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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!
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
Based on their track record, Zavien was determined to force their relaxation, even if it meant he sounded a little stern in placing rules and boundaries like a protective shield around their little pocket of peace. The most difficult part was that neither of them aligned with inclinations for silence or stillness, their minds constantly active on ways to help or improve. Which left them with few stolen opportunities to focus on them - a pity that he intended to rectify.
Despite his vantage point of her back, he caught the mischievous lilt to her tone, the curve of her cheeks suspiciously high for a simple smile. Chuckling, Zavien pressed into another knot, slowly listing the many perks he'd be willing to add to her bath. "Bubbles, a book, a drink and snack of your choice, me if you want." The last option was a soft, playful offer that had him blushing slightly through the quiet smirk, nervous he might just break the easy moment so soon into their staycation.
The Caretaker had no doubts that they deserved the break – especially after months and months of the constant onslaught – she just knew there were other things lurking, waiting, for their attention. It coincided with the fact that if they were exhausted, bone-deep lines of fatigue layered against their souls, they also wouldn’t be able to prevail. Perhaps that was one of the few things that kept her in check and in line, trying not to argue upon the stance they lingered within now.
Though the prospects of something else had her laughing, a rosy blush settling on her cheeks at the thought – and since he’d offered rather than her playfully goading him into it, she turned right back around, centering herself beneath his hands, eyes flickering upward to gaze into his. “Oh, I would like all of that, especially the last part. Probably wouldn’t need the rest if I had you.”
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
Her laughter was sunlight heating freshly churned soil, birds chirping in the morning dew, and fresh flowerbuds swaying in the Flowerbirth breeze. It curled in his chest like something new and exciting, something to anticipate and cherish. His hands hovered over her shoulders as she turned, watching each movement with bated breath and a loving smile. Calloused hands trailed down her arms to settle at her hips, bracketing and stabilizing. The pressure of his fingers was light enough to be delicate, contrasted by the gentle strength of his palms that asked a silent question of permission, of consent and certainty that he didn't dare voice in case he broke the moment.
The same question peeked through the playful glint in his eyes, searching hers for confirmation while he teased, "Not even the bubbles?" He was quickly being drawn into her orbit, subconsciously tilting forward and guiding her closer to eliminate the distance between them - the distance between their lips. She was gravity pulling him to her, the weight of the moment hanging like shimmering stars waiting to reveal themselves in the darkness of night, the moment no one can look away as they search for that first flicker of starlight.
She figured they’d been quite patient enough – testing the little boundaries here and there, wading through the murk and grime and hellish sphere to come back together again and again. So his inquiry had sparked that sentiment again, roaming behind her eyes like a promise of love and pleasure with everything that came adorned. Couldn’t they just have this? Without the escalation of a crisis in their midst or the telltale sign of trials and tribulations; just have one another, for a few moments of peace and contentment?
She refrained from rolling her gaze at his question; biting back an oath that would’ve had her endlessly teasing and toying. “If you ask again, I’ll just go draw the bath myself,” she wrinkled her nose, but then flickered her pull into that direct orbit, grounded only by the feeling of his hands on her hips; otherwise she’d be floating off somewhere, dragging him alongside. Her own fingers went to his hair, carding it as she strived to hold him in place, lips following suit to his mouth, to grant and give and signify her affection, her adoration, her permission to keep them going forward.
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
Her chiding comment brought out a low, distracted chuckle as his eyes fell to her lips. "Well, we can't have that..." The words floated away in the quiet galaxy that was suddenly encompassing his every thought. Her touch was the only reason he didn't join them, capturing him in a hold that he never wanted to escape. Then her soft lips were on his, and Zavien returned every bit of tender emotion she gave, overwhelmed by the flood as he drank it in like it was the only thing he needed to survive, the only proof he needed that he was alive. Even behind the gentle, caring way he explored her mouth, he couldn't disguise the intensity behind his feelings, one hand slipping unintentionally beneath her shirt to flatten against her spine while the other moved up to slide into the dark tresses of her hair, cradling her head with an insistent softness that begged her not to pull away as he poured out his heart in the synchrony of their kiss.
Only soldierly discipline and the need for air had him separating - although he didn't make it farther than breathing distance, the quickening warmth of his exhale smelling like sweet chocolate between their tilted heads, mixing with the scents of leather and herbs. It was enough to make his head spin, his mouth barely resisting the urge to claim hers again as he peppered soft kisses between strained words. "If I don't move right now, there might not be a bath." Because her hands were in his hair, the ghost of her lips tingling against his, the warmth of her skin at his fingertips, the rising heat between them making it harder to think; and he couldn't fathom having the strength to do anything but lose himself in her if she stayed planted in front of him. They'd waited too long for this moment, the anticipation too strong for him to break through without her help - and he wasn't sure he wanted to break it. They deserved this. They deserved to have one gods-damned moment that wasn't interrupted by the catastrophes of the world falling at their feet. The bath could wait. The responsibilities could wait. The world could wait for all he cared. He was quite content to forget it all existed for the one at his fingers, the one that had stolen his heart long ago.
He gave in immediately, and she grinned against his mouth; before delving further, enjoying the feverish rush, the ardor, the affection. It’d been a long while since they’d had such opportunities, and while Lena had let them slip away before, for comfort, for composition, for composure, they both seemed to be in accord and agreement that those moments were long past and to savor something better, sweeter, theirs. She hummed the instant his hand went underneath her shirt, all the more encouraging of his exploration – wanting more, offering the proposition in immediate acceptance.
Though she sighed when he parted ways; the resistance in his voice causing her eyes to open. Her head tilted, lips brushing against his jawline, before a tease unfurled. “Must I do everything?” From there, she rose from the couch, anticipating, and maybe wanting the chase – difficult to tell when all those prey instincts rose in her ribs or when her heart was hammering and insistent and wanton – already beginning to laugh, shedding off her shirt and tossing it his way – before taking the initial strides towards the bathroom, coy and giggling. A dare and a coaxing and an open invitation – one she’d given and granted many times before, but fully intended for him to answer, to take.
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
By the time he was breaking to breathe, Zavien was struggling to focus on anything but the way she unraveled him with every response. He chuckled, low and airy as she teased, unable to argue when he was so thoroughly enthralled by everything about her. But the moment she escaped his arms, the distraction was gone and the nerves rushed in. They were dampened by the heat in his veins and the view of Lena discarding her shirt, but there, nonetheless. It had him pausing, taking a deep breath like he was preparing to dive into unknown waters, his heart racing faster than it ever had before - even at his death. Yet he smiled even now, blissful and disbelieving.
Despite the doubts and fears and insecurities, Zavien wasn't blind or deaf, and Lena's parade of swaying hips and melodic sounds had him following without hesitation, a moth to a flame. His longer strides ate the distance between them until his arms wrapped around her from behind, capturing her in his warm embrace so he could sweep her up and into the bathroom, where he gently let her feet brush the ground again. All the while, breathy laughter followed him, a current of brightness in the dim lighting of the house. Tucking his head close to hers, Zavien trailed playfully light kisses along her neck, reluctantly removing a hand from her skin to flick the water on as he did so, just to prove he wasn't going to make her do everything.
The rushing sound of water mixed with the falling cascade of his words, a flirty curl in his satisfied smirk. "Do you need help with your clothes too?" There was an unmistakable flush in his cheeks, but his fingers began a slow descent down her hips, hovering just above the waistband of her sweatpants, equal parts teasing and worshiping.
He answered the call, and even if she purposefully rushed forward, glancing back to gauge where he happened to be and shrieking, his long strides would always take up more space. A breathy rush of laughter filled her lungs and warmed her heart as his arms wrapped around her, guiding her onwards into the bathroom until her feet touched the floor. On a playful note, and simply to goad in ulterior motives, she dashed ahead to see if she could get to the water portions first – but of course, found herself waylaid by his own triumph.
Which, for her part, worked out in the end – she’d been angling for this for a far greater expanse of time. Glancing upwards, back into his features, her eyes were warm and molten; cheeks flushed with anticipation rather than embarrassment – quite eager, quite ready, her fingers readily eager to inch towards his remaining clothes too, wanting to divest all of it at once.
Coy again, she angled her head. “If you’d like,” though quite capable of taking off her own clothing, she’d enjoy the rush of his skin against hers, the toying, the teasing, the taunting. “What about you?”
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
On a high of playful chases and minor victories, her expression had him wanting to melt, passion and affection heating his veins as he admired the flush of her cheeks, the deep brown of her eyes swallowing every bit of apprehension in one fell swoop. It was immediately intoxicating, his thoughts revolving only on her and the need to eliminate every piece of clothing between them - something he'd thought on before but never allowed himself to act on until now. He chuckled, wondering why he'd waited so long as he dipped his head to her ear, the murmur thick with the heat of shared anticipation. "I would love to." Then he kissed her again, deep and wanting as his hands moved.
This time he didn't hesitate. His thumbs hooked on the elastic of her pants, slowly teasing them over the curve of her hips, fingers brushing lightly over the new skin they revealed, soft and caressing like each inch was something he planned to map out later. It wasn't that he was ignoring her question, but his mind was otherwise occupied by his careful stripping of her, moving his mouth down to her shoulder as the pants fell to the floor in a quiet rustle through the sound of flowing water. He'd mostly forgotten about the bath, calloused hands roaming gently along her hips and waist as he smiled, moving farther with each pass of his fingers. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"
Lena would give Zavien all the benefit of the doubt on the waiting aspect; they’d been through multitudes to even get to this point. She was endlessly patient and forbearing though, hoping he’d one day be comfortable enough to shed those vulnerabilities aside and just let them be. So her lack of hesitation bordered on all the ease of being in her own skin, of being willing to share it with him – intimacies, gathered and tucked away and then there within an instant, dipping her head so he might tuck those words into her ear, loosen the ties and stays of clothing left between.
The hesitation bled away and she sighed in relief, and then shuddered at the touch, the erasure, the brief glimpse of clothing brushing aside. Drawstrings and waistbands tucked downward, then gone, as she stepped out of them, one foot kicking them out of the way. “I believe so, but I’ll hear it again,” she preened and smiled, not the least bit prideful or smug, but letting the notions soak into her, brazen along her cheeks again as they flushed once more. Her hands wiled around his shirt, tugging at the bottom part of the hem, and since he hadn’t answered her question, she let her fingers run upwards, underneath the bounty, over the layers of muscles, flesh, sinew, and scars, drawing to an enticement, an ease, a promise. “What about you? Let me see.”
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
Even if the bathroom wasn't beginning to steam, Zavien could feel his own temperature rising, each breath growing heavier with purpose as she came alive under his touch. His laugh was low and thick with passion as he freely reminded her again - as he would a thousand times over, "You're beautiful." He might have said more, but words were escaping him. The path of her fingers left goosebumps along his skin, a tingling that deepened into warmth, then to desire that sat deep in his gut, becoming obvious in the tenting of his pants.
He didn't have to be asked twice a third time to remove his clothes. Creating only enough space between them for his shirt and sweatshirt to find the floor, he exposed his bare chest so she might run her hands over all of him - muscles, scars, heart, and all - wanting desperately to do the same as he wrapped his arms around her again. The hesitations may have been cast aside, but experience didn't suddenly appear to take its place, so Zavien had to rely on instinct and desire to guide his movements. He let his hands roam where they wanted, one stabilizing her hip like she might slip from his grasp, pulling her closer while the other trailed up to her shoulder, slipping her bra strap to the side to make room for his teasing kiss as he searched for a means to discard the underwear.
She flushed under the compliment regardless of how many times he’d said it, preening just for him under the sanctity and shelter of the bathroom, the impending steam, the potential of today being a day for them and nothing else. Her mouth started a chorus line of motions below his ear, reaching along his neck and following the pathways of his muscles; brawny shoulders and chest, fingers lightly ghosting over planes and angles in stroking lines and gentle, coaxing caresses, as if trying to memorize the form, committing it to her mind for the future, for intervals, for things much less hazy than now. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” she whispered, but granted him a cheeky, coy grin all the same; neck angled so that he had access to her, granting a gasp when his hands trailed along her bare hips, an urgency for him to do it again.
Casually insistent on maneuvering forward, with intentions of getting him, and herself, into the tub sooner rather than later, one might have marveled at her restraint, until her bra strap loosened down her shoulders. She had half a mind to take the thing off herself, but then his pants were another distraction, and Lena took another stolen breath to angle her hands towards the waistband, tugging, persistent, and incessant, a determined faction settled in the ardent desires – showing what eager covetousness existed in her being – for him.
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
The soft touch of her lips was blazing a line down his chest, muscles flexing beneath her touch, his own hands split between claiming her hips and fumbling with her bra. He grinned back, a teasing whisper while he pulled her impossibly closer with his grip on her thigh. "Probably not as long as I have." It wasn't a competition, but he was happy to tell her all the times he'd wished and wanted to get her like this, to show her exactly what kind of affect she had on him and all the ways he cared about her. That patience and gentlemanly intentionality that had stopped him before was quickly falling away with her coy smiles and wanting gasps.
His fingers finally found the clasp to release her from the restrictive bra just as Lena was tugging at his waist. In the process of rushing to assist her, Zavien took in the minefield of clothes strewn across the floor, the water threatening to run over the side of the bathtub, the unforgiving surfaces of the space so at odds with all the soft caresses and fuzzy emotions...
He stopped.
"Nope." Cupping his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her swiftly into his arms with a shake of his head then flicked off the water spicket and stepped out of the bathroom. A strained laugh followed as he struggled to explain, "I won't have our first time be in a tub." Perhaps he was too much of a romantic, having waited so long, but Zavien wouldn't - couldn't - make love to her in a sterile tiled room when there was a perfectly good bedroom down the hall.
His stride was long and hurried, hands taking turns roaming up her body in quiet revery like she was a dream he was trying to keep hold of, worried he might wake if he gripped her too hard, but unwilling to let her go. "I don't want anything between us, not even water." A deep flush sprang to his cheeks, mixing with the heat already there, not that it stopped him from saying what was on his heart as he carried them into the room, laying her atop the bed like it was a cloud made for them. "I want to feel all of you, and you all of me." Partially to disguise the red of his cheeks and partially to prove his words, Zavien started a trail of slow, methodical kisses down from the soft spot just behind her ear. Fingers skimmed the smooth skin of her ass where he'd held her, the other setting a path towards her chest, exploring and eager to please.
Releasing Lena just enough to grin down at her, the warmth of his gaze gleamed with every ounce of hope and love that swelled in his chest. "There will be plenty of time for tubs later."
She snorted halfway through a retort on that matter; considering how many times she’d tried to instigate the very motions they were going through now. Perhaps, for the moment, that scarcely mattered; so she paid more attention on her fingers slowly trailing down his pants, an audible gasp to follow when he simply said nope.
Her mouth rounded into a defiant ‘o’ within the next few instances, already riled and roused and then told to douse the flames was already a bit too much – but within the breadth of another breath when she was sorting through her emotions, she was lifted into his arms. Blinking unsteadily, her brows furrowed, mind tumbling through the confusion until he offered the statement. “Gods, Zavien, that’s really not-,”
A big deal she wanted to say. She’d have him anywhere and everywhere; not particularly picky, wanting him to be comforted by the dousing steam or the surrounding, pervading waters when they sunk into one another – but any protest died on the edge of her lips. She sighed, hooking her arms around his neck, shaking her head in amusement and trying to keep the masses together. Thereafter, instead of falling into bits of laughter at the strange barrage and tug of war they were having over location, she flounced along the bed, stretching, wholly unbothered, letting him look and preen and eyes wander to his heart’s content, in a very ‘well get on with it’ kind of sentiment, a challenge in the disposition.
As soon as his mouth roamed from her ear though, she gasped and groaned again, a delightful keen in the depths of her throat, bared immediately so that he might trail down that too. Her fingers made quick work of any remaining clothing on him, and one roamed downward, trailing down his abdomen, snagging at the breadth of muscles, while the other arched along the sinew coiled amidst his shoulders. Her legs threatened to hook around his hips immediately; but she supposed he wanted to take it far slower than what her body was craving.
