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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!
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
Long fingers slip from around the butcher’s wrist to the back his hand, gently squeezing before shifting just enough that Asta might roll onto his back if he wants to, leaving Danta propped on an elbow to gaze down at him. He tilts his head as the other Ancient begins to speak, only to find his train of thought immediately interrupted by a sneeze, and Danta is biting hard at the inside of his cheek not to laugh.
Instead he reaches out to carefully pluck the feathers away from Asta’s beard and face, brushing them - and swiping the ruined pillow at the same time - off the bed entirely. There are plenty of others, after all. ”I think I had better stop getting feather pillows,” he says in a low voice still pitched with amusement. ”Anyway, you were saying?”
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
It’s a different sense of feeling like he might suffocate – only because each time he tries to open his mouth to breathe or take an inhale, another one of those stupid feathers comes diving right in. At least, it doesn’t last, because with the offered space the butcher does twist back to lay on his spine, stubbornly trying to remove what he can for feathers, with the help of the Maverick’s more awake movements.
Sighing a touch of relief that the feathers are mostly gone from causing any issues, Astaroth turns his head toward Danta with an exhausted blink. “I didn’t mean to wake you, was what I was originally intending on saying.” He offers a touch softly, arms dropping to settle at his stomach, before he tilts a little to face Danta better. “I didn’t bite you, did I?” He still doesn’t smell any blood, but as the question leaves his lips he’s giving the blonde a good look over, one hand lifting to cup his jaw in a way he might twist Danta’s head slightly to make sure he’s free of any wounds.
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
”I would have had to have been asleep for you to wake me,” Danta says, his smile something wry and almost mischievous, as if he’d done them both a favour by having insomnia this evening. Reaching out to snag one last feather that has hidden itself behind Asta’s ear, covered by his dark hair, the Maverick twirls it idly between his fingers just as the other man reaches out to tilt his chin this way and that.
Allowing the inspection, Danta nonetheless manages a quick shake of his head. ”Not even close to me,” he assures him, smiling and turning to lean his hand into the taller Ancient’s touch, eyes closing for the briefest of moments. ”I’m sorry that today was hard.” No crows in sight, of course, but to once again stare death in the eye? That would give Danta nightmares, too.
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Ah.” Astaroth rumbles, the butcher’s dark gaze lingering on Danta even as he plucks yet another feather from around him, his gaze dropping briefly to the twirling of it before he proceeds with his inspection. “Good.” He comments after he’s satisfied with the result and the fact that Danta seemed perfectly fine – better now, than earlier, too.
His thumb strokes along the Maverick’s cheekbone once he leans into the touch, and it’s enough of a reaction that the butcher is sure nothing terrible has happened (except for the loss of feather pillows). At the admission of the day being hard, though, Astaroth’s thumb twitches where it strokes along the sharp cheekbone, before he’s trying to tug Danta down with him, peering over the blonde’s diamond horns and sleep tousled curls toward the closed door. “It isn’t your fault, darling.” He offers quietly, listening to the crackling of the fireplace to soothe any lingering pieces of the nightmare. “It is never easy to come face to face with ones own mortality.” At least this time he didn’t have the actual bleeding wounds and days of suffering. But in place of that, it had been one swipe and the entirety of his insides had felt like gelatin. “I am sorry that it was hard for you, too.”
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
Having been shamelessly leaning into the touch of the butcher’s hands, Danta is somewhat startled as he’s suddenly drawn back down into the bed and the other man’s chest. He goes without a fight, though, lips pressed to the space just above Asta’s collarbone where he might feel the dull thud of his pulse, arms looping around his waist to keep him held close. ”It doesn’t have to be my fault for me to be sorry,” he points out, his tone as blasé as it is quietly stubborn. ”I'm just glad you’re okay now. That’s something I wasn’t able to feel earlier.”
Things like gratitude and relief had been second to panic and preemptive grieving, but now that enough time has passed for Danta to be surreptitiously monitoring Asta’s breathing in his sleep (which is a completely normal and not at all a paranoid thing to do, thank you), he can feel it properly.
”It all just felt very quick,” he mumbles. ”One second you were there, and the next…” Shaking his head against the side of the butcher’s neck, Danta resists the urge to rake over the details again. ”Next time I’ll stay next to you.”
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“I was full of stardust.” Astaroth teases lightly, his tone taking on a hint of amusement in the face of the tough topic and Danta’s own stubbornness. If anything, the butcher feels more like himself right now, too, awoken from a nightmare, tended to gently by Danta – all things which would not have happened back in the Climb, nor would it have happened had he actually not been okay.
For now, though, as Danta settles in and his head presses into his chest and lips find the space above his collarbone, the butcher’s head tilts into Danta’s just enough to hear the mumbling tones. “So that we both go flying when a sentient tree decides to take us out?” He asks in a rumbling tone that seems to suggest that might not be a good idea. But a thought occurs to him, a reminder of how they fought together, and he shifts a little where Danta has made himself comfortable. “Mmmn, well... We do make quite a team when we’re on the same page.” Comes the surprising acquiesce, as he noses his way in to nudging Danta’s face up to press a kiss to his temple, arms tightening around him for a fraction of a second. “I'll allow it.”
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
”Better we die together than not,” Danta mutters into the side of Asta’s neck, meaning every word and scowling as he realises they’ve slipped past his lips so easily. ”Besides, it would be a softer landing for at least one of us if we were both thrown around.” Assuming they landed together in a heap, which is the image flashing through the Maverick’s mind.
Shifting to angle his head up at the butcher’s insistence, it’s a strange and yet welcome thing to feel the warmth of a kiss pressed to his temple. Quite when casual affection had turned into this he doesn’t know, but gods, he’ll lose his mind if he examines it too closely, and he simultaneously doesn’t want to go without it either. So Danta takes it as given, responding in kind with gentle fingers that map across Asta’s lower back, following the fading pathways of his scars.
”How gracious of you,” he purrs, the faintest flicker of a smile curling against the other man’s throat. ”You and I will have to train again soon, see how far we have come.” Not tonight, though, or tomorrow, or even the next day. Danta doesn’t want to invite further drama into his life unless absolutely necessary. (If only he knew what was to come).
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Better we die together than not, is that so Danta?
Hearing the comment and choosing carefully not to respond to it, the butcher simply tucks it away for later. Humming a soft note of agreement that it would be a softer landing — mildly, honestly. Both of them are rather lanky and bony, it might not be the softest landing either one of them had felt. “Probably true.” He mutters as he starts to nose his face into Danta’s space, if only so he can press a kiss to his temple.
The gentle touch is rewarded with the Maverick’s own along the network of scars on his back and spine, something that helps lull the butcher back into comfort and content, even as a snort leaves his lips and he nuzzles his face in more comfortably. “Perhaps we should try a training session together against some of the guards? We could practice our teamwork.” He suggests, equally not inclined to get up to do anything of the sort right this second, not when he’s as comfortable as he can be.
A plan for later, after obligations and other potential disasters.
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
"That's a good idea," Danta agrees, though in reality he might well have agreed to anything the butcher suggested, providing it happened some time in the future. Here and now in the middle of the night, with sleep disturbed for both of them once again, there's nothing he desires beyond the four posts of the bed and the arms curled around him. Well, almost nothing.
"Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?" he asks off-handedly; mainly because the Maverick knows he'll not find rest for the remainder of the evening, and if the same is true for Asta, they might as well get up and have a drink or sit before the fire. It beat staring up at the canopy overhead, waiting for the sun to rise.
However the butcher responds, Danta's fingers continue to make slow passes across olive skin and scar tissue, slipping around to walk up the ladder of Asta's ribs and come to a rest against the hollow of his throat. "You know, I think that was the first wicker woman I'd ever seen." And a void touched one at that.
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
An agreement is an agreement regardless, and the butcher sinks into the bed a bit easier as Danta’s fingers run across his skin and ribs, as Asta’s own hand draws idle designs against the Maverick’s spine, ghosting over scars he’d placed years and years ago. “Quite unlikely for now.” He says with a soft sigh, as if he wanted nothing more than that, only to find it slipping through his grip. Between the nightmare and the small amount of sleep he did get, he feels as if he’s almost buzzing.
With Danta’s fingers lightly pressed against the hollow of his throat, the blonde Ancient would feel the vibration as well as hear it when his voice rumbles “That was the first one I’ve seen.” He admits, nose wrinkling in distaste before his head tilts toward Danta. “I think I would be content never seeing another again.” Perhaps the void-less ones were less shitty, but something tells him they’re both equally as bad, if only for other reasons.
“I would also be content with a cup of tea.” Letting his dark gaze scan Danta’s face for his reaction, he starts to shift slightly to sit up.
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
"You and me both," Danta says of their encounter with the wicker woman, brows furrowing as the labyrinth of her roots and canopy of her branches flashes once more behind his eyes. Only as his memory replays the way one of the boughs had slammed into Astaroth - gods, the sound as it had connected - does he suddenly shake himself off and sit up, as if the movement might be able to dispel the train of thought. "Tea it is," he confirms, and though it's surprisingly difficult to peel himself away from the other man, Danta does slip out of bed, scrubbing a hand across his face.
He doesn't have the same fancy tea set that the butcher had procured for himself a season past, but there's a kettle, tea, and functional enough cups to accomplish what they need. Once he's prepared everything and set the kettle over the fire to boil the water, he shuffles back to sink down onto the couch, one knee drawn towards his chest, his tail flicking restlessly down by his ankle.
"Sounds like the Dusklight is still having a great time," he mumbles, head flopped back against the sofa cushion; it's faint, but music and voices can still be heard somewhere beneath them on the main floor. "Good for them."
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Astaroth has done a very good job of not thinking about the way it had sounded, the blinding searing pain as it collided with his body, the whimper of his fyrhund shift as it went soaring past into a heap by its complex root structure. And he fully intends on trying to keep it that way — not wanting to taint the fact he was still alive by another goddess’ doing, tea seems like the next best thing to focus on.
It has the unfortunate side effect of the Maverick departing his embrace, though, so as Danta sits up and starts preparing the tea, the butcher slowly peels himself up as well, running hands through his hair to rid him of any lingering feathers, watching as a few of them float down to the surface of the bed.
Only then does he get up, joining the Theocrat on the sofa, far less curled up in the way he leans back, arm draped against the back where Danta sits, his head tilting curiously toward him. “They usually do.” He reassures him gently, his tail flicking up to brush gently against the other Ancient’s leg. “Are you hungry? Can I procure something for us?” He asks, head tilting slightly as his dark gaze scans Danta, a touch calculating.
all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach
Relaxing further as Asta comes to sink down beside him, Danta unconsciously turns himself towards the other man, making it easier for his arm to slip around him should it happen to do so (whether by accident or on purpose). He hums his agreement and nods, letting the rumble of voices and music from beneath them fade into the periphery of his attention, instead keeping an ear sharp for the kettle.
"Hm? No, I'm alright," he says, shaking his head easily enough at the offer of food, only to glance across to Asta in time to notice the intensity of his stare. "You can feel free to get something for yourself," he adds, slipping off the couch as the steam rising from the kettle sets it to whistling, Danta grabbing it with both hands and kneeling briefly to pour their tea.
Once he's got it arranged in two mismatched cups (for shame, he knows), he drops back to sit with the butcher a second time, offering one of them out for him. "I added a generous amount of honey," he says preemptively.
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
He debates whether or not the Maverick is alright, even as he lets the statement leave his lips. His fingertips trail along the edge of a pale shoulder, a ghosting touch before the blonde Ancient is standing to retrieve the kettle when it begins to whistle. He doesn’t move just yet, not until Danta returns and his dark gaze tracks him the whole way.
The mismatched cups receive no comment, even as he takes his and lifts it in a small toast with a soft smile toward Danta. “You know me so well, darling.” He hums with a sharp toothed grin before he takes a sip of the still steaming tea, relishing in delight at the sweetness. “I think you should invest in room service buttons.” He drawls, arm winding back around Danta to pull him in. “What do you think?”
