What had started as a loose ring of branches had become something far brighter with layers of flame-colored leaves, pale flowers tucked between them, acorns glinting like small polished stones. It looked good. Better than he had expected when the idea first left his mouth.
Her question about hunting lingered a moment in his mind before he answered, though his tone stayed light, trying to keep any tension from coiling between his shoulders or any heat from racing up his neck. “Shifts help,” he said with a small shrug, “but they’re not everything. Sometimes the wind’s wrong, or the ground’s too hard to track. And sometimes…” he tapped the wreath lightly with one finger, “…it’s just about knowing how to do things without magic.” That's what Cordelia had taught him when he was young. That she, and his father, had been able to accomplish so much in their lives before the touch of gods.
He smiled faintly at her confidence about the Mathair, though he didn’t argue the point. If anyone could decorate something bold enough to impress a fickle deity, it might be Nova. When she clapped and declared it finished, Marcus straightened and studied the towering tree above them. The roots were enormous, but the branches that truly belonged to the Mathair stretched far higher. “We should probably hang it higher.” he said, tipping his head back to judge the branches. “Somewhere the wind can catch it a little.”
Without much more explanation, Marcus stepped back a few paces from the trunk and set the wreath carefully in the grass. A familiar warmth rippled through him as his shift took hold, bones and muscle reshaping in a smooth, practiced motion. Where Marcus had stood, the white-tailed eagle now spread its broad wings. The great bird grasped the wreath carefully in its talons before beating upward through the wet autumn air, rising toward the wide limbs of the Mathair’s tree. After a brief circle to judge the branch, he settled and hooked the wreath securely where it would hang, bright and visible among the burning leaves.
Nova paused while adding the finishing touches to the wreath, gaping at Marcus. "'Without magic?' That sounds terrible!" A dramatic shiver ran through her body, nearly paling at the thought. She could maybe understand doing things out of shift - apposable thumbs were pretty helpful - but without magic?! It sounded like a living nightmare, one she'd felt only a few times before. Everything she did involved magic. From the way she assembled a new design to how she flicked her hair, she was never without it, and she couldn't imagine the appeal.
With the offering finally to her satisfaction, Nova was happy to let Marcus organize its placement (within reason). His suggestion of hanging it higher was met with vehement agreement, her head bobbing as she stood. "Okay!"
For a second, her head tilted and she wondered why he had changed his mind so quickly, setting it amongst the roots. But when he shifted and grabbed the wreath gently in his talons, understanding dawned. She looked up into the branches as he rose higher, scrutinizing the options before pointing insistently at one that had broken off, leaving it short and less appealing than the others. "Use that one!" It wasn't until the wreath rested safely along the branch that Nova clapped her hands again, obviously pleased as her voice chimed, "Perfect!" It rocked slowly in the damp breeze, the vibrant mixture of leaves and flowers standing out amongst the canopy, a perfect homage to the Greatwood and leafchange.
as many as the stars in the sky that no one can count as many as the grains of sand on the seashore that no one can measure
The branch Nova had pointed out held the wreath well. Marcus remained perched there for a moment in his eagle form, talons curled securely around the rough bark as the new decoration swayed gently. The leaves and flowers caught the shifting breeze, flashes of gold and red flickering against the darker canopy. Satisfied it wouldn’t fall, he pushed off the branch with a powerful beat of his wings.
The descent was short and controlled, feathers cutting through the cool air before he settled lightly on the ground near Nova. In a smooth ripple of bone and muscle he shifted back, feathers folding inward as his human form returned. “Looks good up there.” he said, grinning. He admired their work from the vantage point on the ground. The longer they lingered beneath the enormous trunk, though, the more aware he became of the Mathair's presence again. Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight before turning slightly away from the trunk.
“So…” he said casually, gesturing toward the deeper forest, “we should probably go see more of the Greatwood while we’re here, right?”
