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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!
Isla had sent the missive via a raven that morning, watching it wheel across the sky towards the Northaven in the distance with a faint smile that fails to entirely hide her nerves. She'd assured Ever that she would be fine to make the trip alone - it isn't as though she's suddenly too fragile to function - and though the morning had been a little bumpy especially now there's no need to hide her nausea, as she leaves for the teahouse she's clearly feeling much better.
The sky is cloudy today but not actively threatening rain, though she keeps an umbrella hooked over her arm just in case, and she's opted for a warm, deep blue sweater dress and a light jacket. The sea breeze tugs a few curls loose from her bun, Isla peeking each way down the boardwalk before stepping into the shelter of the teahouse entrance to wait for Remi. She half expects him to simply appear using his magic, braced for it just in case.
Remi doesn’t appear out of thin air the way Isla half-expects; instead there’s the brief flicker of red against the cloudy sky, a small shape cutting neatly through the sea-salt air as it skims along the boardwalk before angling down toward the teahouse. The Rarog’s wings beat faster as it closes the distance, and just as it reaches her side the magic unspools, feathers becoming skin and bone and familiar warmth in a smooth, well-practised shift.
The Bastion straightens into himself beside her, curls left lightly wind-tossed from the flight and cheeks pinked by the effort, his faded chambray shirt carrying the faint scent of salt and vanilla. There’s no jacket, no umbrella, no sign he gave the weather a second thought at all as he leans in without hesitation, one hand sliding around Isla's lower back to draw her near, his mouth brushing a kiss against her cheek with the quiet affection of long familiarity. A soft chuckle follows as he straightens again, sea glass green eyes warm as they search her face.
"I figured if something was wrong, you would have come to the Northaven instead of asking me out for tea," he says with a chuckle, his thumb giving a small, reassuring press at her back as if to underline that he’s here now, regardless of the reason.
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Oh," Isla says as she spots the little crimson blur out of the corner of her eye, smiling automatically and leaning out from under the awning to watch Remi skim the air and flit ever closer. His shift back is, as always, both seamless and strangely endearing, and as he straightens up beside her, all mussed curls and pink cheeks, the affection that floods through her is immediate. "Hello, Rem-- oh, wait--"
She's too late to stop him from leaning in, though, and whilst everything Isla feels is coloured by her immediate pleasure in seeing her friend, it doesn't entirely cover the trepidation, the uncertainty, the strange excitement she's still trying to understand, and as his lips brush her cheek they're already pink with being prematurely found out. "Nothing wrong, no," she tells him, not shying away from the embrace now that he's already there.
"I do have some news to share with you, though. Shall we go inside?" Unless he's already guessed by the flood of her emotions alone, which wouldn't surprise her.
For a heartbeat it is only the familiar warmth of her cheek beneath his lips, the easy affection he has never once needed to question—not for several years anyway—and then his magic blooms to life whether he wants it to or not. Emotion hits him in a rush of colour so sudden it almost steals his breath; soft blues threaded with sea-glass green, bright with relief and fondness, but tangled through with warmer tones that have no business being there, rose and gold and something sharper, uncertain, flickering like light caught in glass. Nerves prickle along the edges, excitement hums beneath it, and beneath everything there is a tremor of vulnerability that makes his chest tighten before his mind can catch up.
Remi pulls back on instinct, blinking down at Isla in surprise as though the world has shifted a fraction out of place. For a moment his hand remains at her lower back, fingers spreading there without thought, protective and steady even as his expression stills, trying to sort feeling from assumption. He searches her face quietly, curls still ruffled by the flight, breath just a touch deeper than before.
Thinking that perhaps Everest had finally proposed and that maybe Isla was uncertain about it, he'll release her with a smile and a nod. "Of course," he says softly, already angling toward the teahouse door. "Let’s go inside."
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
A shape moves along the edge of the treeline, half-hidden by shadow and heat shimmer. A Sear Cat slips into view, its sleek body low to the ground as it prowls, muscles rolling beneath scorched fur with every deliberate step.
It does not rush. Instead, it stalks the area with patient precision, pausing to sniff at the air or rake a claw lightly through the sand. Its eyes never stop moving, sharp and alert, as though cataloguing every sound and motion nearby.
After a time, it circles wider, never fully leaving sight, its presence lingering like a threat unspoken. Whether it closes the distance or fades back into cover is left unresolved, its slow prowl continuing just beyond easy reach.
Sear Cat
Areas Found: Torchline — Uncommon
Cousins of the Cat Sith, Sear Cats appear to be large, generally fluffy house cats. However, they are blessed with the ability of limited-speech and precognition and, as such, they are a highly sought after companion - but good luck with that, or getting straight answers. They are cats, after all. They are found most often on ships due to their ability to predict oncoming storms.
Challenge Rating: Moderate | Mythical
HP: 394 | To Hit: +55 | Dmg: 15 Movement: Walk 40 ft.; Climb 30 ft.; Leap 20 ft.
SPECIAL SKILLS
Storm Augury: reliably forewarns squalls, gales, and sudden shifts in wind and tide; Chooser, Not Chosen: resists coercion; bonds only with those it deems worthy; Omen Tail: tail-flick patterns and ear angles convey specific warnings once learned by the crew
TRAITS
Limited Speech: can manage short, clear phrases and names; Precognitive Whiskers: subtle tells warn of shifting fate and oncoming storms; Sea Legs: sure-footed on rigging, rails, and wet deck planks; Night Eyes: sees cleanly in dim cabins and moonlit seas; Aloof Cunning: offers help on its own terms and only when it pleases
ACTIONS
Weather Ward: curls up in a specific location and emits a low, thrumming purr that seems to subtly calm seas or steady winds for a short time; Storm Yowl: a rising, eerie call that alerts a ship to imminent rough weather; Rigging Vanish: disappears into ropes and spars, reappearing in a better vantage moments later; Pawed Point: taps or stares fixedly at a chart, line, or horizon feature to indicate danger or opportunity
Gazing back up at Remi, her expression open and waiting, when he doesn't immediately give potential reasons behind what he's inevitably felt from her, she merely offers a small smile to him and nods, heading immediately for the door. The Sear Cat prowling nearby catches in her peripheral vision, Isla tilting her head to watch the feline go about its business for a second or two, before she leaves it to its adventures and ducks into the teahouse.
Warm inside and smelling of spice and sweetness, Isla is already shrugging out of her jacket and asking for a table for the two of them. The server responds with an immediate smile, leading them to a pretty little space before one of the windows that the Remedy is certain is due to Remi's presence at her side, but today she doesn't even remember to poke fun at him for it. Instead, softly clearing her throat and taking her seat, she waits only until the server has left them to peruse the menu before putting them both out of their misery.
"You're my best friend," she says softly, "and so I wanted you to be one of the first people to know. But I'm also really nervous about this and I need someone to tell me it's going to be okay, so if you can do that for me, I'd be really grateful." Skipping in a breath and shrugging her shoulders, as if there's no other way to present it, Isla blurts out, "I'm going to have a baby, Remi."
Remi follows Isla inside without comment, nodding politely as they are ushered toward the window, though he barely registers the view beyond the glass. Haulani could fall away entirely and he might not notice; his attention is fixed on the Remedy with a focus that is gentle but absolute, the way it almost always is with her. He waits until they are seated, until the server has retreated and the moment has narrowed to just the two of them and the soft clink of cups and menus.
When she starts with you’re my best friend, something tightens low in his chest. That is not how easy conversations begin, and his smile softens into something more careful as he swallows. Without interrupting, he reaches across the table and turns his hand palm-up, offering it to her in quiet invitation rather than insistence, knowing what it would mean for her to take it, but wanting to offer just the same. "Whatever it is," he begins gently, voice low and steady, "it will be alri—"
And then she says it. A baby.
The word lands like a wave breaking clean over his head. Remi’s sea-glass eyes widen before he can stop them, surprise written plainly across his face as his jaw parts in disbelief, breath catching somewhere between shock and awe. For a fraction of a second he simply stares at her, too stunned to do anything more than breathe. "It—it will be okay," he says immediately, and of course it would be okay, he knows that even as his thoughts scramble, but—a baby? A laugh slips out of him under his breath, soft and apologetic, more reflex than humour, as he drags a hand briefly through his curls.
"That’s...Isla, that’s.." He exhales, shaking his head with a stunned smile that is already warming into something brighter. "Congratulations," he adds quickly, sincerely, affection threading easily through the surprise. After a moment, his brow lifts just slightly, curiosity and careful concern mingling there as he tilts his head. "I didn’t realise you and Everest had been trying," he admits, eyes searching her face, waiting gently for her to confirm that the baby was indeed Ever's.
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Isla takes his hand immediately, of course, because even if things won't be alright, no part of her doubts that Remi will be able to make it feel okay regardless. Her fingers are warm, but that's more because of what she is than how she's feeling, and Ancients aren't renowned for being cold and clammy unless things are far more wrong than a pregnancy. Her smile flinches, uncertain at first, though as he speaks beyond the initial shock of her announcement, the relief that floods through his magic will be immediate.
"Yeah?" she says, exhaling a shaky breath that she feels like she's been holding for days. "I... thank you. Sorry, I just..." Laughing now as well and feeling tears start to well up in her eyes again (hormones, what are you gonna do?) Isla gives his hand a gentle squeeze and scoffs, shaking her head in response to his last remark. "That's because we weren't," she says. "We were careful, always. We put it down to my connection to Dygra and... y'know, chaos being what it is." Code for yes Remi, good gods, the baby is Ever's.
"Which is why I wanted you to tell me it's not a bad thing," she adds, sniffing and resisting the urge to grab one of the sugar cubes to pop it straight into her mouth. "Obviously it was a shock for both of us, but I wasn't sure how Ever was going to take it, so..." So she's been holding a lot of it in, as is painfully clear now. "He's been great by the way, before you ask. With me, with the news, all of it."
Remi exhales as Isla’s fingers press into his, relief moving through him so quickly it almost steals his breath, and his hand closes around hers with an easy, affectionate certainty. "Yeah," he says immediately, without hesitation or qualification, his voice warm and steady. "Of course it’s okay."
The clarification that follows—unintentional, chaotic, UnEqUIvOcaLLy Ever’s—draws a soft huff of incredulous amusement from him, the corner of his mouth lifting as he squeezes her hand again. There’s something almost fond in it, a recognition of how these things tend to happen despite the best planning in the world. "Ahh, I see," he says gently, boyish humour flickering through the words. "But no. No, it’s not a bad thing. Not even a little."
He swallows then, shoulders lifting in a small, rueful shrug as memory brushes close. "For as complicated and...difficult as Enzo and Flora’s conception and birth were," he admits quietly, "I wouldn’t trade either of them for anything. Not for a simpler path, not for an easier life. They’re worth every hard part that came with them."
At the mention of Everest being good and supportive, Remi doesn’t bother hiding the sideways smirk that slips into place, amusement and relief mingling easily there. "I’m glad," he says, genuinely if a little surprised. "And you know this, but I’ll say it anyway, you always have me, and Ronin. If either of you need anything at all."
He tilts his head slightly then, thoughtful curiosity taking over as his brows knit. "Do you have any idea when you’re due?" The question trails for a moment before he clarifies, not wanting to sound like more of an idiot than Isla already thought of him as. "I just mean with you being an Ancient. Will that make things go faster, or slower or...any different to how it normally does?"
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Oh good," Isla says, a little giddy now that a third party is confirming that not only is everything okay, but that it might actually be good, the Remedy having to school herself to stop squeezing Remi's hand so hard even if she knows he'll barely feel it. "I don't think I realised how much I needed someone to say that to me. It means even more coming from you," she says, sincerity drawing her voice low, her free hand coming up to wipe at her eyes.
Warmth blooms fresh within her as he recalls Flora and Enzo, as he assures her that she's got the support of both Taliesins, and gods, the relief it brings is almost enough to have further tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you," she says, glancing sidelong at the server who begins to approach and decides on a strategic beeline elsewhere as if realising they are very much not ready to order just yet.
As for when she's due, now it's Isla's turn for her smile to turn wry, and she's just about to give Remi the birds and the bees talk when he clarifies his point, and her brow furrows suddenly as if he's just tried to place a curse on her. "What do you mean faster? Wait, what do you mean, slower?" she says. "I don't... I mean, I assumed that Ancients worked the same way that everyone else did in that respect? But..." But also Dygra is responsible for her contraceptive failure, so what's to stop her pregnancy from progressing at whatever rate chaos deems necessary?
"Remi, stop talking before I throw up," Isla says abruptly, as if either possibility is unpalatable right this second.
Remi gives Isla's hand another gentle squeeze, grounding and warm, and even without words the rush of feeling through her is unmistakable to him, blooming in overlapping hues that blur together rather than clash. Relief comes first, pale and luminous, threaded through with something bright and almost giddy, the sort of colour that only shows up when a weight has finally been set down. Beneath it there is still anxiety, darker and more restless, but it no longer dominates the whole canvas, and that alone has him smiling softly at her.
He feels the spike of surprise ripple through her when he voices the thought aloud, and his mouth twists into a faint grimace, shoulders lifting in an apologetic shrug as the realisation lands that this might not have been something she had considered yet, despite being not only a doctor but an ancient. "Errr..." he says, deeply unhelpful, the sound trailing off as he spreads one hand helplessly, brows raised in an expression that is half sheepish and half ruefully honest.
When she tells him to stop talking, he immediately raises his free hand in surrender, lips pressing together as he nods in quick, exaggerated agreement. "Right. Yes. Stopping," he promises, even as the corner of his mouth twitches. After a heartbeat, though, he can’t quite help himself, lowering the hand just enough to add, "But—only if you want—maybe we could go to a shrine and ask Dygra directly? Or," he adds, voice lightening a touch, "I could always bring down Vai? I doubt death has stopped her from learning all about these sorts of things."
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
12-30-2025, 01:19 PM (This post was last modified: 12-30-2025, 01:26 PM by Isla.)
Isla
"Mmhm," Isla says, her brows still threatening towards a scowl, though as the seconds stretch on and she's able to - partially, at least - set the matter aside, her expression softens into something evidently safe enough for the server to approach them at last. Isla orders herself a pot of spiced chai tea and a truly obnoxious slice of cake to go with it, waiting for Remi to place his own order before settling back again to consider his sneakily additional point.
"I have been meaning to speak to Dygra," she admits, "but I can already almost imagine her saying that what will be will be. She doesn't seem the type for predictability, does she?" Wincing, Isla sits back in her chair and brushes a few loose curls back behind her ears. "Do you think Vai would know anything about Ancients?" she asks. "I was going to ask Ever's mother in Stormbreak since she's a nurse, and... I don't know, maybe I'll just have to get regular check ups to see how things are going?"
Glancing down at her stomach as if the baby will be able to give its own opinion on when it will decide to show up, Isla eventually huffs out a laugh and shrugs her shoulders. "As if things weren't already surprising enough, right?"
sooner or later, we all have to wake and try forgetting everything
Remi orders green tea and then adds a small assortment of meats and cheeses almost as an afterthought, entirely unaware of the irony that will only become apparent later. When the server departs again, he settles back in his chair, one elbow resting lightly on the table as he turns his attention fully back to Isla.
At the mention of Dygra, he can only shrug. "I’ve never actually seen her," Remi admits. "But no, from what I have heard you are probably right." He hums softly as she brings up Vai, considering it. "In life? Probably not," he says after a moment. "But Ancients die too, and I imagine she’s learned a great deal from the ones who’ve passed through Mort’s realm. What else is there to do?" Another small shrug follows. "If you wanted, I could always try calling Mort down." An overthetop gesture, perhaps, but one he'd happily make for her.
When Isla mentions Everest’s mother, Remi clears his throat, colour rising faintly into his cheeks as he nods. "Tobi might," he says, then pauses, correcting himself with a quiet exhale. " know her well or...did. Ever's father and I have...history. " The discomfort is brief but unmistakable, his fingers curling lightly against the tabletop before he continues, gentler now. "She’s good, though. Thorough."
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"Whilst I appreciate it more than you know, I don't think it's necessary for the god of all death to come and confirm the due date for my child. It clearly won't be tomorrow, so..." She gestures down at herself as if to say or I should fucking hope not, offering the Bastion a wry smile that falters as he mentions Finn and Tobi. Reaching out to cover his hand with her own, she nods towards him. "I know she is," she says gently. "And I trust her. It'll be her grandchild, after all," she points out, because the connections are inevitable even if they might be uncomfortable for Remi to swallow down.
"I'm also a doctor," she reminds him, grinning now. "A doctor with a clinic, and more than one medic working beneath me. I'm sure whatever happens, there will be plenty of skilled hands to make sure we know as much as we can about whoever is growing in there." Squeezing his hand before withdrawing her own as the tea arrives, Isla reaches out to pour herself a cup before meeting Remi's gaze again. "Thank you, though. I'm grateful to have you. And of course you can tell Ronin, by the way. We're keeping it to just a few people for now, but I know there's no chance of you keeping it secret from Ronin even if you wanted to."
