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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!
Having stacked all of the wood already cut several days ago now with Margot, Marcus knew his father would be out cutting more. The light was nearly gone and the boy had to take a lantern with him. He clutched it tight with his gloved hand as he crunched across the snow to where he heard Noah working.
The evening air was cold enough to bite his fingers, even in gloves. Marcus hesitated at the edge of the lantern’s glow, where Noah's lantern met his own, watching his dad’s shadow rise and fall with each swing of the axe. He almost turned around. But the question had been building in his chest for days—pressing hard, like wings trying to unfurl. He was determined.
He stepped forward. “Dad?” The axe paused mid-swing, and Noah answered. Marcus swallowed. “What was it like? When you became Attuned?”
Noah swung the axe, splitting wood with careful precision. He had been working for hours now as the sun sank low on the horizon. Carefully sheltered in his Sentinel's Coat, he knew he could work a few more hours. Bt he heard the crunching snow and Vi'dore and Eira in unison brought the image of his son to him.
He paused. "Yeah, bud?" He straightened and turned to face the younger of his twins, eyebrows lifting some. When Marcus asked his question, Noah didn't quite expect it.
Noah didn’t answer right away. He just set the axe aside, slow and careful, and sat on the stump. He knew this wasn't a small question, and the weight of it gripped the botom of his throat. He took in a deep breath and brushed the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of dirt and tiny flecks of wood in the wake.
“I was about your age when it happened,” he said. “I uh, I didn’t really understand it at first. Just that something inside me opened." He pasued, again, hands coming to rest in his lap. "I wasn’t scared, and it didn't hurt...but it was different. Like finding out I had another language tucked in my bones, and suddenly I knew how to speak it.” His eyes met Marcus', his own gaze coming back up at him from his son's face. “It felt like something I’d been waiting for without knowing it.”
He knew Cordelia's experience was much the same. His throat tightened as he watched his son, waiting for his follow up questions.
Marcus shifted in the snow, as Noah paused. He swallowed hard, but as his father sat down he didn't hesitate to cross the distance between them and sit on an adjacent log. He put the lantern down at his feet, watching the light of it flicker across the snow instead of looking up at his dad right away.
“I think… if I could become Attuned, maybe she’d still be here, just a little.” His throat tightened, and he didn't know Noah's throat was doing the same. He looked up, then, vulnerable and afraid and yet so determined and brave under the same glacier eyes he held. He stared at Noah, his father, the man he admired, eyes searching. “I want to be like you, and like Mom—Attuned. I want to visit Frey."
Her herald.
The one Noah himself had chosen, before Vi chose him. The one who had advanced his age from infant to adolescent.
His voice cracked, but he held the question out, raw and real—"Can you take me?"
The demigod didn’t laugh, didn’t scoff. He merely looked at his son like he saw all the parts Marcus wasn’t sure of yet. Tenderly. Carefully. For Marcus, this meant the whole world. He knew his son, and while he was young and full of youthful impulsivity, he knew this wasn't one of those moments. This was something that the boy had thought through, long and hard, before bringing it to him.
Noah’s jaw feathered, but he let out a slow breath, the cold air misting between them. He looked down at the lantern’s flicker, then back at Marcus, sitting so small yet so fierce beside him. He shifted, resting his hands on his knees. “Frey’s a powerful herald." Then he lifted his hand and pressed it across Marcus' shoulders, drawing the boy in. "If they choose to attune you, we’ll see where this road goes. Together.”
