Click here for a list of weather descriptions, seasonal festivals, and a real time:site time conversion.
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!
04-12-2026, 02:53 PM (This post was last modified: 04-12-2026, 02:53 PM by Fern.)
Got the dreamer's disease
Well assured that the chicken plan will be carried out to its full extent of approval, Fern has no issue slipping from that topic to the much more hands-on one. Though she does carefully track the way Isla places down the chicken, leaning faintly to better see past the door frame and observe the arrangement of meat. It feels properly close enough for her liking, wishing it would be inside even to keep the sear cat warm and cozy too, but since the focus is on feeding, she decides that will be sufficient. Maybe tomorrow she can bring up the warmth problem. Nodding, as if an approval clearance of her rank is needed for Isla's task to be complete, and not merely as an extra stamp being added alongside the necessary one, Fern can properly rest now.
Ever has already decidedly gone to his basket, and as he lifts the ball out Fern's features grow much without her consent into something wider and eager. Despite this being purely for training purposes, it does seem fun. Bending down to claim the ball he lays out, she glances over at Isla, and then follows the sight of her arm. "Isn't the point of fetch that he brings it back?" she asks with a newfound uncertainty. "Wouldn't throwing it less far be better, then?" Although, her father is a pro, so she assumes he could fetch this out of many manner of distance and struggle. The sear cat though, he'll need underhand toss even, or a slow bowling-style roll, and nothing too difficult to start with.
Practicing what that might look like, Fern stays low to the ground and so gently nudges the ball back towards Ever that it scracely rolls at all before the momentum dies out and it wiggles to a stop. "Fetch!" Fern calls out brightly, as if the word alone is the magic here.
Everest’s attention follows Isla as she steps out onto the balcony, his body remaining anchored beside Fern but his head turning just enough to track the movement, ears still alert as the shifting air carries the scent of the shredded chicken back into the room. His nose lifts slightly, drawing it in, and he licks his lips once without thinking, though he makes no move toward it, holding his position with quiet discipline even as the smell lingers temptingly at the edge of his awareness.
Fern’s question about distance registers, though he does not interrupt, watching instead as she lowers herself and experiments with the motion, the ball barely rolling forward before losing momentum. He remains exactly where he is, resisting the instinct to close the gap prematurely, because the instruction has not yet been given and the parameters of the activity, however loosely defined, are still being established.
As she tells him to fetch, his tail lifts and begins to wag with immediate enthusiasm, the command acting as a clear signal that overrides the earlier restraint, and he springs forward in a controlled but eager motion, pouncing on the ball with precise timing. He scoops it up cleanly before lowering his head to place it directly at her feet, not dropping it haphazardly but setting it down with the same careful exactness as before, his gaze lifting to her again as his tail continues its steady, hopeful rhythm, ready for the next instruction.
Your eyes they take no prisoners But I'd love to be your visitor
Unable to hide her smile or her laughter, even behind her hand, Isla watches with clear amusement as Fern technically rolls the ball, though she's not certain that it goes far enough to be considered a game of fetch. Nevertheless, Ever swoops in with all the precision and enthusiasm expected from a canine, and she's left gently shrugging her shoulders to their daughter. "Fetch is also a good way for dogs to get exercise," she points out. Not the same as sear cats, no, but then Ever is very much not a sear cat right now.
"So the farther you throw it, the more he will need to run to bring it back. Between the two of us though," Isla adds, lowering her voice despite knowing the aviator will be able to hear everything perfectly in his current shape, "I don't think he much minds, as long as you keep telling him to fetch it." Straightening back up and stepping to the side to give father and daughter space to play, Isla merely watches for a few minutes, feeling something warm and right shift into place within her at the sight of her little family.
There is a surprising surge of delight at witnessing the coiled potential in Ever's attentive form, every fiber of him straining for obedience and precision. That he surges into action at her behest is a thrilling sense of command that at once sparks a bright laugh, the sound ringing out over the clap of her hands as Ever pounces with an unmatched accuracy and gusto.
Her eyes lock with his briefly as she stoops down to reclaim the neatly returned ball, not minding the added wetness to its surface. The excitement brimming just beneath his fur, expelled with the steady wave of his tail, echoes through Fern with a grin. Her attention tilts up towards Isla as she clutches the ball carefully in her hand, contemplating the power of such an ordinary thing and the rules of this simple exchange. "Oh, he brings it back to throw it again because he wants to run," she murmurs, trying out the understanding for herself. She glances down as she rolls the ball around in her palm, thumb brushing over the texture. "I can understand that." Youth giving her spurts of energy that equate to the 'zoomies' in dogs, though this understanding would mature into something else in time, as she personally learns more and zooms less. Because nature ought to always be preserving energy, it's the root of most behaviors and designs, and with Ever not being a youth testing out skills for the first time, fetch doesn't make a lot of natural sense in terms of efficiency.
"Okay, let's see how well you do this time dad," she hums, glancing up at Isla with a conspirator's nod before cranking back her hand and launching her arm. The ball sails across the room, Fern mindful not to aim at the areas she was cautioned to avoid, but certainly more distance and challenge than her last attempt. Though, she notes with a wrinkle to her nose, that the ball did not land exactly where she aimed. Throwing requires a bit more consideration and calculation than something as simple as walking. She'd continue to test out her aim and Ever's retrieval until they both tired. Fade out to fetch.
