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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!
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
A gift.
Don't get Fox wrong - he always wants to shower Kiada in presents. He's just a very... salt of the earth kind of guy, more prone to cooking good food or giving her the gift of his time and attention (all of it, all night if he has it his way) than surprising her with gems or clothes or other material items.
But he's promised to get out to the Inner Quarter more, and their wedding is reaching the impending stage rather than feeling like some fluttering excitement on the distant horizon. And above all that... he wants to get her something.
So the hunter finds himself in The Last Whisper, the collar of his coat turned up and his hands covered in fur-lined gloves as he meanders through the boutiques to find what he's looking for. He knows what he wants to get, he just hasn't been shopping in longer than he cares to remember, especially alone. And from the rough look of him, outdoorsy even at a glance, and hazel eyes flicking from window to window, it doesn't take much for him to appear out of his depth.
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
Ah, he too is out looking for a gift. And after passing by someone for the third time – at the very least – the butcher catches the other man’s reflection in the glass and he can’t help but to note a certain feeling that this particular stranger may be lost. Unlike when he’d mentioned it to a certain demigod in the weeks prior, this time there’s no malice and nothing but a helpful hand from a certain tall Ancient, proudly boasting every inch of his ancientness with the horns that make him taller, pronged and sharp and dark nestled amongst neatly combed back hair.
He's also bundled up, but in fine layers of wool, a deep orange and red scarf tucked in against his chest, peeking out from beneath the wool herringbone overcoat that goes down to just past his knee. He looks positively warm and comfortable as he announces his initial question.
“Is there something in particular you are searching for that you are not sure where to start?” The butcher asks, head tilting slightly. He thinks he may have seen him at the ball last Deepfrost, and the longer he thinks about it the more something clicks in his mind and his sharp shark toothed smile widens in recognition. “Ah, are you Fox, by chance?” Putting two and two together by Kiada solely, if he’s mistaken, well… Sue him.
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
Lost is one way to put it, Fox's brow furrowing and his gloved hands sliding into the pockets of his thick coat as he commits to one boutique in particular - only for a shadow to fall across him. It would be insulting to Ancients to say that it's Asta's racial characteristics that have a shiver of unease locking the hunter's spine - his own horns are on full display, after all, protruding through his mussed, chestnut hair, his tail swaying low at his heels as well.
But there's something that has his jaw tightening despite the other man's impeccable dress and polite charm (it's because he's a monster and you're a monster hunter, Fox, don't be coy) and he glances up to the stranger especially as his own name falls from his lips. "I am, yes," he rumbles, politely enough. "Do we know each other...?"
As for what he's looking for, he clears his throat and nods to the window before them. "A satchel," he says quietly. "I was going to see a leather worker about one, I think. I can't find anything in the displays that fits what I'm looking for."
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
“Not exactly, no.” He hums, leaning back slightly to adjust his posture back to being prim and proper as he inclines his head. “I know Kiada. Congratulations, by the way, on your upcoming nuptials.” It’s a thickly accented velveteen purr before his dark eyes light up slightly to hear what it is he’s looking for.
Grin broadening slightly to hear he’s in need of a leather worker, Astaroth’s gaze flits from the shorter Ancient before him to glance down the Last Whisper as if ensuring someone’s light is on ensuring they’re open. “Perhaps I may be able to help, my dear. I know of a leather worker down the way that may be willing to take a custom order, if that suits your preferences better?” Shifting slightly, his tail weaves behind him comfortably and idly like a cat as he gestures down the alley path for Fox to see for himself.
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
"Ah," Fox says; a vague utterance that hides his unease at the fact that the tall man apparently knows Kiada. And knows that they are getting married. Meaning he's probably going to be present at their wedding in some capacity. Hooray. "Oh - thank you," he manages at least, offering a polite nod. "I didn't catch your name...?" Because he hadn't given it, but he leaves that part out, shifting a touch to stop his toes going numb from standing in the cold street.
I am not your dear he might have said were the other man not being so infuriatingly pleasant, Fox instead peering towards where he gestures and the light on at a boutique down a suspiciously deserted skinny alleyway. "I..." Wanting to say no because, yes, he's quite unnerved in the stranger's presence, but equally never wanting to be seen as such, the hunter nods.
"That would be great, actually. Thanks - lead the way." So, you know, he doesn't end up with a knife in his back.
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
You bet your sweet bippy he’ll be at that wedding, Fox. “It’s Astaroth.” He offers, a thick accented rumble as he bends slightly so he can bow his official greeting to the monster hunter. “People often call me Asta, however.” He keeps that charming, easy grin on his face as he stands back to his full height to mention the leather worker down the alley.
His dark gaze sweeps back over to the monster hunter, taking in the apprehension — and my, it was always a good time setting someone on edge, only for it to result in something quite lackluster. Just as this would be when he walks away with his custom leather satchel.
Turning to face the alley, the butcher begins the strides it takes to get to the leather worker’s shop, opening the door and holding it open for Fox to enter first, the bell chiming as they drift in after. “Good afternoon, Meliar, darling!” He calls out to the leather worker down the darkened shop interior. The man, short and somewhat round with a bright grin of greeting pops up from the back, trying not to rush as he makes his way to the counter. “What’re you lookin’ for today, Asta?” His voice is a deep rumble and impossibly warm. “Alas, it is not for me this time, though I shall browse what you already have on display. I have, in fact, found you a customer, provided you have time?” He steps back, allowing Fox to take the lead.
Meliar looks to Fox with that same bright warmth, eager to hear. “I do, as a matter’ve’fact, whatcha lookin’ for?”
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
"Asta," he repeats with a quiet nod, committing the name to memory for more reasons than just manners, before setting off after the taller man to make his way to his doom the leather worker's shop. Luckily the cold makes him fairly stiff shouldered anyway, so he doesn't look apprehensive as the door is held open for him so much as he just seems chilly, and he nods again and ducks inside.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't half expecting Asta to bludgeon him with his cane when his back is turned, but as his accented voice rings out, all familiar charm and endearment, Fox finds himself biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to figure him out. It's a good thing that Meliar appears to distract him, in truth, because we all know he won't like what he finds out if he keeps digging.
Clearing his throat, he does settle at the sight of the leather worker, put at ease by the man's warmth and friendliness, and he steps up to the counter to describe what he's after; a satchel in dark leather, hardy enough to keep its shape but not too stiff, capable of holding books and papers and stationary. "If you have anything like that pre-made, I'm more than happy to see it as well. I wouldn't want to cause you more work than necessary."
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
If anyone could relax any potential ruffled feathers, the butcher is fairly confident it’s Meliar. As such, he steps back and allows for Fox to explain what he’s looking for, distracting himself with the wares already on display – leafing through a few varying leather bags, one that almost looks like a backpack, down to the smaller more day to day trinkets.
Meliar keeps his smile on full display, nodding his head a bit excitedly to hear what he’s looking for before he clasps his hands together. “Think I do, actually. Might need’ta dye it darker but that’s pretty easy peasy.” There’s a bit of muttering to himself as he steps away from the counter toward the din of where he’s kept his stock of things – returning a few short minutes later with a bag in hand that’s almost precisely what Fox is looking for.
A lovely little satchel in tan leather, wide and formed to retain its shape with little designs on the outside of the flap that goes over it, both cut into the leather and embroidered. It almost looks like feathers if one looks close enough. “Could dye this one darker if’ya think it could work? Or.. I do have some leather I could do a custom one but it’ll take me a couple’ve days.” The options are laid out for Fox to decide from, all while the butcher remains behind him in the expanse of the rest of the shop, perusing.
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
Relaxing further by degrees as the leather worker's shop appears to be just that - and Meliar's obvious approval of Astaroth also serves to smooth down those ruffled feathers - Fox lets out breath he hasn't realised he's been holding, his posture becoming easier. And his hazel eyes light up at the sight of the tan satchel, the hunter nodding approvingly and looking the item over. "No - I think this would be perfect," he intones with a smile.
"If you could dye it darker that would be great. Oh - and would you be able to embroider something else on it, too?" Only something small, as it happens: initials. KS to be precise.
Glancing back to Asta as he realises the other man is still keeping his distance to peruse the wares on display, his smile is easier as he nods to him. "Thanks," he says, "this place is a real find. I hope I didn't interrupt your day too much."
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
Meliar practically beams when Fox agrees to the satchel in question, nodding excitedly at the prospect of dying it darker and embroidering something onto it – the KS quickly scribbled down on some parchment to ensure that he wouldn’t mess it up (he’d found it was easier to write it down even if it were a simple thing given that his mind’s gotten a bit fuzzier as the years went on). “Easy. Give me a few minutes t’get it dyed ‘n I’ll embroider it in a lighter thread so it’s easy t’see.” Comes the agreement, before he’s pulling the satchel back to set it on a wooden saddle that looks like a space he often placed his goods to dye them darker, then begins rummaging through for the darker dye and the brushes to dye it.
While he works, Astaroth peruses the goods, having picket up a dark, red hued leather that’s in the shape of a rectangle, flattened at the bottom but open at the top. A thought occurs to him as his fingers trace over the flat portion on the inside when Fox’s voice reaches him and he glances up, letting his dark gaze flit back toward the Monster Hunter with his usual smile returning to his face. “Of course, my dear. You did not intrude at all. If you had I would not have offered my help.” He flashes a playful wink before he decides to select the leather valet tray. “Meliar does beautiful work, I have quite a collection from him myself.” And he was proud of each and every piece he had.
“Might I assume the gift may be for our brilliant Registrar?” He asks as he comes a touch closer, accented voice dropping to a whisper so as to not let the man working at the counter hear.
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
Surrendering the find back to Meliar, with the instructions given and received, Fox watches with curiosity for a few moments as the leatherworker prepares the satchel and gets out his dyes. "Thank you. I'm a hunter by trade, so if you like I can provide more pelts or furs as payments." He smiles before turning from the counter; he doesn't particularly like to do anything with an audience, so it seems rude to simply wait and stare.
As Asta approaches, tall and regal and charming all over again, this time Fox seems a little less on edge at least, glancing to the small piece of leather in his hands. "I would never have thought to come down here," he agrees, giving a small smile to the other Ancient and nodding at his question. "It is, yes. She often has to write quite a bit of correspondence, so I thought it would be easier to have something to carry everything in."
He glances to a shelf with a few leatherbound, blank journals stacked upon it, reaching out for one to flick through. "Perhaps this as well," he murmurs. "So she can write her own notes and letters. Are you shopping for yourself or someone else?"
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
“My ol’ lady would love some new pelts, actually.” Meliar says with a grin as he starts getting to work. “We can figure out all the details when ‘m done gettin’ this ready for ya.” Which frees them both up so he can get to work and Fox can busy himself waiting with the leather workers most pleased customer.
As such, the butcher keeps the valet tray in his hand as Fox returns to him, humming a soft chuckle at the admission. “It is a little ways off the beaten path, but a gem nonetheless.” He says, tail flicking with a touch of pride before he settles in to hear if he has guessed right. And when he has, his sharp grin widens a fraction. A bit of bragging rights, he supposes, if he had anyone around to brag to. Perhaps it’ll be a subject of conversation with Danta later. “She has done a phenomenal job keeping the office organized. I am sure she will adore it.” Though, he imagines he doesn’t know the harpy as well as the fiancé standing before him, but the admission might help any worries.
Dark eyes track the movement to the notebook with glimmering agreement on the heels of it, before he’s looking back to the leather tray in his hands. “A perfect addition.” Wholehearted agreement before he speaks on himself, letting the warmth radiate from him. “I am shopping for my partner, actually.” A hint of pride with that, as well, as if Fox is the first person he’s outright told that hasn’t just assumed. “He wears plenty of jewelry, you see.” And while the cobbled back together ring holder he’d made was great, he imagines Danta would appreciate another addition to place his jewelry that wouldn’t otherwise fit on the tines of the ring holder.
I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
Smiling across to Meliar but not opting to interrupt him again, Fox gives his full attention to Astaroth once more. And despite still feeling that unease - that overwhelming sensation that he stands not before a man but a monster - the butcher's actions have only matched his gilded words so far, and he has no choice but to find himself a fraction more comfortable in his presence. "I hope so," he says of the satchel that makes up the bulk of Kiada's gift, before he reaches forward to select one of the soft, leatherbound journals as an extra addition, setting it on Meliar's counter.
"Oh?" Fox doesn't know why it's surprising to hear that Asta has a partner, but his eyebrows raise a touch. The statement seems to make him more real, coupled with the soft pride in his voice and the delicately crafted valet tray in his hands. "A very thoughtful gift," he agrees, another smile on his face without permission. "You don't have to wait for my item to be finished, by the way. I wouldn't want to keep you from the rest of your day."
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
The surprise is one he does somewhat expect, given the nature of things and how the monster hunter had reacted to his sharp teeth. But it’s a spark of pride for the butcher nonetheless, one he almost seems to puff up at more. “Thank you. I thought so as well.” As he had complimented Fox’s gift with the hopes it would make him more certain in his choice, it has the same effect on the taller Ancient.
With the next statement, he hums a soft laugh and shakes his head, loosening a strand of dark hair from being tucked behind his horn to fall into his face. Something he rectifies quickly. “Ah, do not worry, my dear. I intend on having it personalized. I am happy to wait.” He drawls contently, tucking the valet tray into the crook of his elbow alongside the silver and bronze bladed cane.
It’s about this time that Meliar is gesturing for Fox to approach, a rumbling “Aaaalright, think ‘ve just about got it!” And as Fox approaches, he’ll see the dark dyed satchel, hues of red darkening the original tan hues to make it an almost cherry wood coloring, and a bright KS adorned on the corner of it. “Whatcha think?”
