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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!
08-01-2025, 10:54 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2025, 11:01 PM by Liam.)
How could I say goodbye? We've come too far to turn back now
Liam couldn't remember ever having attended a party quite like this one. He arrived with Maea on his arm to find Ludo's Wood decorated with glowing lanterns, ribbons, paper ghosts, and string lights - all of which combined to create a beautiful, ethereal lighting that made the Wood into something stunning. Dotted throughout the large, idyllic clearing were cookfires and tents and stalls, with plenty of space available for dancing and food and gods knew what else.
Liam was dressed all in black, and perhaps more formally than the event required - although he had managed to craft a cloak that hung in tatters to his waist and a white mask that covered his face. In truth, he felt a little silly, but upon seeing the rest of the party, he realized that at least he would fit in. There were all kinds of costumes here, with plenty more outlandish than his.
The music shifted into something jovial and fun, and Liam grinned down at his partner. "Dance with me?" he asked, tilting his head towards an area where the music seemed a little louder, a little wilder. It seemed to Liam like the perfect excuse to pull Maea close and show her off all at once - an opportunity that he'd be a fool to pass up.
Nova doesn't usually do 'subtle' or 'black' or 'Ludo' but she's too competitive not to take this seriously and too ambitious not to see what she can do. That doesn't mean she didn't add her own flare to the impersonation, but she'd made sure to keep it in the realm of mystical. So even though she's dolled head to toe in - gag - black, it's actually such a dark glittered fabric that she looks like a black hole in the process of swallowing a galaxy. Every shift of the robe catches the low lights in a subtle way that will make people swear their eyes are playing tricks on them. And they just might be with how her illusion magic gives the torn ends the ghostly look of smoke and rippling darkness. Even her eyes appear to flicker from blue to black to white thanks to the makeup lining her eyes beneath the mask that matches her robe.
With her hood pulled high to 'disguise' herself (who wouldn't guess that the glittering/giggling robe is Nova?), she leans close to hear Vesper's words, a mischievous grin on her lips that turns into a giggle. The music is already drawing her, and she pulls a little ahead of her siblings, glancing back as he 'blesses' their night with poor choices and padded consequences. When they make their way into the revelry, her eyes shimmer and shine with delight, taking in the incredible display that's been put together like spices and stars stitched into golden leaves. She wants to try everything, including the bubbly alcohol she sees shimmering in tiny flutes. Even if she ends up with a headache in the morning, it'll be worth it.
Grabbing at Calypso's hand, she's beckoning her siblings with whisps of smoke and laughter. "Come on! Let's go before they run out!"
"You have found me out," Niki drawls, a smirk on his face, his hand raising as if to tap at his nose (though of course he doesn't, given that it's currently blotted with black makeup to give the appearance of a hollow skull). "Though you do not have to worry - I imagine you would be quite fetching even by ghoul standards." Whatever those standards might be.
Focusing on another sip of his cider - and it goes down a lot easier the second time, wouldn't you believe - Niki follows Flora's gaze out to the sea of imitation Ludos and smirks. "Have you been in many cults, then?" he asks. "How does this rate in comparison, other than being decidedly more festive?"
It's as he glances back to the Doubletake that he spots her finishing her mug of cider and then reaching for a shot of something, Niki's eyes widening behind his mask. "I must warn you, if your balance becomes compromised, I am not the right person to start leaning on," he says, opting not to follow suit and staring instead down at his cider. "I am still feeling quite steady, alas. Perhaps in a little while I will be in the mood to sway, or to take a shot."
He turns at the sound of Flora's name, and his own in short succession, and a polite smile curls at his lips to spot Theea parting the crowd. "Hello Theea," he says. "I did not realise you had met Flora. I do not believe you are interrupting - we were just discussing whether this gathering seems almost like a cult to Ludo."
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
there's so much time for me to speak up, but i keep quiet
She’s the odd one out – despite Nova’s glitter. Her sister’s attire is dark and glittery, a black iridescent that could swallow the universe, and at her other side Vesper stands all dark and handsome blues. Both of them look sharp, cold, dangerous in their own way. Which leaves her, stuck quite lovely in the middle of them, the sun that makes her sister glitter and grants her brother all the shadows to draw from.
Yes, she knew the rules, to dress in Ludo Attire, and she isn’t exactly wrong when she steps in. A golden mask, edged with floral patterns of black waves creep away from the eye like a cats eye gone to the extreme, while the ‘rag’ she wears is golden and sheer, glittering sunlight that dances with the flicker of the lantern flame they walk past as they drift into the party. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Caly waves him off, flashing a perfectly bright grin from lips painted black, mirroring the dark sunset of a dress beneath the golden shawl of her imitation of Ludo’s rags.
Letting her brother go as the clearing opens up to them, she flashes him a wink over her shoulder as Nova snags her hand. “You wanna go get some cider?” She prompts her sister, taking a moment to glance around the masquerade for any chins that might be familiar to her.
“I have them memorized, darling.” The butcher hums, heaving a soft little sigh that passes through the cool metal of the muzzle, fitted neatly beneath the ivory, bone-like mask that honestly only adds a certain kind of macabre to the whole ordeal. Not that he’s complaining, he does know that it’s for the best, but it takes a surprising amount of effort from him in order to keep himself good. To the point that he very nearly feels nostalgia and reflection from before he’d become Ancient, finding himself in that village so many centuries ago. The domino that had fallen to get him to where he is now.
Anyway, the butcher runs through them like a little mantra in his head, giving Dantalion’s hand a squeeze as they enter the clearing – a first for the both of them to be so easily touchy, but a requirement this season he hadn’t quite been willing to give up. Be good. Be good. Reverberates back and forth in his mind like an echo chamber, pausing only as they pass by the white chocolate covered cherries that very nearly distract him completely.
Swiveling his head back to his lover, the shark-tooth smile is sharp beneath the edge of the metal muzzle. “Mm? Ah, yes, I shall try not to set it aflame.” He drawls like it’s a very real possibility he could just burst into flame without warning. It isn’t like he has to worry about his outfit too much – adorned with far less than what the butcher ever ventured out to these gatherings with. The muzzle and mask are in place and beneath them he sports a cloaked ‘rag’ made of thin chain-link pieces, falling against his skin in cooling temperatures but see through enough to see the bulk of his chest, the scar tissue on full display. It’s centered along his sternum and between his shoulder blades at his back, with spiderwebbing lines raised and etching out toward his neck and his stomach on his front, on his back they reach with grotesque fingers to the small of his back and along his shoulders like carved wings. Black pants, complete with a leather belt make up the rest of the outfit, his red spaded tail flicking with a touch of frustration that he tries to tamper down. “She looks divine.” The butcher hums, catching Flora across the way with none other than the butcher’s favorite necromancer, lighting his mood some to see the younger man, able to pick him out easily amongst the crowd.
08-02-2025, 01:14 PM (This post was last modified: 08-02-2025, 01:22 PM by Deimos.)
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
After their latest celebration for Remi and Ronin, alongside ghosts of the past, Deimos settled into the notions of the masquerade with very little expectations. Besides some aspects of chaos – which mostly went with the flavor of Ludo’s efforts.
He’d kept his robes and mask simplistic at first; basic outlines to match the usual outfit flair – he’d known he’d be a giveaway with his height alone, so any additional ornamentation was done out of amusements. Some easier embellishments, snowflakes embroidered casually down on bottom hems, tucked away and mostly out of sight, and his mask much more hellhound based than anything else, with an elongated snout and muzzle, complete with vague intentions of embers appearing as if they curled and contorted off the sides.
But thereafter, he glanced around at the gathered – narrowing his eyes behind the portion, already trying to discern. That he wound up distracted and by the food table happened to be mere coincidence, plucking at some of the cheese, meat, and bacon wrapped sausages, before peering around again.
The music curls through the trees ahead—too bright, too open. Ribbons flutter in the breeze, paper ghosts dancing like they don’t know they’re dead. Lanterns sway in the boughs, golden and warm. I keep to the edges, letting the darker paths of Ludo’s Woods cradle my steps. They’re the only parts of this place that feel like mine.
Already I’ve seen her—Theea, radiant and unguarded, laughing with one person I don’t recognize and Remi and Ronin’s daughter. She’s in good company. That’s what matters. I don’t need to interrupt, to haunt the edges of her joy like some shadow too stubborn to fade. This is her night to have fun with friends, not me. It’s her life. I don’t belong in it like I used to, and I’m not about to make this moment about me.
So I move along the edge of the clearing, unseen if I’m lucky. Unacknowledged if I’m not. The gown shifts around my legs and arms like trailing smoke, midnight blue streaked with gold, the ends frayed into ribbons that whisper as I walk, flashing leg with every step—knives peeking out in a flash.
Once I loved events like this. Any chance to dress up and show off.
I reach the drink table and immediately grab two of the small glasses near the edge—don’t ask what they are, I don’t care. I down the first one in a single breath, and the second just as fast. The burn is welcome. It gives me something to hold on to. My hands shake less with a weight in them, so I take a mug of cider next and hold it like a tether, fingers curled around it as if it might anchor me to this place.
The mask helps. It lets me pretend. Sharp and sleek, dark midnight blue as the sky overhead with gold wisps along its wolf-shape. It hides enough—but not everything. I know what I look like. I know how I carry myself, how I look. Anyone who knows me will know me. I’m too short not to know, really.
I scan the crowd for Remi and Ronin. I don’t want to lean on them and use them as a crutch, not really.
Melita was in her element – the life and breath of chaos. She’d been tempted to place her robes on top of her invisibility portions and see what would happened if there were just floating clothes around – but she’d yet to work out the schematics and semantics around it.
Case in point, she appeared in her usual accord; skipping in towards the food, her robes not so neat and tidy, but stitched enough in a classic black. If the sleeves looked a bit off, so be it – she was content with the whole horde of pockets on the outside and inside. She immediately pilfered some food off the table, then turned around, mask made to look like a combination of Fangorn and Sila (gourd dragon or dragon pumpkin, take one’s pick), glancing about for Iskra as if she just remembered he was supposed to be there too.
“Isn’t this exciting?” She whispered to Zavien, making no mistake about who they were despite the disguises. It didn’t bother her much; not one for too much chaos, but enough to keep things interesting and entertaining. It wasn't the rodeo and she wasn't about to watch the Accepted get thrown from massive animals or devastating heights, nor was it a pool party where individuals were getting stabbed (yet), so all in all, a point to be made in its overtures. Her own outfit had faired decently after all the toil and labor; neatly, impeccably embroidered, with her own spin on things with nature aspects up and down the portions of the Ludo mask.
Surveying some of the portions, especially the food table but also couples and partners spinning about, she left the next decision in his hands, figuring they could do whatever made him most comfortable. “Do you want snacks or dancing first?”
"Look!" she tells Hawthorn with a breath of excitement as she points past his nose towards the splendor of the woods opening up around them. As if he doesn't have his own set of eyes that can clearly see the current of amber and scarlet that washes over the forest like an overhead river, each fallen leaf just a droplet of color spilling free. She grins, the plum-colored paint on her lips stretching out under the sterling mask fitted to her face, positively thrilled that the invitation for the festivities is back here. It allows him to see the display before the season ends, since the best he'd admitted to was imitations in the House of Midnight, an injustice to the true thing.
Her head tips back towards Sunjata as they all walk from the skyport, Kaisel somewhere slow behind them and Alys somewhere ahead. "We should plant more trees like this in town," she suggests, not entirely serious, but not entirely unserious either. She's no farmer, as she told him once before already, so the actual possibility is unknown to her, although she can hazard a guess they don't already have the trees for a reason (she'd could do without the dead souls inside too), but it's a night meant to be mysterious and magical, so she'd indulge a little bit in the idea of dreaming.
The music drifts in as they walk to the actual party, path winding through lanternlight and bobbing willow-wisps that feel like wayward stars. The sheer dress she'd created with Jack, layered to avoid being too see through, is on beneath her oversized poncho which mostly serves as a cloak. She found thicker fabric for it to keep her warm, fringe matching Ludo's affinity for raggedy ends. Akin to the color of her mask, small, silver beads dot the edges of the poncho, and on her dress they scatter across the bodice, growing more numerous towards the bottom until it's a sea of silver. Fully intending on dancing tonight, and walking tomorrow, she's opted for tall, black boots rather than heels. Her loose hair gathers over the collapsed hood, shifting as her head turns back towards Thorn. "Drinks?" she suggests with no lack of mischief in her gaze as she leads the charge to the barrel of cider.
On the look out for one particular set of blue eyes, she does catch another pair nearby, recognizing the dark ballerina in the distance and her own handy work up close, though he's markedly improved upon it. "Evening captain," she drawls towards Jack, giving him an approving once over as she gathers a cup of cider. "You fared better than your crew, so I think your luck will hold."
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
Departing the sky port with the rest of the Enders, Kaisel takes his time, strolling along unhurried behind them. While normally more than happy to dive into whatever party is afoot, the revelry isn't quite so freeing tonight beneath the weight of so many recent arguments and still hazy (read: the timeline doesn't know wtf happened in important threads yet) outcomes of how to move past them. He's going, he's here, and he can sprinkle on a smile like any other day. Still, he's wandering in thought and feeling as much as he is the woods.
Decked out in very traditional Ludo attire, Kaisel is just in a flowing black cloak that is tattered along the edges, so long almost no part of him is visible except his neck rising from the collar. With the hood pulled over his head, plain pale mask fitted in place, his chin is the only free marker of his identity. His traditional exuberance would otherwise have been a dead give away, but with that tucked away for the moment, he looks very much like any other random party goer here.
He sticks to the edges, where the music hums from tree hollows, and rather accidentally bumps into Sohalia. "Oh, sorry," he mumbles, a hand lifting up in apology and brace should he have knocked her too heavily. The sight of blonde hair has him freezing in his tracks rather suddenly as he bothers to look up, but one glance at the eyes behind the mask and the not-quite sun-spun scatter of curls, he knows this is neither of the women he was hoping to run into at some point tonight. Neither is it Koa, not that he would have mistaken his cousin for this person, but he's added into the mix of chaotic run-ins too.
What he does realize though, after a moment of scrutiny, is that he thinks he does recognize this lady Ludo. "Soh?" he asks, growing more certain. "SOH! Oh my gods, Soh, I'm so glad I ran into you. Have you talked to Flora recently? Something seems totally wrong, she's gone completely mad, won't return any of my notes and refuses to tell me where to find her."
Goose remained at home, a fact which the husky did not agree on and said as much in a series of argumentative roos and snorts. All while Iskra worked to put together his black pants, shirt, and boots, the dog acutely aware it wasn't Iskra's work attire or staying in attire, meaning they were supposed to go out and do something exciting. So it was the dog threatened tug-of-war with the dark plaid cloak he'd made, nearly causing the plain pale mask to slip off his face as he wrestled the garment from the mongrel. It left a smear of saliva on one end and a few tooth marks that could almost pass as some of Ludo's raggedy ends, if they'd been uniform. Adamant, Iskra had only managed to escape by bribing Goose with a hefty dose of treats, sneaking out the house when the dog was occupied by stuffing his face.
So alone he arrives to the party, admiring the woods with a fond brush of his hand as he goes through their beautiful display and haunting weave. The sound of the masquerade is impossible to miss, and the scent of all the delectable goods it has to offer. He's only got his sights set on one person though, and with her own gaze scanning the crowd, this will prove tricky. So he waits, lingering in the shadow of a tree, careful not to let the lanternlight or some nosy busy body give him away too early. When Melita turns away, he sneaks up behind her, leaning in by her ear to place a "boo!"
Flora grins at Nikandr, triumphant and golden beneath her mask. "I knew it," she says, wagging her drink at him like it's a smoking gun. "I'm glad to have found at least one thing you're bad at."
Rolling her eyes with theatrical exasperation, she lets out a breathy huff. "And obviously I’ve been in loads of cults," she says, deadpan. "Some I led, some I just looked really good in robes for. This one? Mm." She lifts a hand, twirls her wrist loosely. "Ask me again in a few hours."
The sound of her name draws her attention before she can expand on what exactly her cult resume entails. Flora turns, spying a slip of a girl in mirrored silver and midnight purple weaving through the crowd like moonlight with an agenda. It takes her less than a breath to know who it is—her friend group doesn’t exactly skew brunette—and Flora’s grin breaks wide and unrestrained. "Theea !" she chirps, arms already outstretched. She tugs the younger girl into a hug without hesitation, taking in the glittering edges of her mask and the way the dress flutters like violet flame. "Look at you, showing up like a shattered star."
Releasing her with a squeeze, Flora glances between her and Niki with a blink of surprise. "Wait—you two know each other?" Her brows shoot up. "Theea’s actually my cousin," she adds, tipping her glass toward Niki before arching a golden brow in Theea’s direction. But before she can dive any further into what’s clearly a thread of intrigue, something sparkles on the edge of her vision—less like starlight and more like scandal. She gasps, delight curling through her voice as she spots the hulking silhouette of chainmail and sin striding into view. "Gods, look at Astaroth ," she stage-whispers, gesturing toward the butcher with a sweep of her shot glass, feathers twitching with amusement. "Danta's a lucky man."
She’s still admiring the artful horror of his scars and the leather-on-less-than-leather aesthetic when something else catches her attention—no, someone. Movement by the drinks table. Broad shoulders, messy dark hair, a Ludo costume that barely manages to cover his thighs because Caido never meant for costumes to be worn by someone that tall.
"I’ll be right back," she tells Niki and Theea, already moving.
She doesn’t walk—she glides, cider-glazed and starlit, the crowd parting as if in recognition. And then, with zero hesitation and every ounce of affection, she launches herself at the mountain of a man. "Bassian!" she squeals, arms flung around his neck, legs nearly swept off the floor. "Don’t you dare go for the cider—you’re dancing with me first."
some real big things I still gotta figure out
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
With no one wearing their real face It's a whiteout of emotion
Second to her season of birth, Leafchange just might be her favorite time of year. Like after a long held breath, the heat of summer wafted away in a slow sigh. When the leaves turned ruddy and golden, and streams babbled cool and clear over mossladen rocks, and when the early morning had her breath misting, Maea settled into a slower rhythm. She had taken her time with making the costume for this masquerade, quietly adding details until the resulting garb was just the way she wanted it.
Her pride of the outcome showed as confidence as she joined the party on Liam's arm. A mask of pale bone with sprawling golden antlers hid most of her face from view, but a slow, awed smile played on blue-painted lips as she took in the food and decorations, the people who had already arrived and how they had interpreted the theme. A hundred versions of Ludo gazed back, in varying state of dress (or undress, as in the case of Asta) and Maea's arm tightened around Liam's in barely contained excitement that had the ribbons and rags spilling from the shoulders and sleeves of her velvet robe dancing around her. Mainly black, some of them poked through in subtle hues of blue, purple and green, interspersed with trinkets and figures of glass that jingled softly as she walked.
Adjusting the headpiece holding her mask in place, she turned to her partner when he spoke, peering up through the dark hollows of her mask. Not that it helped her, as her lover's face was equally hidden, made unreadable by his own mask.
"Gladly," she answered, with a thrill of anticipatory moths flurrying up a storm inside. "I don't know if I've told you, " – she had – "but you look incredible in black. Very different... more dangerous somehow." The subtle purr in her tone suggested this was no bad thing at all, and as he led them to the dance floor she followed willingly; gliding across dewy grass and fallen leaves like a very petite little specter.
