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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!
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
The room smells like salt and lavender soap, though the scent keeps losing ground to the rot-sweet tang of the Memory Mud. It’s crept halfway up the wall like some grotesque idea of ivy, glossy and pulsing faintly beneath the flicker of candlelight. Flora crouches nearby with a bucket between her knees, the sponge in her hand dripping grey water that used to be clean.
Her curls are twisted up in a loose knot to keep them out of the mess, wisps stuck damply to her temples. She’s dressed for the season—a sleeveless linen romper the colour of seafoam, hem scalloped at her thighs, gold rings and bracelets gleaming against her freckled skin. Spice sits on the windowsill behind her, puffed up and unimpressed by the mud’s slow encroachment.
Flora swipes at the wall again, grimacing when the stain only smears further. "I swear this stuff’s got opinions," she mutters, wringing the sponge out into her bucket. "How’re things in King’s End these days, mud monsters aside?" she asks over her shoulder, aqua eyes narrowing playfully at Sunjata as if he might be personally responsible for all the drama in his region.
How the room ever got like this is a mystery only Caido knows, as far as Sunjata’s concerned. They did have plenty of snow last season, but this amount of mud was far worse than he’d experienced in the years of living here, such that it makes him quietly glad he’s embodied the Flood with his use of water magic, making it easy to cut through the mud that clings to the walls like he’s a living, breathing pressure washer.
Petronella settles near Flora, the young sea panther batting at the rivers of soapy mud that she leaves behind – mewing quietly each time a big bubble passes by like it’s the biggest threat to their work (because obviously she’s helping). “Oh it does. I keep just writing fuck off into it so it might get the hint.” He rumbles, a slight annoyance in his tone as he continues to spray some water against the wall, trying to carve through the mud without damaging the wall.
“Things are good over here. Quiet without the void, finally.” He says, glancing over his shoulder toward her to offer his scarred, lopsided smile. “Honestly, though, between us? So fucking boring for me right now.” The smile breaks into a laugh as he turns back to the wall, continuing to try and get this portion of the memory mud off. “What about Torchline? You guys have a good LongNight?” He misses the bonfires and heat of Torchline’s celebrations – but it was a nearly impossible feat for this region and the snow it received.
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
Flora snickers under her breath, glancing sideways at him through a curtain of curls. "And is that working," she asks, lifting a brow as she wrings out her sponge again, "or do we need to teach the mud to read first?" The question drips with mock seriousness, but the corners of her mouth won’t stay still, tugging upward with mischief.
She hums as he talks about King’s End, the sound soft and agreeable under the steady slosh of water. "Gods, no kidding," she says, leaning closer to scrub at a stubborn patch that shivers darkly under her touch. "It's nice to be able to look at you again without it seeming like you have too many eyes and your face is melting." The teasing comes lightly, but there’s a quick glance over her shoulder that betrays genuine relief beneath it, one they likely both share.
When he mentions things being boring, her grin widens, bright and conspiratorial. "Boring, huh? Don’t tell me mom's busy with another one of her projects again." The wall gives a little beneath her next swipe, the mud thinning reluctantly. "Torchline was good, though," she adds, matter-of-fact and pleased. "No one drowned, and only a few fingers were lost to fireworks, so I’m calling that a win."
“Y’know, I think we do need to teach it to read.” Meaning, no, it isn’t working – and that makes it all that much worse to scrub away when it doesn’t get the hint. He continues to scrub with his makeshift jets of water before smoothing out the water itself to rinse the wall until finally a portion of it is clean, before he can focus on the next section he starts to have to carve through.
As for the void being gone, Sunjata can wholeheartedly agree, humming a sound of content. “Gods, it’s so nice to not flinch every time I look at someone who was infected.” A gut reaction he couldn’t snuff down regardless of how strong and powerful he became. Some things mentally couldn’t be removed.
And perhaps it adds to the fact that King’s End has become rather boring, without much else going for it or drama within. He rules it with ease, a breezy kind of hands half on and off mentality because even if it was civilized, it was still wild in parts and the people. “Ugh, she is.” He drawls a minor playful complaint. “I spent a lot of LongNight in the House of Midnight.” He admits a touch quieter, before he’s fully silent to listen to how Torchline was.
Reminiscing in the comfort of those LongNights versus being indoors like it is here, it helps his mood regarding the longest night to let him snort a response as he continues to scrub, carve, and wash. “Oh, definitely a success by Torchline’s rules.” He chuckles. People could be healed, and nobody died. Turning to look over at her as she cleans her portion of the wall, he brightens a bit more, flashing her his lopsided scarred smile. “Maybe I should try putting a bit more elbow grease into this instead of magic to make my side shine.” It’s a compliment to how clean her side is looking already compared to his – but he supposes his main goal is to scrub the thicker portion off before going over it to get the rest.
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
Flora snorts under her breath. "Surely one of your staff caters to teacher-kinks," she drawls, squeezing her sponge until muddy water drips back into the bucket, "and could come up here for a few spelling lessons." The suggestion is perfectly deadpan, though her grin betrays her amusement.
She wrinkles her nose and nods along, emphatic in her agreement. "Right? It did feel like kind of a superpower though," she says, tossing him a sly look from under her lashes. "You’d walk into a room and just...know who was infected." She shrugs as she turns back to the wall, the sponge leaving wet, glimmering trails through the last stubborn patches. "Not a superpower I miss," she admits lightly, "but hey, teeny tiny silver lining."
At the mention of Hotaru, her lips twitch into something between fondness and sympathy. The sigh that escapes her is quiet but full of understanding. "Sorry," she murmurs, glancing sideways at him with a knowing look that says she gets it—how her mother’s fixations could eclipse entire rooms. Flora could roll her eyes as a daughter, but as a partner? She can only imagine how terrible it must be for him.
His compliment draws an immediate spark of laughter, bright and delighted. "Not all of us had oodles of magic to fall back on," she teases, tossing her sponge into the bucket with a wet plop. "Tell me, though—if I channelled you to do my side as well, does it still count as my work?" The wicked grin she flashes him makes her gold rings flash too, the light catching like applause before she tilts her head, feigning innocence.
The joke lingers for a moment before she clears her throat, the motion a little too deliberate. "So..." she says, voice skating toward casual and not quite landing there, "how are...all the other residents of King’s End?" Her eyes flick toward him, then away again, pretending to be deeply invested in the wallpaper when what she really means is how is Jack?
Snorting as he continues to scrub away the mud, Sunjata can only really shake his head. “It’s a pretty common one. Most of them have got some sort of practice under their belt.” Even he’d had to do it once in a while for the random client that booked him. Either way, it wasn’t totally viable and they were here already to scrub the mud away, so in the hopes of not wasting more time, he tries to work some double time – spraying down the wall as he scrubs like he might be able to knock a chunk of it loose.
“Frey could’ve gotten rid of it for me.. But I figured having it was better than not, y’know?” He tells her of the infection sight – even if it was horrifying and lead to quite a few spirals, the Flood had survived it. They all had, thankfully. But it does remind him briefly of Niki and having seen the abandoned while they built Flora’s home, it sparks a thought in his mind that he bites his tongue against until the timing is just right.
Especially because they’re talking about Hotaru and how invested she gets in her projects, to the point where it feels like he hasn’t seen her in ages. Her apology is met with a slight shrug of understanding. “It’s not your fault.” He tells her simply and leaves it mostly at that – because it definitely wasn’t his fault either.
Thankful for the change of subject, the hum that leaves him is amused as his lopsided grin is aimed her way. “I’d count it. Just try not to do it too many times. Makes your head spin after a while.” The first time he’d been channeled he’d nearly thrown up from the sudden surprise of it. He’s thankfully gotten a stronger stomach for it since then.
Her question has multiple meanings, though, and Sunjata knows it as her tone shifts to a casual hum. She’s never asked about the residents of King’s End in such a way, so he knows it has to be because of one in particular. Such that he envelops himself in his work to hide the mischief floating in his mind. “Good. Talyson’s back home.” He hums, pretending as though it was whom she was referring to, before he washes the wall again with another spritz of water to hide the snort. “Jack is.. better than he was when he first got there. He’s not much of a talker, though.” As she’d well know. So unfortunately, there isn’t much to talk about aside from the obvious. "Just showed up and said he'd be staying here for a while. So... What happened?" He asks, pulling his attention away to cast a curious glance Flora's way with zero judgement but understanding.
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
Flora snickers softly, shaking her head as she drags her sponge down the wall in broad, sloppy strokes. "Oh, I bet," she murmurs, voice bubbling with laughter she doesn’t quite let go of. Holding out her bucket, she flashes him a quick, bright grin. "Mind topping me up with some hot water?" She wrinkles her nose as though personally offended by the mud’s tenacity.
When he mentions Frey, she hums in quiet agreement, her gaze softening. "Yeah. I get that," she says simply, then exhales a small sigh, inadvertently echoing Sunjata's own thoughts on the matter: "It isn't your fault, either." The words are gentle but firm, as if she means for him to hear them—really hear them—even over the squelch of mud and the steady splash of water.
Her grin returns when the conversation lightens again. "I was actually talking to Melita about channelling," she says, brightening. "Promised I’d see what it was like for her after." The memory makes her wrinkle her nose, and she scrubs a bit harder. "Actually, she got channelled at LongNight and nearly drowned when her wild magic went haywire. Took a nap on top of the ocean." She glances over with a look that’s half exasperation, half affection.
When Sunjata mentions Tal, Flora hums, chipper as can be as if that was who she'd been wondering about. "Oh! That’s good," she says too quickly, scrubbing like her life depends on it. But at the name that follows, her rhythm falters, strokes slowing until the sponge just rests uselessly in her hand. Jack. The sound of it cracks something small and fragile in her chest. She forces a swallow, throat tightening, wondering what exactly he’d told Jata—if anything at all—and what that silence means.
Her arm drops, and she exhales slowly, staring at the wall but not seeing it anymore. "We’d been broken up for a while," she begins, her voice thin around the edges. "After what happened with Dahlia, he was furious with me, and it just..ended." The words land like stones, one after another. "But then the masquerade happened, we—" she swallows again, sighs, sets her sponge down with a quiet thud. "We hooked up. And then just...kinda kept randomly sleeping together."
She rubs at her wrist absently, smearing a streak of mud across her skin without noticing. "He told me he couldn’t keep doing that. Said he wanted to get back together." Her voice trembles slightly before she steadies it. "We both said we’d try. That we’d be better this time, especially with his telepathy, because that really..." Her breath catches, her hand curling around the edge of the bucket if having to remind herself that yes, she was allowed to mention Jack's telepathy to Sunjata. "It really fucked us up."
Tears rise before she can blink them away, blurring the wall into soft, watery light. "I asked him if he could make me happy," she says quietly. Looking up at Sunjata, she forces a shaky laugh, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. "He didn’t say yes. Didn’t even try to lie, just said it wasn’t up to him. That he’d try harder than he had before." The ache in her chest deepens, old wounds protesting their reopening. She shakes her head quickly, as if it might scatter the memories back into silence. "Maybe it was stupid of me," she whispers, scrubbing at the wall again without purpose. "To focus on that so much. But I loved him so much, but I just—" Her voice falters, breaks. "I wasn’t happy." Not the way that, in the brief interim he'd been allowed to, Kaisel had shown her how happy she really could be.
She glances over guiltily, eyes rimmed with saltwater. "I was supposed to meet him, but I wrote him a letter saying I couldn’t do it again and then he was just...gone." Her voice softens until it’s barely more than breath. "He just left Torchline." Floar's hands are still now, fingers wet and trembling, as she shrugs. "Anyway. That's what happened."
At the request of the hot water, the Flood turns slightly toward her, sparking more of that water magic in his veins and changing the temperature to heat it up and fill her bucket with some fresh, clean, hot water before they settle back in to scrub at their respective walls. At least his section is finally starting to look like a wall again – enough that he can see the damp wallpaper beneath it that he’s sure will dry without a problem (he hopes).
“That’s true.” He comments quietly about the fact that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault for Ru’s hyperfixations, but he can’t hide the slow exhale from his nose as if cementing the fact that it wasn’t him, and at least he could manage the loneliness with the occasional client that books him at the House.
Hearing Flora talk about channeling and Melita is a good distraction, though, snorting slightly until she mentions she took a nap on top of the ocean and his head whips toward her with shock and surprise. “Well, at least she’s got that water walking ability.” He sighs, glad that his niece hadn’t just fucking drowned. “I’ll check in with her and be an annoying uncle about it. Thanks.” He says with a warm, accented laugh, rolling his eyes playfully before the conversation grows more playful before horribly serious.
She scrubs at the wall like it might have offended her and she’s trying to wipe the stain away as he offers what unfortunately little information about Jack he knows. And when he turns the question back onto her, he’s silent – listening to the story in a way that almost seems reminiscent of his own mistakes made in his youth. Not that he’s free of them now, of course, but he makes far less these days than he had before she was born.
At the mention of the telepathy, though, he nods understandingly, washing the wall before he turns to step over toward her – helping her with the wall in little jets of water while his other hand wraps around her shoulders to pull her into his chest for a hug that it seems like she really needs. He knows it isn’t as good as one from her mother, but she hopes his extension might help a little more than having nothing. “Maybe that’s for the best, though? You deserve happiness. And.. Y’know, if you’re getting more pain than you are pleasure, it’s not really worth it.” His nose wrinkles as he flashes her a small lopsided smile. “Take it from someone who’s really fucking good at punishing himself; No matter what shitty thing you’ve done in the past, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. Chase after it until you have it and don’t settle for less, yeah?”
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
Flora’s lips twitch faintly, an almost-smile that doesn’t quite make it past the ache in her chest. She glances over her shoulder at him, eyes flicking toward his bucket and then back to the mud-streaked wall. "Anything I can do to help?" she asks, voice soft, knowing that likely there was nothing, especially not as Hotaru's daughter, but wanting to ask just the same.
When he startles at her mention of Melita, Flora lets out a light laugh, the sound thin but genuine. "Yeah, we channelled her back after, just to make sure she was okay," she says, wringing the sponge again, carefully skipping over the part about Kaisel; about how stupid and reckless it had been to channel someone in the middle of the ocean, like Mel would suddenly float just because she’d borrowed a bit of divine juice. It’s funny in hindsight, but hadn't been in the moment.
When Sunjata’s arms come around her, the sponge slips forgotten into the bucket. She folds into him instinctively, pressing her face against his chest. He’s solid and steady, his heartbeat an anchor she can cling to, and for a moment she thinks maybe she could just disappear here; just let his warmth swallow all the sharp edges she’s been carrying. She exhales shakily, the sound muffled by his shirt, and her hands clutch lightly at the fabric near his ribs. Gods, she’s so grateful for him.
A small, quiet sniffle escapes before she can stop it. "It’s probably naive," she murmurs, her voice thick, "but I always thought if you made the right choices, they weren’t supposed to hurt so bad." She shrugs lightly against him, a motion that trembles more than she wants it to. Tilting her chin up, she presses her lips into a thin, tight line before adding, "But nothing’s ever hurt like that. Not when I died." Her breath hitches. "Not even when Enzo did." Because she’d known she could get Enzo back. But Jack—once that letter left her hands—she’d known she was never getting him back again. Doubted if he'd ever look at her in the eyes or speak to her again.
When he tells her not to settle for less, she looks up at him, eyes glistening but steady now, and something shifts behind the shine; something resolute and gentle all at once. "You too," she says softly, nudging him in the ribs, her voice breaking just slightly around the words.
The offer is immensely appreciated – even if there’s nothing neither of them can do. As such, the Flood flashes her a small kind of somber smile before he shakes his head and sighs a little. “Nah, I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do.” And he certainly isn’t going to ask her to guide more traffic to the House of Midnight just so he has a distraction. So he settles, focusing on the mention of Melita and the realization they’d channeled her twice.
Not only was it the nap, but there was the immediate return channel that Sunjata’s brows lift and a small huff of a laugh leaves him, shaking his head again. “Not the whiplash, too.” He complains, making sure that he does check in with her. He can’t imagine how awful it was. “Glad she was okay, though.” Even if he’s pretty sure he would have thrown up had it been done to him back to back.
Those thoughts die quickly, though, as she explains and he turns his attention away from the wall to Flora, wrapping an arm around her to pull her in close against his chest, letting her get out any lingering emotions that she’s kept buried deep, being an anchor amongst the uncertain and unsteady waves.
“I’m sure.” He says with a small frown, pressing his scarred cheek in against the queen’s crown. “Right choices can hurt, but I think it’s more of a… Take the hurt now or take a prolonged hurt for choosing the wrong choice.” Were the smaller hurts over a span of time better or worse than the pain she’d endured for making her choice? “I hurt just as much when Haai was killed as I was when I lost Nate. It’s a lot of the reason I didn’t seek your mother out for the longest time because I wasn’t sure I could handle it again.” And maybe it helps or maybe it doesn’t, but a certain amount of hurt had burrowed its way into his soul and regardless of the things he tried to fill it with, if you looked too long at it you’d realize it was still empty. A mirage of feelings and emotions to pretend like it doesn’t still ache even all these years past.
When she finds the resolution and gentleness in her bones and peers up at him, nudging him in the ribs, he huffs a small sound of slight amusement before his hand comes up to cover his ribs as if her nudge had cut through his demigod strength. “Thanks, Flora.” He murmurs before he squeezes her lightly. “Now, you want some more help on your wall?” He asks, tilting his gaze so he can take in the wall she’d been cleaning and whether or not there’s any portions that need assistance.
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
Flora opens her mouth like she might argue, but laughter bubbles out instead, soft and a little watery. "Better whiplash than finding out she passed out on the beach somewhere," she says, shaking her head. The image of Melita face-down in the sand draws another laugh from her, lighter this time, the sound lifting through the steam rising off the hot water he’s conjured.
When Sunjata pulls her close, she lets herself go boneless against him, cheek pressed to the solid warmth of his chest. It’s easier not to fight it, easier to let him hold the weight she can’t quite scrub away. She nods, slow and sad, because she knows it’s childish—to think doing the right thing should mean the path would glow clean and easy, all sunshine and applause. Choices don’t work that way; she knows that now, in the ache between breaths.
Her gaze lifts when he talks about Haai and Nate, lashes still damp. She frowns softly, blinking back fresh tears. She’s never lost someone like that, not a bond burned out of her chest, but she knows the emptiness he means. The way it sets up shop in your ribs and refuses to leave. After Enzo, she’d done the same thing: locked every door she had and called it independence.
A quiet sniff escapes her before she speaks again, her voice small enough to almost get lost in his shirt. "I made a room for him," she admits, swallowing thickly. "For Jack. In my house." The confession trembles out of her, barely above a whisper. "He’s never seen it, and probably never will, but I can’t bring myself to empty it out or use it for anything else." Her eyes drop, fixed on the wall, on the way the mud slides sluggishly down the plaster as if it’s listening too.
When Sunjata pretends her nudge hurt, the corner of her mouth twitches, and this time the smile that blooms is real, small but sincere. She sniffles once, then chuckles, the sound half laugh, half sigh. "Hmmm," she says, nodding toward the stubborn smear of mud still clinging near the baseboard. "Think any of your clientele might have a thing for muddy walls?"
“Yeah that’s fair.” Sunjata chuckles softly – still figuring he should reach out to her and seeing how she’s doing now that she’s been channeled a few times (at the very least, maybe she’ll have more stories appearing aside from the one where she’d appeared before LongNight and dropped ducks on him in his hydra shift).
But those thoughts die for the seriousness of the conversation – of two people hurting despite the bravado and attempts to prove to everyone else otherwise. It’s the least he can do to share some of her burden, even if he tries desperately to not let her shoulder any of his. “Sometimes it’s better that way.” He murmurs – about the room to Jack. “It can be a place to mourn what you guys had. Maybe one day you’ll be able to clean it up, but you don’t have to.” He still has his section full of Nate’s things that he couldn’t part from. Granted, the Ascended was long gone, but the idea was the same.
A loss of a relationship was still a loss and worth grieving. Sunjata knows better than most about that.
So he tries to make her smile by pretending her nudge hurt, wincing with a huff of a sound, letting a soft accented laugh join hers as he glances back at the smear near the baseboard. “Oh, y’know what? There is someone.” He says as he scrunches his nose up, wrinkling slightly as he hides the continued laugh. “He’s got a thing for being a maid. Maybe it’d be enough to get him out here and we can make him finish up and go get dinner, huh?”
Sunjata
// gracing your skin with the side of my hand //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house
The fact that Sunjata doesn’t tell her to move on or offer to help clean the room out—doesn’t treat it like something broken that needs fixing—means more than Flora can say. The breath she releases is shaky, but it carries something lighter with it, some quiet uncoiling of gratitude. She leans back into him again, letting her arms slip around his middle and squeeze, small but fierce. "Thanks," she murmurs against his chest, the word soft as seafoam before she straightens again, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes.
His laugh about the mud earns a grin that flashes quick and real, tugging her back toward warmth. "Oh my gods, yes," she says, seizing the idea like it’s salvation. With zero hesitation, she drops her sponge straight into the bucket with a dramatic splash, hands going to her hips as if declaring herself officially done.
"Dinner sounds great," she declares, all bright energy now, her voice carrying that familiar tilt of humour that always rushes in to fill the cracks. Spice chitters from her perch on the windowsill as if agreeing, tail flicking like punctuation, and Flora grins at the dragon before looking back at Sunjata as she gets to her feet, already imagining what she might have for dessert.
