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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!
07-01-2025, 10:10 AM (This post was last modified: 07-01-2025, 10:50 AM by Flora.)
flora
The Greatwood in Leafchange was all copper and gold and sweet decay, the trees shedding their summer brightness for something softer, something deeper. The air held that gentle crispness unique to the turning season, cool enough to lift her curls with each breeze, but not yet biting. Somewhere overhead, a bird chirped out a warble that sounded like it was still deciding whether to leave or stay.
Flora moved confidently along the winding path, boots crunching against fallen leaves and roots that arched like the backs of lazy cats. Last time she’d come this way, she'd been invisible, cautious, but excited for a tea date with her ghost friend. But Dahlia had found her first, all claws and fury and too much silence in her wake.
But that was before. The Family was gone now. Peace—tentative and strange though it was—held long enough for this.
She wore jeans that clung just right and a loose white tank top that fluttered with every step, the hem brushing against the waistband of her belt. Her arms were full, bags tucked against her sides and dangling from her fingers, bursting with wrapped gifts, snacks, and an assortment of activities she’d gathered like offerings. Everything picked with care, and with Niki in mind.
She reached his doorstep and exhaled once, soft but steady. Then, with the heel of her boot planted just so and a smile already tugging at her mouth, she knocked. Three sharp raps, crisp and playful. "HellooOooOOo. Any ghosts inside?"
"Unfortunately, this house has recently been exorcised. No ghosts to be seen." Niki's voice is faint behind the door, but hopefully Flora will realise that it's not necessarily because he doesn't plan to open it for her - just that it can take him a little longer than some others to get where he needs to be. Soon enough the heavy deadbolt is sliding back, though, and the boy appears in the doorway with a smile that's equal parts pleased and relieved.
"Hello, Flora," he greets, before his eyebrows raise at the armfuls of stuff she has brought with her. "Oh - please, come in. There is space on the table for you to put your things down," he explains, stepping aside so she can bustle past and into the living room, where she'll find the dining table clear for her.
Niki is back in his sweaters with the end of Longheat, though this one is quite light compared to the layers he favours in the colder seasons; wine red and frayed (burnt?) at the edge of one sleeve, it nevertheless drowns him as all his clothes do, and he tugs it back up onto his shoulder as he follows her. "How are you? Your friend Kaisel came by to explain why you missed our meeting."
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
Flora pouted at the door with theatrical dismay, shifting the bags in her arms just enough to let one hip jut out for maximum offence. "Just because you can’t see a ghost doesn’t mean they’re not here," she called back, grinning all the while. "Honestly, Niki, I expected more spiritual awareness from you."
But the moment the door opened, any teasing melted into something softer, warmer. Her smile bloomed in earnest as she caught sight of him, pale and red-sweatered and familiar in a way that made her chest ache, though she didn’t quite know why. "Hi you."
She swept past him the moment he stepped aside, swanning into the room with all the effortless grace of someone who considered herself very welcome, and immediately began unloading her cargo onto the cleared table. Once her arms were finally free, Flora turned on her heel and moved back toward Niki without pause, wrapping him up in a hug that was entirely non-negotiable. Her arms circled his back, careful of his balance but firm in her affection, and she squeezed with quiet conviction—comfort, apology, presence all wrapped into one long-held breath.
She pulled back a moment later, only far enough to meet his eyes, her hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. "I’m okay," she said, voice light and easy as if the words weren’t carrying everything. "I’m really sorry I didn’t make it last time. There was, uh—" she waved vaguely toward the woods behind her, as though the entire Greatwood were responsible—"a little mishap with Dahlia on the way."
Her smile flashed again, too bright and too casual to be real. " Just one of those things where someone tries to rip out your spine, you know?" She rolled her eyes, breezy and blithe as if she weren’t still wearing the scars. "I am sorry about," she pauses, grinning. "ghosting you."
"I do apologise. I will study up on ghouls and phantoms for your next visit, so that I do not disappoint myself again," Niki tells her solemnly, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he shuts the door after her. He's just made it in through the doorway of the living room when Flora unburdens herself and is free to commence her attack. Niki, of course, stiffens awkwardly at the unexpected hug, though his smile softens and his free hand comes around to squeeze the Doubletake in return.
"I am glad to hear it," he tells her earnestly as she steps back, though his pale eyes darken with concern at the mention of Dahlia's name. "That is not funny," he says softly. "I am sorry she hurt you, and I am glad that the Family seems to have gone for good now."
Ghosting or no ghosting - and he narrows his eyes a fraction at that, as if trying not to find it amusing - he gestures to the table. "Are you planning to stay in the Greatwood for a few... day?" Weeks, perhaps, by the number of bags?
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones, bones.
You've encountered the OG random event! This allows you to skip one levelling requirement with the character in this thread. (Unfortunately does not count for characters over level 10, how sad.)
Flora’s grin softened into something crooked and affectionate, a spark of mischief tucked into its corner. "I really do appreciate it. It's basically a dying art these days." She sniffed dramatically, though her tone was all warmth.
At the mention of Dahlia, she gave a little shrug, as if brushing off dust rather than memory. "We can compare scars later," she offered, light and teasing, but her hand drifted briefly to her side as though unconsciously recalling where one of those wounds still lingered. "But I really am sorry I didn’t show. You were the one thing I was looking forward to that whole day."
Turning toward the table as he gestured, Flora glanced at the modest mountain of supplies she’d unloaded and then back at him, brows bouncing playfully. "Nooo," she drawled with mock offence. "This is all for us. Obviously." She swept over to the nearest bag and began pulling out fabric—rich swathes of black and ivory, glints of bone-white thread, buttons shaped like little teeth. "Ludo’s throwing a masquerade, " she explained, her voice lifting with excitement. "And the theme is Ludo. Everyone’s got to dress up like them. I thought maybe we could make something fun together—something a little eerie, a little ghostly. I brought a bunch of options."
Pausing, she held up a roll of gauzy black material with a flourish, letting it catch the light like smoke. "Even if you don’t want to go, you’ll end up with a killer cloak. Something warm. Regal. Very dead but make it fashion." Aka, very Niki.
"The irony," Niki all but drawls, trying and failing to hide the smile that spreads across his face. Ghosties and ghoulies? A dying art? Get it? You get it.
That same smile, though, drops away abruptly at the mere idea of comparing scars, the boy looking markedly uncomfortable despite Flora's light tone, and he clears his throat and shakes his head. "That's quite alright," he says, "I would really rather not." But, strange as it is to be the thing anyone looks forward to in their day, he accepts it from the Doubletake, finally stepping back from her embrace.
"You are here now," Niki says warmly. "That is all that matters. But... this is for us?" Frowning again at the table laden with goodies, he follows her over to where she begins producing midnight fabric and ivory fastenings, and Niki is admittedly very confused until she offers an explanation.
"I... I wish I could be more surprised than I am to hear about this," he says slowly. Ludo, masquerades, dressing as Ludo... it all very much tracks. "Your wordplay about death today is exceptional," he tells her dryly, though he won't deny that making a killer cloak does sound interesting. Especially since Flora has already worked hard to bring everything here.
"Very well. Let us be the best versions of Ludo that we can be. Would you like anything before we begin?" he asks. Tea, snacks, some eerie background noise?
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
Flora hums against him, a soft, contented little sound that curls in her throat like the purr of a very smug cat. When Niki squeezes her back, she lingers half a heartbeat longer, just enough to soak in the warmth before she lets go, spinning away with a rustle of fabric and gold.
At his deadpan about her wordplay, she positively beams, bright enough to rival the stained-glass windows of the Hanged Man. "I have an entire missed date to make up for," she sings, sweeping her hands over the array of supplies like a game show hostess revealing the grand prize. "I considered a dramatic musical number, but decided you’d probably prefer wordplay instead."
She grins down at the gauzy fabric in her hands, folding it with reverent care. "You know, masquerades are usually just an excuse for people to make out with folks they wouldn’t dare kiss in daylight." Her brows arch with faux innocence, then settle into something softer. "But honestly? I’m just excited for something that isn’t about the Family, y'know? No Void, no infection. Just people in Ludo outfits pretending things are back to normal."
She glances back toward him, curls swinging over one shoulder. "I’d love some tea. I brought a blend from Torchline I think you’ll like—jasmine, dried molten pineapple, and a little lemongrass. Should be in the bag with the bird bones." Because of course it is.
"If you don’t mind putting the kettle on," she adds, already peeling back a bolt of fabric with all the drama of a curtain call, "I’ll get the stuff we need to take our measurements."
Niki's head cocks curiously to the side at her choice of words - date isn't part of his comfortable vocabulary, but so be it - though he does warm at her decision making. "You say that, but I quite enjoy musical numbers, so long as I am not expected to do the dancing. I can only get one step into the can-can without some unfortunate consequences." Grinning back at her, he finally approaches the table properly to look at all of the items she's brought.
And no part of Niki ought to be surprised that she's been so thorough with it, and yet his eyebrows still raise - and raise further to hear what masquerades are apparently for. "...I see," he says slowly. "Well, I do not know where it will be to say whether I will be able to attend, but either way, I a fetching cloak is a must in the Greatwood for Deepfrost. And you are right - I feel I was protected from the worst of what was happening in the world, but it does feel as though people are able to take a breath now."
Moving to the bag with the bird bones as indicated, Niki lifts out the tea and gives it an experimental sniff and nods his approval. "It would be my pleasure," he says, too perturbed by the idea of being wrapped up in a bolt of fabric to wonder if he ought to tell Flora one of these days that he actually prefers coffee.
Anyway.
Off to the kitchen he goes, his footsteps easier, certainly, in such a familiar space, and once the tea is prepared and he's waiting for the water to boil, he comes to lurk in the doorway to see what she's up to.
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
Flora chuckles, a warm sound that bubbles up from her chest as she casts a fond look over her shoulder. "No dancing required," she promises with a wink, "but I’d absolutely adore a dance with you anyway. Even if it’s just a slow shuffle where you step on my toes a lot." She hums as she unrolls another bolt of fabric, clearly unbothered by the logistics.
When Niki mentions he may not be able to attend, she tsks softly under her breath, hands busy laying out the materials in precise little rows. "Well lucky for you, I happen to have my own personal skyship now," she says, tossing a grin his way like it’s the most casual thing in the world. "So if it’s held somewhere out of compass range, I can come scoop you up myself. You won’t even have to pack snacks—I’ll bring those too." And blankets, drinks, sleep-over clothing, and even a few books she thinks he might like to read.
As Niki heads off to the kitchen, Flora sets about assembling their miniature workshop: bolts of cloth unfurled like banners, her shears glinting where they’ve been laid beside coils of black thread and lengths of boning—some carved, some natural. There are little bundles of feathers, shell beads, and a tiny bone clasp in the shape of a moth she sets aside with a quiet oooooooh.
When he returns to the doorway, lurking in that comfortably observant way of his, she doesn’t look up right away—just smirks, threading a ribbon through her fingers. "Sooo?" she says after a moment, lifting her gaze to meet his with a mischievous spark. "How’d you like meeting my friend Kaisel?"
"Bold of you to assume that I will be the one stepping on toes," Niki says dryly, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I will be doing my best to move as little as possible, though I think I could manage an animated sway if the music is good."
As soon as he had spoken and it had remotely sounded as though he wouldn't be going to the masquerade, he really ought to have expected Flora to insist upon it. Though he doesn't expect to be offered a ride on her personal skyship to boot, the boy's mouth opening to object before he (wisely) thinks better of it. "That is very kind of you to offer," he says instead.
And if it so transpires that he gets airsick, he's sorry about that in advance.
Letting cold blue eyes flow over the array of materials and tools she's brought, Niki can't deny the way he feels his shoulders relax; it might not be metalwork, but it's a craft that mainly involves the use of his hands, and that's firmly within his comfort zone. "Hm? Oh, Kaisel? It was pleasant enough," he says, though the grin that spreads across his face is just a little too crooked to be polite. "When he was not pouring salt across my threshold or throwing iron charms at my head."
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
Flora gasps, all pearl-clutch and theatre, her hand flying to her chest like he’s just challenged her to a duel. "Excuse you, I live for an animated sway." Animated Sway, title of Niki's sex tape.
Her grin is a sunbeam, easy and irreverent as she loops the ribbon over one of the moth clasps, fingers moving even while her attention shifts fully to Niki. When he answers about Kaisel, her brows rise in time with the slow, delighted smile that blooms across her face. "Salt and charms?" she echoes with a laugh, clearly picturing it. "That does sound like him."
Leaning over her collection, she picks through a bundle of beads, plucking one shaped like a tiny skull and holding it up between two fingers. "So he really believed you were a ghost?" she asks, though it’s half rhetorical, half gleeful. With mock innocence, she blinks wide aquamarine eyes at Niki, her voice full of oh-so-faux sincerity. "I mean, surely nothing you said or did reinforced that idea. Like, you weren’t at all being cryptic or appearing out of nowhere or, gods forbid, whispering in tongues, right?"
"Then we ought to have a fine time at the masquerade, no?" Niki says, stepping further into the room to watch as she fusses with the ribbon and the bone moth clasp, his thumb absently brushing across the identical pattern carved into the top of his cane. "Does it?" he echoes about Kaisel with a soft raise of his eyebrows. "It made quite a first impression, I will grant you that." And if he meets the other man again with similar shenanigans, he'll likely be inclined to agree with Flora about him.
The kettle whistles distantly in the kitchen and Niki excuses himself briefly to go and make their tea. He returns pushing a small trolley boasting their cups, a teapot and a bowl of sugar cubes, figuring that to be easier than ferrying everything back and forth with one hand. "He was quite serious. Insistent, you might even say," he agrees about Kai with a solemn nod, pouring himself a cup (no sugar) and bringing it to the table to sit down with it.
"If by appearing out of nowhere you mean I came to the door when I heard someone yelling my name outside the house, then yes, I may be guilty of reinforcing the idea," he says mildly, before a small, slightly guilty smile kicks up one side of his mouth. "I did perhaps play into the idea when I spotted the salt. But it was only for a moment."
stay your pretty eyes on course i guess i never really faced my fears before
Flora’s grin is triumphant. "Excellent," she hums, pretending to fuss with a corner of gauze while clearly savouring what she assumes is Niki’s agreement to attend.
While Niki retreats to deal with the kettle, she chuckles to herself, low and fond, brushing her fingers over the little bone moth now stitched with a thread of black ribbon. Leave it to Kaisel to introduce himself with supernatural salt-flinging. He never did anything halfway—not his magic, not his affections, not his wildly misdirected suspicion of poor, sweet Niki. The memory stings a little, as most Kai-related things have lately, but it’s soothed by the comfort of this room and the company within it. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she says once he’s returned and settled with his tea, her tone light as ever. "Kaisel doesn’t really believe in ‘halfway.’ It’s full throttle or nothing with him."
Her gaze slides sideways, lips twitching. "And you, sir," she adds, a hand gesturing vaguely in his direction, "for all your talk of being mortal and achy and altogether breakable, do move like a goddamn ghost. You do realise you’re completely silent when you want to be, right?" Her brows lift, teasing and pointed.
She shrugs with one shoulder, reaching for her tea and spooning in a rather audacious amount of sugar cubes. "Honestly, though, if Kaisel is so afraid of spirits, I’m not sure why he’s decided to settle down in King’s End of all places. That entire region practically whistles with the dead." Flora gives the tea a stir, the spoon tapping lightly against porcelain as she finally lifts her eyes to the spread of fabric, clasps, feathers, and bone trimmings scattered across the table like macabre confetti. With a quick nod of her chin, she gestures to it all. "Anything calling to you? Colour, texture, aesthetic vibe? I figured something sharp and shadowy might suit you, but maybe you’re secretly a bone-white velvet and drama sleeves kind of guy."
