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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 maddening, the feel of her wrapped around him body and mind, Jack's fingers clutching at her even as her legs lock around him, hips rising to meet his every thrust. Shivering out a breath that tries and fails to be a laugh at the breathy demand that sighs against the shell of his ear, he leans into Flora's touch as it brushes against his jaw, forcing the muscles to relax.
"Fuck..." A real moan slips from his lips this time, the captain burying himself in her again and again until the slam of the headboard against the cabin wall almost matches the thunder of his pulse. "Say it again." Say you're mine again. Shifting as the words fall from his lips, he roughly drags her with him as he rises to his knees, encouraging her legs up and over his shoulders.
Gazing down at her, all torn lace and pert breasts and flushed skin, he can't help the catlike smile that tugs at his lips. "With you lookin' like that, how the fuck did I ever get anythin' done," he wonders, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
The raw moan tumbling from his lips is a strike of lightning through her, and Flora arches into it as if the sound itself were touch, her body searing with the pulse of his hips slamming into hers. Heat flares and multiplies, her breath catching before spilling out in a rough, breathless “yours,” the word torn from her as much as given. The air stutters in her lungs again when Jack hauls her higher, long legs sliding over his shoulders, the new angle burying him so deep inside her that the cry of his name rips itself loose, sharp and loud enough she’s certain it echoes down into the kitchen.
Her palm presses flat to the headboard behind her, bracing against his relentless rhythm, and she lifts her gaze to him through lashes heavy with sweat and want. Torn lace clings in ragged ribbons across her golden skin, her body spread like a canvas beneath him, every thrust painting heat across her. With her free hand, she drags her fingers between her thighs, tearing away what scraps of lace remain until she can ghost over her clit, the small circle of touch stealing a moan from her throat.
"You learned to work pretty fast," she manages to breathe out between sharp gasps, a smirk twisting her lips even as she swallows another surge of pleasure. "Taking advantage of my naps, and—" The tease breaks off in a whimper as the coil tightens, her heel pressing into the hard plane of his back to drive him deeper, her hand moving in earnest as her voice fractures into his name once more. "Gods, Jack. Like that—fuck, don't stop."
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
"Yeah, well. Some things are worth takin' the time--" Jack mutters, though he's cut off by the soft curse that spills from his lips as her fingers find her clit, the pleasure richocheting right through him in turn. "Fuck, I love it when you touch yourself," he grates out, relishing the ache of her heel digging into his shoulder blade even as he feels the rest of his body draw tight with need, like a spring stretched to breaking point.
Evidently this is not one of those occasions where slow and meticulous is better than hard and fast, and while one of the captain's hands remains anchored on Flora to keep the sharp, deep angle of his thrusts, the other curves greedily around her body, squeezing her ass before pressing against her lower back as if to arch her into the brutal snap of his hips.
"Cum for me, Flora," he purrs, gaze molten as he drinks her in, panting and perfect and unravelling all around him.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Flora won’t remember a time they’d ever been so vocal with one another—what with how normally controlled Jack was and with how reliant she'd become on his telepathy—and gods, she loves it. Tilting her chin up in defiance of the quake building inside her, she lets her fingers glide against her clit, the touch stealing her breath into a sharp gasp before she manages to whisper, hushed and taunting, "like that?"
The way his hands grip her, firm and utterly certain of what will unravel her, is ruinous in all the ways she secretly aches for. Possessive, knowing, inevitable in all the best and worst ways. His touch sets her alight, and when she lifts her gaze to meet his, her lips part around a moan that could be a prayer or a curse. She doesn’t know if he’s driven the names of anyone else from her mind; all she knows is the way her aqua eyes refuse to close, refusing to retreat into memory, refusing to replay the highlight reel of their best when's and where's, instead starting here, in this moment, with him. Her arm trembles against the wall as her body curves and shakes, her fingers building a cresting wave of pleasure that she makes no attempt to slow.
Jack's name slips past her lips in broken succession—first steeped in need, then twisting with the raw flash of surprise that always marks the sheer force of how he drags her over the edge. Pleasure lashes through her with the violence of a storm. Flora curls forward as the orgasm tears through her, lashes fluttering until the ocean-blue of his eyes blurs into a wash of light. Her hand leaves the wall to grasp blindly, desperately, seizing onto his skin, his arm, his hair—anything at all—as if to haul him down into the flood of his own making to drown there with her.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
His breath catches as the sharp lance of pleasure crackles through Flora, Jack's lips parting around a stuttered moan of surprise that soon kicks up the corner of his mouth in a smug smile. "Just like that, love," he purrs, before as vocal as they suddenly are (it's new for both of them and not at all unpleasant for Jack, as it happens), actions start to speak much louder than words.
He feels the peak of her orgasm like it's something he can reach out and hold tight, the captain watching with hungry eyes as Flora starts to come apart at the seams, as what's rational is replaced by impatience and raw need. "Gods, like that--" he growls, half biting back the words if only because there's only so much breath left in his lungs. And as Flora breaks around him, as always, Jack is dragged along in the undertow, his hips slamming hard into her, his grip tight enough to bruise.
Already toppling forward even as Flora reaches for him, one arm is forced to reach out and brace over her head if only to stop from crumpling down onto her entirely - not that he suspects she'd mind. He rides each wave of their collective climax with fingers long gone numb and the liquor bottle on his desk cracking with the way the liquid inside has frozen solid - something he won't notice for some time, unfortunately.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Flora sinks into the deep waters of a haze so blissful it feels suspended outside of time, the words just like that, love drifting through the darkness like pale ribbons of light. Her hips eventually ease, her body loosening its grip on urgency, long legs sliding down to curl more comfortably around Jack’s waist. Even that small shift sparks faint tremours through her, echoes of the wave that had drowned her so completely still humming inside.
Her chest rises and falls with a sharpness that rivals her morning runs across the Torchline shore, every breath dragging fire and salt back into her lungs. When her mind begins to rethread itself into something coherent again, she realises her hands have tethered themselves to him of their own accord; one braced firmly across the muscle of his back, the other buried in the mess of his hair, both holding him there as though he might vanish otherwise. The awareness makes her will herself to loosen, fingers softening, muscles slowly unwinding as she melts back against the bed.
And yet—despite knowing how often he pulls away, despite how practiced he is at vanishing back into himself the moment the fire has burned down—she’s not ready to let go so soon this time. If he tries to roll from her, she’ll meet him with the quiet resistance of her limbs wound around him, wordless but unyielding, trying to keep him here just a little longer, pressed against the heat of her skin while the remnants of pleasure still thrum between them. "We're very good at that," she whispers against his shoulder.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
Ecstasy is slow to release its chokehold on Jack, such that by the time he can half trust his limbs not to buckle entirely, he's slowly let himself melt into Flora and against the bed. Her arms wind around him like they might be the only thing holding him together, tethers of fire and gold that keep the chaos in him from spooling out into the open air. His head drops against her shoulder, breath shivering out of him in uneven bursts, as if he's forgotten how to control the rhythm of it.
And as her voice breaches the haze of pleasure that envelops them, Jack can't help it - he laughs, the sound rough as the sea on a stormy day. "Better'n most people I know," he agrees. He can feel the resistance in her thoughts before any part of him considers rolling away, and regardless of whether it's for her or for himself, fuck it, he stays. It's familiar in a way he doesn't expect - doesn't realise he's missed - to have her in his bed, her perfume on his pillows and her breath in his ear, and the captain falls quiet to simply exist with it.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
It feels almost dangerous, how natural this comfort is—how easily Flora could let herself sprawl into it and never want to move again. There’s a sweetness in the steady rise and fall of Jack’s chest against hers, his heartbeat drumming in tandem with her own until it feels less like two people tangled in bed and more like one long wave being passed back and forth between them, cresting and settling in the hush after the storm. Her lips brush his shoulder as if the words slip out without her quite meaning to, a quiet admission shaped into the air between them. "You feel good." Around her, inside of her, pulse pounding against her. Normally she might have kept it in her head, but with how much he’s been urging her lately to say things out loud, she lets this one find a voice.
As he laughs, Flora's smile unfurls against his shoulder, thoughts champagne-light and irrepressible, her lashes brushing his skin as she rolls her eyes at herself as much as at him. He’ll feel the curve of her grin before he hears her voice, sly but warm, stitched through with laughter she doesn’t bother to hold back. "So, d’you think you’ll be able to gaslight Bassian into thinking it was someone else in your bed making all that noise," she murmurs, teasing and wicked in equal measure, "or did I just blow our cover for good?"
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
"Mm, so do you," Jack mutters before he can stop himself, as if to match whatever honesty Flora is allowing to bubble to the surface. Her thoughts settle like ripples on a lake returning to stillness, and it's a place the captain has let himself linger for so long that it really does feel natural to return to it.
For as turbulent as things had been - and they had been, especially coming up to this time last year, he remembers - there had been plenty of this, too. Only now does he realise how much he'd taken it for granted, how much he's been trying to find it again between different sheets and in different minds to no avail.
"Mm, to be honest I reckon our cover was blown with the flower banner. He ain't the sharpest tool but he ain't the dumbest either," he mutters, turning his head just enough to glance sidelong at her. "Though I reckon you might've given the game away for good, yeah." Scoffing, he lets his fingers tease absently through her curls. "He's prob'ly jumpin' to all sorts of conclusions as we speak."
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
There’s nothing flashy in the way Flora's thoughts respond to his words—no sparkle, no teasing grin behind the words—just the steady warmth of a pulse that feels deep and quiet, like the tide rolling back against the sand. Her hand, still curled around his back, drifts slowly, palm tracing a soft line over skin in a touch that’s less deliberate than instinctive, as if her body’s forgotten that moments like this are meant to have a countdown, that tenderness is supposed to be outside the bounds of what they are to each other now.
The breath she lets out is a little uneven, turning into a snort as she tilts her head enough to catch that dark blue sliver of his gaze. Something twists sharp and tender in her chest when his fingers slip through her curls, and the want that rises isn’t for another breathless, urgent kiss—gods, they’ve had plenty of those now—but for something quieter and less hurried. The thought startles her with its clarity, so much that she clears her throat softly, as though the sound might break it apart before it settles too deeply inside her.
"At least when you leave your cabin alone, it might give Bassian some pause," she murmurs instead, trying for lightness as she brushes her thumb idly along his spine. She'd brought her compass so that she could slip back to Torchline and still be able to beat the Ark to Stormbreak. "Assuming you're still going," she adds, clarifying that this hadn't been enough to satisfy the reason the literal banner of flowers had been hoisted in the first place.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
Almost without his permission, Jack leans into the idle stroke of her fingers against his bare skin, head tilting further as if to encourage the touch up and against the back of his neck as well as trickling down his spine. His pulse has settled into something steady again now, and while more than one part of him knows the routine after this - get up, get dressed, get to work, as had been the case even when they'd been more to each other than this - the rest of him holds fast.
The thought that rises to the surface of Flora's mind is stark enough that no amount of playing it down will fully erase it from the captain's memory, and though he does shift, it's only enough to prop an elbow beneath him. "I didn't grow flowers for you for nothin'," he confirms with a smirk - that's a yes, he's still going. "Why bother leavin', though? Sail up with The Ark. We're goin' to the same place."
It all sounds frighteningly reasonable, which is what makes it so dangerous, of course, Jack gesturing to the door. "I can relay an order in a few seconds to get us in the air."
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
As Jack shifts, Flora's cheek sinks deeper into the pillow as she gazes up at him, teeth catching the inside of her lip to try and suppress the smile that threatens at his reminder of the flowers. It shouldn’t make her want to laugh, but it does, light and bright, and yet beneath the fizz of it, her chest aches with the uncomfortable truth that none of the reasons they’d ended things had vanished. They hadn’t stopped loving each other, but love, as they'd pointed out at the House of Midnight, had never been enough to keep them from breaking. The sex only makes the edges blurrier, the closeness of him against her reminding her of how much she misses more than just his body.
Her gaze lingers on his for a moment, and she doesn’t need to be a telepath to catch the weight behind his words—she’s known Jack too long not to hear the offer beneath the casual veneer. Still, it leaves her feeling unsteady, this being a tightrope that she feels wildly unprepared to try and walk on. Swallowing down the swell of wanting, she forces out a laugh meant to sound breezy. "One reason," she murmurs, tilting her head toward the torn state of her lingerie, "is that I can’t exactly go parading through Stormbreak in this." Her hand lifts from his back and flicks vaguely toward her body, a huff of amusement covering the fact that the thought of staying—really staying—is dangerous in ways a ripped slip of silk could never be. Jack had sent every last one of her belongings packing in one of their more explosive fights, and she doubts there’s even a stray bobby pin of hers left aboard the Ark to cover her now.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
Just one? Jack's raised eyebrows seem to say as Flora's reasoning ties itself into knots in her mind. He doesn't have any arguement for her thoughts, of course - she's absolutely right, and the things that divided them haven't gone anywhere, save for the fact that they're starkly aware of them now. But Jack is also starkly aware of when he wants something, and Flora's presence in his bed is an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome reminder of when things had been good, if no less complicated.
"You have an invisibility ring," he points out dryly, nodding down at her bejewelled fingers. "I have more'n one shirt you've stolen an' worn in your time on this ship, an' little else besides. An' I doubt Stormbreak has closed every boutique in the city, if you want somethin' new." He hasn't realised how easy the reasons have slipped out until they do, the captain inhaling a long breath and letting it out again, as if he's just caught himself in the act of it.
"Course, I ain't gonna stop you if you wanna go," he says, and it's a follow-up both of them could see coming from a mile away.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
She knows every thought is a live wire between them—that he’ll catch the shape of her hesitation same as the pull beneath it—such that her chin dips a fraction. The gesture isn't quite an apology, but close enough that it feels like one, the sharpness of truth beginning to harden the soft edges that Flora had been so keen to cling to.
Instead, she lets his answers linger in the air—each one a door she could walk through or close again with equal ease—and almost prefers the fact that it isn’t him outright asking her to stay, much as it would make her stomach somersault to hear it. Her hand drifts back to rest against his shoulder amidst the scatter of inked blooms across his skin, as a smile begins to unfold across her lips, sly and warming.
"Well," she murmurs, voice curling with mischief, "I can hardly turn down the chance to properly raid your closet." She rolls her hips up against his with deliberate ease, burying what she doesn’t want to name beneath the motion, as if the sway of her body could blot out the truth that words can’t. "So if you think you’re getting any work done on the flight up, you'll either have to tire me out or think again."
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
