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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!
It's as good an answer as anything Flora might have expected, and it keeps her hand from slapping him clean across the face. "You are the stupidest person I've ever met." The queen mumbles, and whether she's talking to the Maverick or to herself they're both likely too drunk to figure out.
Tears want to well in her eyes but thanks to the booze she's far too dehydrated for that, and as Danta pushes himself away from the wall and moves to the door Flora finds herself following. Her entire body feels numb, the sound of the music now rushing toward them through the open door, far too loud. "Okay." Drugs sounded good, right?
Right?
Feeling the floor begin to slip out from beneath her as emotions—basically every single one of them once—clawed their way up the back of her throat, balling there in a tangle that was hard to breathe around. "Here—" Pushing the baggie of powder into the Maverick's hands, the queen flashes him an overly bright smile.
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
It feels like it’s simultaneously been minutes and hours that the pair have been gone — two songs have played and the third has the butcher’s movements shifting ever so much. It isn’t so much an upbeat song anymore as it is something soulful. Blissfully unaware how that might affect Flora and Danta as they return (or himself), he’s spun with the partner of the whiskey bottle and comes face to face with them trickling out from behind the bar.
His grin is too bright and his balance is so gone, that it takes his tail snapping out to catch the center pillar of a table to keep him upright. “Danta! Flora!” He chimes, his accent thicker here with the whiskey he’s been nursing while they’ve been gone, aptly calling out the faces he sees as they come into view.
Abandoning dancing alone, the butcher leans heavily against one of the tables he’d moved out of the way to make space, before he’s pushing off of it to approach them, his steps a bit swayed. “Welcome back my darlings!” Whatever revelations the two of them had come to, the butcher isn’t privy to, he simply is happy to have them back. One warm hand reaches for Danta’s shoulder while the other snags around Flora’s waist, pulling them in for a group hug of sorts (which goes to show how drunk he is that he doesn’t even think twice about his actions, he just does them).
“There was a song... while you all were gone. It mentioned Whitebrim! In a bad way, obviously, but it was also amusing, because he was also surprisingly accurate.” He withdraws from the hug to flash them each a too sharp grin, clearly entertained by the fact he’s managed to pluck out that one line of lyrics in the song. The grin is aimed at Danta, because the Maverick knows — and he’s too drunk to realize he hasn’t told Flora where precisely he’s from, so his hand lifts toward her to cup her cheek gently, his gaze focusing heavily on her aqua ones for a split second. “Is it… awful… to be both relieved by that and a tiny bit sad? That it’s gone?”
Apparently Asta is also in his feelings a bit, even if it were for an entirely different reason.
"You haven't met the guy out there, then," Danta manages to quip back, surprised at his own wit - and he stands by it too. Asta is dumb as a fucking stick, especially based on his recent decision-making skills. Unaware of the box of frogs he's unintentionally opened (and honestly feeling much better after talking to Flora, proving she is in fact the wisest among them), the Maverick accepts the little baggie of powder and trills his gratitude as he heads right for the bar to take some.
He's just smoothly snorted a line of it when his name hits the air, Asta approaching with a kaleidoscopic halo whirling about him - in Danta's view, anyway - before they're being squashed into a clumsy group hug, and the Maverick is left reeling all over again from the sudden warmth of the bodies around him and the faint scent of cherries and chocolate mingling with the whiskey in the air.
"About Whitebrim?" he blinks, pupils wide and making his eyes near black in the dim light of the bar. "Did it mention you?" Grinning lopsidedly back at the butcher, it's with surprising ease this time that Danta battles to slip out of the tangle of arms so he might treat himself to another well-deserved bump of snapdragon.
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
The three of them seem to just be passing their emotions around: now Flora is the sad one, Asta the chipper one (for the moment, anyway), and Danta the one just coasting on the alcohol.
Flora, who wasn't in love with the butcher, would have been wise to just bow out. A girlish crush and a handful of dates were nothing compared to love, but...gods, how was she meant to just walk away from a man like Astaroth? For all the things she didn't know about him, she knew enough to want to know more and for all of her 21 years, she wasn't so naive to think it would all be sunshine and roses. She'd seen his teeth, his scars, the line he walked and the ramifications of straying too far from it; that didn't come from having a history that was filled with roses. It was why she wanted to spoil him with her abilities, to lean into a relationship of levity and ease if only because that seemed the sort of thing which had never been in his reach. And gods, he was so kind and polite and mature in a way neither Jack nor Koa were, and foolishly—all the moreso now—Flora had thought that whatever came of their relationship, even if it didn't work out, that she wouldn't feel broken at the end of it.
That she wouldn't feel used or unwanted.
Do we all see the irony now?
Tugged by the butcher against his side and coincidentally smushed against Danta as well, the queen hiccups a small laugh before Asta is cupping her cheek and lifting her gaze up to meet his. The dark mahogany of his eyes has Flora's breath catching in her throat and as her gaze slips for a moment to his mouth, she realizes she'll probably never kiss his lips again. "No, of course not." She hums softly, giving her head a little shake.
Slipping away from the butcher, Flora also goes to help herself to something; not snapdragon, but a shot of basically pure alcohol flavoured with a few juniper berries. Hissing at the taste before letting her head loll back as the burn helps to clear away the tangle of emotions in the back of her throat, the queen sips in a deep breath before lowering her chin and hopping up onto the bar. "Danta babe, can you sing?"
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
Clumsy as he might be, he’s gotten them both to press in for a hug, even if he’s jostled Danta away from his drugs and taken Flora by surprise with the gentle cup of her cheek. And then, before a moment even seems like it’s passing, both the Maverick and the Doubletake are bowing out of his embrace. Releasing them both, Asta focuses on Danta for the question, though. “No.” He says as if realizing that there likely weren’t any songs about him anymore.
Beaming a smile to Flora at her answer, though, the butcher then turns to lean on the bar — looking back out toward the little makeshift dance floor he’d managed to create while the two of them had been gone. “A song about me would probably not be a very good song to dance to.” Unless they were into dark, brash, brutal music. (Where are the metal lovers of Caido? They’d probably know a song or two about the butcher).
Focusing more on Danta with the question from Flora as she hops up onto the bar, his tail wags a little in curiosity. “Can you?” Dark eyes glitter with mischief and amusement, trying to recall through hazy thoughts whether or not he’s ever heard Danta sing.
"All the more reason to get people to start singin' about you again now," Danta chirps from over at the bar. Insert that GIF of Jaskier screaming on his lute. As for the Maverick's vocal proclivities, he straightens up, blinking and wiping at his nose before beaming between the two of them. "I don't know," he says cheerfully, dusting off his hands and swanning out towards the dancefloor, the stage and the karaoke machine.
"Shall we find out?" Evidently it's Danta's turn to have no idea what's going on or whether everyone's okay (or in danger), and with the drugs in his system and the words no longer burning, unsaid, on his tongue, he's free to his own shenanigans once more.
What he chooses is some ballad or another he's heard in the Dusklight - one with both male and female vocals, naturally. And whilst Danta's voice isn't half bad (though he's got none of the sultry tones or rich accent that Asta can boast) it's some what ruined(? made better?) by his attempts to sing both vocals. Add in the fact that he has to make up the lyrics because he only knows the tune, and he'd be a drunken tavern's wet dream.
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Feeling like she was on pins and needles—had Danta actually said that Asta was in love with him too, or...or had he just..?—but she can't remember. Maybe Asta wasn't just using her; maybe Danta was wrong. A shimmer of hope races down the Doubletake's spine as she glances at the butcher, her lips curled into a half smile. "There were songs about you?" She wonders, again feeling herself tugged by his charm and the dark richness of his past.
Listening as Danta started, Flora laughed at the ancient's rather bold choice of song, before glancing over her shoulder toward Asta to see what he might be making of it. Would the Maverick's singing steal his breath away the way it had stolen hers when it had been Asta singing?
'Do you want anything else to drink?' The queen asks, her voice sounding somewhat tinny and timid to her own ears, but maybe that just had to do with the music braying from the speakers.
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
“A few actually.” Astaroth boasts, almost proudly, flashing a grin toward Flora as he shifts to lean against the bar right beside where she sits. “I was known as the Butcher of Whitebrim.” Still not realizing that he hasn’t told her where he’s from, he simply flashes her a drunkenly crooked smile. “There were more stories than songs, alas.” He laments, until Danta’s voice picks up.
It doesn’t entirely captivate him the way his singing had captivated Flora, but it does drag his attention away to watch the Maverick on the stage, his smile twisting a touch softer, a soft huff of a laugh leaving him when he tries to sing both parts. To hear that he can sing is somehow both charming and sweet, yet another feeling the butcher isn’t sure how to place.
The drink offer has him pulling his gaze away to look up at her, horned head tilting slightly. “Something sweet?” He asks, like she hasn’t been just indulging his sweet tooth the entire night so far. But, he shifts to hop up onto the bar and slip behind it with her. “You have made me plenty, though. Let me help.” Or she can tell him the instructions and he can fumble around and figure it out.
Either way, it puts them close enough together for anything else that may be on her mind, whether or not he’s able to answer them.
"Mmmmmm, so you've said." The queen purrs, momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to be upset with him and instead feeling inclined to simply lay down across the bar in order to curl around him as he leans so rogushly against it.
..Whitebrim though...that was...
Before the thought can take hold—Halo, cannibalism—Danta is singing and suddenly Flora remembers herself. Eyeing the butcher carefully, though he certainly stared at Danta fondly, it wasn't with the open-mouthed sort of wonder that would have confirmed the suspicion trying to build itself into more than it was in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn't nothing, either.
"As if I'd offer you anything else." Flora hums slyly, before leaning back as the butcher rather lithely makes his way onto the bar and then over it. Had anyone else done that she might have scolded them for it, but as Asta had helped her rebuild the entire place, she supposed he had as much right as she did to treat it like his own. "First that one—" She points at a bottle of something clear with red flowers on the label. "Half, and then....that one." Pointing to a simple syrup with a cherry on it, the queen nods. "Then that one.' The final element was something dark and syrupy which would immediately hit the butcher's nose with an alcoholic punch of sweet berry.
"Hey..." Unlike either Danta or Asta, Flora was not as inclined to mince words or just let things go, and so with the butcher relatively contained behind the bar, the queen makes the most of it. "Can I ask you something? And I need you to answer me honestly. Do you think you can do that?"
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
Flashing her a bright grin in response as Danta’s voice croons around them and he settles on the other side of the bar, reaching for the bottles she indicates. Pouring the clear bottle first, then the one embellished with a cherry — the bright scent vibrant and sparking a hum of content from him as he tops it with the dark syrupy one that absolutely invades his nose, his tail flicking with delight as he turns to Flora with that same grin and holds up the glass in a little mock cheer.
The smile falters slightly at her question and the seriousness of it, horned head tilting slightly. He cradles the drink as he steps a little closer toward her, as if it might make it easier to hear her and understand what kind of level this conversation was going to land on. “I will try my best, darling. I am… very inebriated.” He says with an apologetic smile, but he settles and focuses on her to hear her words, still not taking a sip of the drink just yet.
Flora tries her best to keep her smile in place as Asta presents his cocktail, but it fades almost immediately as her gaze finds his. Would she ever look into his eyes the way she was now? Mere acquiantences did not track the strands of gold or ochre in each other's eyes, didn't measure their amusement by the number of laugh lines by their lips, didn't know how much pressure it took for their teeth to break their skin. Perhaps she should have slipped from the bar and pressed herself against him for one last hug, if only to feel his arms around her the way she had before, only...she'd started this, and she was going to see it through.
Reaching out for him, with Flora perched on the bar for once she's the one with the advantage of height, which was probably for the best if only because she could partially block Danta from view. Leaning forward the queen smoothes her palms against the butcher's cheeks, spreading her knees if only to draw him closeer but not close. Not against her. A smile tugs at one corner of her mouth, though it doesn't reach her eyes despite how they sparkle and dance thanks to the alcohol still bright and reckless in her system.
"Asta..." Her thumbs softly smooth down the skin beside his nose and above his lips, pushing the course hair of his beard into place. "..do you love him?" Flora's tone is soft, gentle, as are her hands upon his skin. Her eyes though, her eyes seem to suggest that she already knows the answer, and gods though she'd be happy this time to have her bluff called, she doesn't think the butcher will.
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
As she reaches out for him, he moves precisely where she wants him, settling in front of her and not against her, hands resting on the bar on either side of her, dark eyes looking up to hers as she perfectly blocks him from seeing Danta but it doesn’t keep the Maverick’s voice from crooning around them. Her hands are warm as they press gently against his cheeks, thumbs smoothing out the hard lines of wrinkles formed along his lips from a smile that nearly almost always remained (faded now with the seriousness of the conversation).
“What?” Slips from his lips in almost a whisper, confusion flaring in his dark eyes as he tries to search her aqua ones, darkened by the liquor and something else that scratches at the back of his mind in a fleeting memory, a conversation he was supposed to have. But it’s blotted out by the question she asks, his smile fully falling as he realizes he’d said he’d answer honestly.
Clearing his throat and staying perfectly still, he regards her as he tries to parse his thoughts. “I… I don’t know what love is, Flora.” Comes the honest answer, belatedly wondering whether or not she was wearing the ring that would say whether he’s lying or not. It wouldn’t flare with this answer, though, because he truly doesn’t know what it feels like. “I know that he knows everything about me, the good and the bad. And that I have done terrible things to him.” He pauses, blinking as his faded smile shifts into a flat line, pulling at the hands that cup his cheeks.
“And I can trace all of the scars I have given him. I can’t sleep well unless he’s there. If I start feeling flighty he knows exactly what to do to help so I don’t… lose it.” He pauses, dark gaze focusing on anything but Flora’s face until the comment of him losing it. “I worry about him getting hurt or put in danger.” But that isn’t love, right? That’s just being overprotective and feeling like he owes Danta for all of the terrible things he’s done in the past.
At first, it's all just sounds. They make up words that Flora understands, but none of it means anything much to the Doubletake until—
—I can’t sleep well unless he’s there.
It has something terribly cold reaching up from the pit of her stomach, wrapping icy fingers around her throat that have her wanting to gasp while also making sure there wasn't enough air to make a sound. The muscles of her stomach clench as her hands fall away from Asta's face and crumple into her lap. At some point Flora has also lowered her eyes, not wanting to see the thin line of Asta's mouth made blurry by the sheen of her tears. "But you feel like you'd die without him, right?" She asks, her voice dull, the question rhetorical. "Like if something did happen to him, you'd sell every little bit of yourself to fix it?"
She sighs, shakily.
Being sad drunk was quickly taking over, but before it could, boldly boss bitch drunk had one last card to play.
Reaching for the drink Asta had made, Flora takes it from him and downs it in one gulp. It's horribly sugary, but liquid confidence came in many forms and right now Flora didn't have the nerve to be choosey about it. Twisting away from the butcher, Flora hops off the other side of the bar and storms toward the stage, snatching the microphone away from Danta and tapping her fingers loudly against it.
"Listen up." She yells, the feedback hostile and loud from the speaker because I guess it's an 80s PA system and not magic. "Asta, Danta loves you but he's too scared to say it. Danta, Asta loves you but thinks having been a bastard to you in the past means he doesn't get to." Running her tongue along her teeth, too late for the bloom of pain to stop her tears, Flora gives her head a little shake as she shoots a bitter smile at each of them.
"Danta you're an asshole for setting us up as if it wasn't going to gnaw at you, and you—" Flora turns her stare onto Asta, her breath momentarily catching on the sob building in the back of her throat. "..are just an asshole." She manages, her voice tight and small, her cheeks flushed and hot beneath the tears that streamed down them.
Dropping the mic, Flora points at the door. "Go tell each other you love one another and get the fuck out of my bar."
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that
Danta, who has been happily warbling his ballad and shaking his ass on the stage, finds himself unceremoniously cut off as the mic is snatched from his hands, and he whirls about to blink at Flora. At first he thinks she's here to join in (which, good, because it was getting difficult to balance the two sets of vocals) and there's a cheeky grin on his face until she starts fucking talking.
Hey, no, you can't-- fights to make it past his lips, and if he weren't so stunned he might have tried to flap his hands over Flora's mouth to keep her from saying such (blatantly true) blasphemies. Instead his gaze flashes across to Asta, and whoever gave that man the audacity to still look so composed and charming whilst shitfaced needs to sit down and take a break. Swallowing hard as he realises Flora isn't just airing his dirty laundry, it's with heat in his cheeks that he drags his eyes back from the butcher.
"Flora--" He both does and does want to reach out for her as he realises she's crying, but gods if the look on her face doesn't broker room for argument. And so, slinking off the stage and rubbing at the back of his neck, of course Danta makes a very swift exit.
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
