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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!
"Weird, because I also wasn't talking to you, just now" Flora replies tersely, stepping away from Asta only enough to be visible apart from his silhouette of red cloth and olive skin. Like, eavesdrop, much? But whatever.
"Then why'd you apologize?" For a moment the queen's fingers tighten around Asta's arm, before the tension disappears as she looks up at him. "She looked right at me and said how pathetic when I walked in." Flora explains with a roll of her eyes. "And when I asked if she said something, she said sorry." Which, you know, no need to apologize if you're only talking to yourself.
Wrinkling her nose as if having just caught scent of something sour at the mention of Maea following, Flora leaned in all the closer to the man at her side. "I'm not normally one to think three's a crowd, but you seem like zero fun, so.." If the way Flora positions herself against the butcher happens to conveniently emphasize her cleavage, so what?
I want to be when you fall on me like night I wanna kill the lights
// I tried to scream but my head was underwater //
Maea's tail had wound itself tightly around a leg, hidden beneath the skirts of her dress. It untangled itself from the fabric now, coiling stiffly in reaction to Asta's snide remark, and then again when Flora responded.
Turns out, simply speaking and moving wasn't enough. Now she had to explain. But that's what she wanted, right? To make herself clear. It could hardly be more uncomfortable than taking their disdain without responding.
"I panicked," Maea simply replied, focusing on the actual questions and doingher best to ignore the insults. "I came here to be alone. When you showed up, I thought of running or hiding, rather than having to talk. That's what I was talking about. Myself, not you." Oversharing, nowthat the was talking Maea couldn't seem to stop instead. "I apologized... because I didn't know what else to say. But that only made it worse."
Her eyes flitted to Astaroth, her mouth twisting into a look of painful regret. "I've done a lot of that, lately. It's a pattern I am trying to break. I won't follow anymore. Just wanted to say, I did not intend to be rude."
It was a convoluted apology, tumbling off her tongue without nary a breath; pale hands were back to grasping the skirts again, holding on for dear life.
Maea
// They called me weak, like I'm not just somebody's daughter //
so what, my friend, whatever will it be? i can give you what you crave, just not for free
She can squeeze his arm as much as she likes for all Astaroth cares, not as explanations are offered and his tail continues its annoyed lashing, only to hear the way that Maea yet again could have prevented an issue from arising, only to let it reach this point of blow up. A typical line for her, he supposes.
He doesn’t wish to entertain it any further though, but Maea’s voice speaks up with quiet statuesque lip service that has him still there without a smile, even as he casts a glance down toward Flora with a raised brow, and if he notices the cleavage on display, he doesn’t react (he’s an oblivious man, sorry Flora). Instead, a scoff slips from his lips and his dark gaze, made black in the lowlight of the cavern to Frey’s Breath, pins right back on Maea.
“It seems to me like you have a different habit to break, Maea.” He pauses, frustrated with himself at how she gets under his skin by doing essentially nothing each and every time to do it. “A lot of not saying what you mean until after the damage has been done? Perhaps start there next time,” and unable to keep his tongue precisely silent despite the Queen at his side that’s completely out of the loop of their own personal drama, he drops another venomous comment. “Instead of projecting yourself onto others to make yourself feel better, mm?”
In Flora's mind Asta notes and appreciates her cleavage, and really that's all that matters.
"You came to a widely used hot spring to be alone? Girl..." Flora wasn't buying it, and her tone all but dripped with incredulity as she clucked her tongue. Sure the Climb itself was basically shit if you weren't an ancient, but picking the one habitable place for the other races in an effort to be alone? Girl, doubt.
"Mmk well, all of that is super weird." The queen decides at last, still not really believing the little ancient. This coming from the same woman who'd stood up to Dahlia and put the lives of all of Caido's leaders in jeopardy? That's who Flora was supposed to believe panicked and thought about running away at the sight of the Doubletake? Again, doubt.
"Come on, babe. What did you say about not letting her ruin our day?" Flora purrs up at the butcher, her fingertips pulsing suggestively against the muscles of his upper arm before giving it a little tug.
I want to be when you fall on me like night I wanna kill the lights
// I tried to scream but my head was underwater //
Apparently, the popularity of this place had not registered with Maea. It was her first time coming here, and it was abundantly clear that she wasn't the type to follow trends or do what everyone else was doing. But neither of those things mattered; a flicker of annoyance passed across her face as she glanced at Flora. But it was Asta who retained her attention, and it was to him she responded.
"I would like nothing more. You of all people should know that it's not always that easy, though, right? We don't always control what triggers us." He had panicked too - he should know first hand what she was talking about.
Looking at Flora again, Maea restrained an urge to trub her temples and groan - this was why she hadn't bothered saying anything at first. The part where she struggled, where she kept messing up. The whole trying to control people's reactions... it was as good a place to start as any. "You don't have to believe me," she said, despite the itchy feeling it gave her. "I've no doubt it must seem that way to you. But weird or not, it's the truth. Again, I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I'll leave you alone now."
To emphasize the point she took a step back, away from the bloody pond and away from the couple. A nauseous feeling in the gut kept making it hard to breathe properly, but considering the keening in her ears and her raging pulse, Maea was quite proud of herself. She was communicating. Well or poorly didn't matter right now; at least she was doing it. Her best. All that she could. If that still wasn't enough... then nothing would be.
Maea
// They called me weak, like I'm not just somebody's daughter //
so what, my friend, whatever will it be? i can give you what you crave, just not for free
He can agree with Flora easily on the fact that it was all very weird and strange, yet it’s to Maea’s pale gaze that his blackened ones find, a tension beginning to thrum under bronze skin, precisely where Flora remains wound around his arm. The pale Ancient’s voice causes him to immediately bristle, his voice dropping some of the more polite etiquette that he always harbors to drop into a more rough tone of Whitebrim (aka; the accent is thick now).
“Excuse me? You do not get to act like you know me.” He starts to say, taking a sharp inhale as if he intends to tell her precisely the ways they were different when it came to their triggers and their traumas, how he at least knew what sparked his and how he did his damndest to avoid it. It’s why he ran in the first place, not that it mattered to her when she’d followed him anyway.
Ah, but Flora’s voice is the mediator, and the second it reaches the butcher’s ears, his lips are already curled in distaste, a grimace of sharp teeth on full display that soften with the truth of what the Queen says. His shoulders relax almost immediately, his free hand lifting to press against his temple for a moment, trying to regain some of that composure.
“You are right. Let’s go.” He nearly grits out, softened by the queen’s hand on his arm, tugging him along. He doesn’t give Maea the satisfaction of looking back at her, instead his dark honeyed gaze remains focused on Flora as they walk away.
