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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 successfully trapped and caged Erebos within his own long legs, Deimos persisted in angling more of the blackened proportions over the tide jaguar’s legs, snorting at Amhran’s statement. “It is,” by way of confirmation, and glad it was easy to tell. He wouldn’t want the painting to come off as something more abstract.
Cake as the subject matter was easy to follow too, and he laughed at the statement – as though it were a newfound goal and pursuit to simply peruse flavors throughout regions. A worthwhile one, really, and likely far better than the Sword’s simplistic ones of survival. “Ice cream cake could be easily done as well,” he winked, before establishing more Stygian lines across the length of the companion’s chest, putting thicker portions where the tufts of fur contorted together. “I have been pondering over chocolate with peanut butter frosting.” And knowing Evie, she’d want something different too. Grin becoming boyish and juvenile now, he gave another sidelong glance at Amhran, as though involving him in a plot. “We could all get different ones, then have slices of each.”
"I thought so too." Amhran grins of his ice cream cake, stretching briefly before lifting his small square of parchment and gently blowing on it to encourage it to dry. He knows better than to add more wet paint for the details before this part is finished, and luckily he's a patient sort; besides which, desserts are a topic that will happily occupy him in the meantime. "Ah, that sounds good as well," he says of Deimos's chocolate and peanut butter contribution. "I tried raspberry ripple ice cream the other day, so I think I would probably have that flavour."
And then, turning to Erebos, because it is also the youth's birthday this season, "And what would you prefer? Perhaps carrot cake, or a confetti cake? I saw one of those in the window of a bakery," he adds of the latter, glancing to Deimos and grinning. It had seemed loud for a cake, but he imagines it would taste perfectly fine. "I think that would be a good idea, yes. I will perhaps not eat too many slices at once, though." After the cotton candy at the Festival of Lights, which had seen him soar and crash in a sugar rush - and throw up on the way home.
Deimos continued to work on the base of Micah, decisive brushstrokes reaching up towards the tide jaguar’s chin and muzzle, and the tops of his ears, while laughing at the implications of ice cream and encouraging the sugary delights found anywhere and everywhere. Even with the memories of the Festival’s aftermath; perhaps even Amhran could consider it worth the unfortunate effects. “Including the crunchy chocolate layer?” Because that was one of the best parts.
Erebos had yet to have much of these things, given his age, but the infant seemed to light up as soon as his Raeling brother addressed him. At first there was a garble of speech, leaning out over the Sword’s knee and striving to come up with the impulsive answer. Eventually, it sounded much like ‘onfeti’ – so the Sword shook his head, a grin unfurling once more. “A small one,” perhaps to bypass the same circumstances the demigod encountered. “Mm. And tinier portions would do. Does not mean we have to it all of it at the party either.” Could be spread out over a few days – giving them the chance for multiple cake leftovers.
"I did not know there was an option to not have that," Amhran says, quite affronted at the idea. The raeling clearly has ideas about his ice cream - again, Halovian - and expects them to deliver, especially and particularly when in cake form.
As for Erebos and his small whatever cake he would be having, Amhran nods sagely to the infant and his garbled responses, as if perfectly understanding them. "I believe he says he would prefer a large one," he tells Deimos seriously, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Does this mean we will be eating cake for all of Deepfrost?" he wonders, sitting back towards his painting and collecting up some darker colours for details now that the parchment appears to be dry enough. "Because I do not mind that."
Deimos gave a sage nod, as if he’d experienced the sacrilege of ice cream cake without the special chocolate crunchies; especially as a personal affront. "We will make certain," he noted with every degree of seriousness, finishing off a touch of black to the tip of Micah’s nose, before moving the paintbrush down the makeshift jaguar’s spine.
Juggling and jostling the chatty Erebos made the painting go much slower, but he couldn’t up but snort as the child leaned on his knee and stared up at Amhran, deep in rational conversation. The youth gave some sort of answer in return, but most of it was in small strings of incomprehensible nuances – though quite animated, given the way the youth shook the rattle. “And yet, a small one he will be getting.” He lowered his head purposefully over the infant’s, careful not to actually bear any weight. “Keep it up, and it will only be a cupcake.”
Dipping his brush into more of the Stygian hues, the wondering made him laugh. “We could certainly try.” He wasn't going to argue over a fair amount of dessert every day.
"Thank you." Smiling and seeming satisfied with Deimos's reassurances - the Sword is a stalwart presence in his life and he knows him to be true to his word, especially when it comes to matters of snacking - Amhran turns contentedly back to his own painting. The details unfurl on the flowers with small flicks of his brush, and soon enough he's happy with the result and sets his little canvas to the side to dry off as well.
"I think, considering his size, a cupcake might not be such a bad idea." Chuckling and sitting up straight in order to stretch out his back properly after the bout of arts and crafts, he grins towards Erebos. "Though we may struggle to cut it into slices if that is the case. Would you like me to take him while you paint, by the way?" He's amazed that the Micah-in-progress hasn't had any additions from the infant yet, truthfully.
01-06-2025, 03:24 PM (This post was last modified: 01-06-2025, 03:24 PM by Deimos.)
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Deimos had calculations aplenty; and while most the time they centered around warfare, defenses, shields, protection, and security, they were often open to unfurling best ways to acquire a multitude of food. “Ah, but then we can just do a large order of cupcakes for Erebos’s portions.” Then they’d all have equal distribution, and still end up sharing. He grinned, shrugging at the possibilities, before Amhran offered snagging hold of the infant.
“If you want.” They were both quite comfortable with one another. The Sword set the paintbrush down carefully, before maneuvering the infant out of his makeshift cage of long legs and knees, prompting a giggle from the babe as he was granted and given over to the Raeling. Another delighted shout of ”Amham!” was declared with outstretched and likely sticky fingers, already making a beeline for any hair within reach.
Shaking his head, Deimos took the opportunity afforded and granted to continue painting the Stygian streaks across Micah’s frame. Were he not so patient and deliberate, he might have clattered Air incantations over the surface to ensure it dried faster, but instead he simply took painstaking moments, and only breathed a sigh of relief when the first layer was done. “Getting the colors just right is going to be interesting,” he noted, head tilting towards the ones he’d already rendered. Just how to get them to appear glowing would take some thought.
"Oh, I see." Grinning as if he's just learned some intricate life hack by being introduced to cupcake multiplication, Amhran nods and already casts his mind to other areas where it might apply. Individual cupcake ice cream cakes? Tear and share bread applied to other foods? Pizza? His thoughts are still along these lines as Erebos is offered out, the raeling beaming and reaching for him to plonk him back in his lap. "Yes, that is one of my names," he confirms to the infant, if for no other reason than because he's become accustomed to it being squealed across a room.
With soft waves of hair available for the grabbing (Amhran is not the type to recoil or complain about mess, as has been evident from the moment he pulled himself from the soil), he tilts his head towards the painting of Micah and the first layer waiting to dry. "I am sure Evie will love it however it turns out. It looks beautiful so far," he says with an encouraging smile, bouncing Erebos gently on his knee.
Cupcake math was just as important as any other multitudes, and he grinned again at Amhran’s agreeable assents. It could also be applied to all sorts; should the Raeling need any other examples or suggestions, the Sword would gladly offer explanations.
Meanwhile though, Amhran would likely become a victim of hair loss if Erebos was permitted to grab fistfuls, as he often attempted. He was very content with the tossing and bouncing though, shouting out hordes of gibberish, babbles, and gleeful squeals – before extending his rattle towards the demigod, either in giving or some other subterfuge. “Looks like a trick to me,” Deimos arched his brow and watched, whispering the granted advice when he could, but incapable of reading the infant’s mind.
As long as Amhran was content with the infant though, Deimos would continue painting. “I hope so,” he snorted; deciding to ultimately start with a mixture of greens, beginning to outline rosettes over the blackened portions, intending to layer them enough so they’d rampage through the heavier Stygian.
Only worrying about his hair when it becomes evident that Erebos means to end the afternoon with a fistful of it in his grip (and no longer attached to his skull), Amhran carefully pries it out of the infant's fingers, only to have a flailing rattle offered his way. "Mm, I have been a victim of this trick before," he confirms to Deimos, though his smile is as warm and delighted as ever. Not taking the rattle - he knows better after last time, and the time before that - nor putting himself within bonking distance of it, he instead reaches out and uses Erebos's own chunky little hand to shake it around.
"There," he declares. "I helped, but you did not have to let it go." No one has told Amhran how much the youth does or doesn't understand of the words spoken to him, and so he's thus far been treating Erebos as an otherwise mute companion who is just as capable of mischief and planning as any of them. (And is he wrong, really?)
Deimos wouldn’t readily take blame for any trickery or ruses from his son, though one might be able to see how there was ample amounts of influence throughout the house. Snorting again as Amhran admitted to being duped by the infant – the Sword had only been a victim once - he smiled as he glanced over, Erebos’ confusion evident on his features. Brows furrowed in a similar facets to his father’s, the youth gasped, then squealed once he found he didn’t particularly care, and began to wave the rattle with his own limbs and Amhran’s pulls combined.
”elp!” he exclaimed afterwards in mimicking as best he could. This incited more wiggling and squirming and laughing, before he promptly offered it to the Raeling again, but closer to the demigod’s mouth, in case he too would like a bite.
Gazing again from the corner of his eye and grimacing, he strived to concoct similar rosettes with more than just the green hues – dipping his paintbrush into a more vibrant pink, a vivid blue – tilting his head and pondering over the circumstances. “Do those look all right?"
For one who has only been a part of the properly living world for a year, Amhran is quite adept, it appears, at entertaining the youth in his arms. "Quite so," he agrees cheerfully of the 'elp, giving Erebos's little fist a vibrant shake all over again and - making sure to keep the infant's hand in his own as he does so, thank you - leans in to take a large, pretend bite of his rattle. "It is not as good as a cupcake," he tells him, his tone one of conspiracy, as if Erebos ought to hold out for the incoming sweet treats throughout the season.
Straightening up to allow Erebos to continue to squirm and babble to his heart's content, Amhran glances back to Deimos's painting and tilts his head, before offering him an encouraging smile. "More than all right," he confirms with a nod. "I think Evie will be very pleased with your creation." With all of them, honestly, and though he still needs to go and prowl through the library for further examples of her work, he's satisfied that the Evergreen will be happy with their attempts.
After putting the finishing touches on the painting, with some brighter aspects to the rosettes amidst blackened fur, Deimos figured he ought to call it decent enough – otherwise he’d spend hours speculating on perfected aspects when he already knew none existed. “Thank you,” considering the compliment and encouragement enough. Glancing back at the duo, he snorted as Amhran pretended to ‘eat’ said rattle, much to Erebos’ delight. The child giggled and squealed again, pleased that his offering had been accepted, before snagging it back in return and munching on it. “You do very well with him,” he measured towards the Raeling; the demigod likely knew it anyway, but often the Sword felt some notions were better left expressed and acknowledged.
Rising from his position on the floor, he considered all the things necessary to clean up before Evie ventured home, but more significantly, how to ensure they weren’t found. “We will have to hide these,” came along with a wry, juvenile, and boyish grin again. Certainly not their own greenhouse; she encountered that far too often. “Maybe in the barracks.”
Seeming satisfied as Erebos returns to munching on his rattle - it isn't cake but it will certainly do for now, he determines - Amhran glances back across at the sound of Deimos's voice, his smile warm and earnest in response to the compliment. "Thank you for saying so," he says. "Though I cannot imagine anyone not doing well with him. He is a delight, is he not?" Chuckling and bouncing Erebos gently on his knee, he nods his agreement at the ongoing plan and the need to hide the paintings from any excitable, prying eyes.
"I have never been to the barracks," he confesses. Not wanting to get in the way of Deimos's cleaning but also knowing better than to help with an armful of chaos, Amhran carefully scoops the infant up into his arms properly and gets to his feet so the Sword might clear away the evidence of their artistry. "Is it a good place to hide things like this, do you think? I can help take them if you need, or I can keep watching Erebos."
