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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!
Erebos started humming one of the little songs about magic Evie had taught him, giggling every time the verse changed into something infinitely more humorous. His head swung around rapidly too, but not upon any source of threats or apprehension like his father might’ve held – instead it was out of the sheer wonder of the world around them, that little promise nestled in his chest of exploring the regions, of gaining every sight and every sound in his vast array of curiosity.
Eventually though, they made their way towards where he’d thought it’d be nice to place the lanterns, using the long strings and strands and Deimos’ silent directions to guide him along. Standing back and surveying the way they barely tipped, he patted himself on the back for a job well done, then started looking around again.
“Food next!” he declared, but he knew Deimos had other things to accomplish – so his glance went along and along once more, finding some beacons of familiarity, and then another kid, though slightly older – and out of impulse, he waved to Fern, as if there was solidarity in youthful ignorance.
He tensed as another shriek lit up across the sky, his hand tightening around Sohalia's as he took a deep breath to steady the race of his heart. Everything felt disjointed. He was teetering on the edge of something, caught between two lives - two loves. It wasn't fair to either of them. Lena hadn't deserved to die when she had so much to live for. Soh didn't deserve to have their relationship defined by that loss.
And yet, Zavien could barely think past that last moment, remembering the pain on her face, imagining the screams...
Water dropped from his hair onto his forehead, feeling distant from his focus on the Mathair's branches around them, the various lanterns dotting them in the darker corner of the Festival. The music barely reached out here, a quiet echo of revelry and laughter that didn't reflect in the mournful expression he wore, the soft glow of his lanterns, darkening the green of his eyes. One held the bright sun motifs of his mother - a reminder to smile. Meanwhile, the other was stitched with plants, flowers, and the distant silhouettes of birds - a calm wish for peace.
Swallowing back a swell of emotions, he stopped under a small tree, the branches empty of leaves. For a moment, he didn't move, not ready to place the lanterns, to set his grief out for all to see, nervous of the possibility he'd have a chance to see either of them again.
Don't try to wake me up Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow
In truth, Soh hadn't known whether Zavien would want her company for this, not when one of the lanterns he carried was for his first love, lost far too soon to this world. In another life, they might still be together - something that lingered in the back of Soh's mind as they walked through the forest hand-in-hand. If Lena had lived, they wouldn't be here like this, and a part of Soh felt horribly guilty for daring to be happy when it was the direct result of her friend's death.
Another shriek lit the sky, and Zavien's hand tightened around hers. She squeezed back, hoping the gesture was a reassuring one. They hadn't said much since arriving. Perhaps they didn't need to. Zavien, she knew, was lost to his grief and his guilt, and as much as it bothered her that she couldn't be of help to him right now, she understood.
In her free hand, she carried several lanterns: two for her parents, simply decorated in swirls of light and color; one for Harper, who had been so close to a fatherly figure for her, before he'd died; and one for Lena, who had been a good friend to her and who Soh had failed to be there for in the end. The latter two were decorated with animals indicative of her friends' shifts, painstakingly painted by her own hand.
They came to a stop beneath a small tree, away from the festivities in a darker corner of the festival. Soh remained a quiet, supportive shadow at Zavien's side, not moving to place her own lanterns until he did so first.
---
Soh brings lanterns for her parents, Lena, and Harper. Her viable lantern for selection is for Harper.
Don't believe anything you say anymore In the morn, in the morning
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Sohalia.
// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
As per usual, Asta has no lanterns that he brings with him to the Festival of Lights. And as per usual, he hangs around the outskirts, snatching up snacks that are small enough to be able to fit through the muzzle he’d had Dantalion's help putting on just so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to lose himself completely. He’s doing his best to be here, obviously, one hand practically superglued to Danta’s hip.
He watches the proceedings with a calculating focus, his attention span flitting from person to person and sneaking a piece of a lemon tart through the bars of the muzzle so he can nibble on it. He spots Flora and Kaisel in the distance, granting them a nod even as his fingers tighten a touch against his fiance’s hip, his engagement ring glinting in the lantern light.
Asta brings no lanterns!
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
The last big event she went to resulted in a baby being born in the middle of the Dusklight, so Thal is looking forward to something free of the physical pains of labor - and maybe a lot more alcohol. It's where she heads first, following the sound of music and the smell of something freshly baked.
She tilts her head up as she gets closer to the Mathair, blonde hair falling down the black velvet of her cloak. The dark glint of lanterns and lights amidst the barren branches are like spooky starlight of the dead, and she wonders if the Mathair is happy with how her home has been decorated, with the abundance of people laughing and dancing amidst her roots.
Stepping to a booth, she snags a glass of hot buttered rum, then turns to look at the crowd. Her blue eyes immediately finding Astaroth and Dantalion with a mischievous smile. She'll leave them to their fun, but she offers a lifted glass of acknowledgement, skimming quickly over Aithne to find other people - like Colt, who sits suspiciously off to the side. If the rancher bothers to glance Thal's way, she'll find an eyebrow raised in question.
Lyra has never attended the Festival of Lights before.
It always seemed like doing so would just be to sate a certain morbid curiosity that she does not possess, given that she hasn't lost anyone that she's aware of in her life, orphaned so young that she does not remember parents to mourn, if they're even dead to begin with. It used to bother her that she doesn't know their fate. But these days, it's a simple fact of life.
Still, she's stretching beyond her comfort zone in many ways in recent seasons, roaming freely around Caido instead of remaining steadfastly in Torchline. So why not attend, to pay her respects to the dead who have fallen before her? She therefore carries a lantern for no one in particular, simply to give to all those who, perhaps, do not have family or friends left in this world to remember them.
She doesn't recognize many in the gathering - Colt, perhaps, from a meeting long since past and nearly forgotten; and Zavien, more recently, though he and the woman he's with seem occupied, carrying several lanterns between them. Best not to interrupt. Instead, she heads into the trees to find a place for her own lantern, comfortable with her solitude.
---
Lyra carries a lantern for those who aren't being remembered. She has no viable lanterns for selection.
lyra
Never take advice from someone who's falling apart
Zavien didn't need to look at Sohalia to feel her presence. She steadied him in the flood of emotions, reassuring without saying a word, silently supporting him through the moment without making him feel guilty for having these feelings. Any of the guilt he'd ever felt had never stemmed from Soh's reactions, and even now, she gave him space without leaving, staying present without shying away from the darker parts of him.
He wasn't sure how he'd handle this grief without her here. Despite the months that had passed, the environment made it all feel like it had happened yesterday, it amplified everything, and if Soh wasn't here to hold him together, Zavien didn't want to think about what that would look like.
Squeezing her hand again, he released it so he could lift his lanterns into the tree, placing them with care onto their own individual branches of honor. If Soh needed help with hers, he assisted, then he stepped back, resting an arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his side as he looked up at the collection of mourning lanterns, giving them a few heartbeats of silence before he whispered, "Thank you. For being here with me."
Don't try to wake me up Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow
They stood in silence: not comfortable, exactly, because how could this be that, but instead a silence that spoke to how they had come to lean on one another through difficult times. And this, certainly, was a difficult time, especially for Zavien. This would be the first Festival of Lights he would be attending since Lena had died, and she was sure that it weighed on him in more ways than one. All she could do was support, and that was what she would do, no matter what.
They hung their lanterns in the small tree, arranging them neatly on individual branches. Once they were done, Soh tilted her head to one side, comforted by the soft light of the lanterns lighting their dark little corner of the festival. Pulled close to Zavien's side, Soh wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder as she looked at the scene they'd created.
His thanks was appreciated, but unnecessary, and Soh squeezed him gently. "Always," she murmured, her voice soft among the shadows. She hoped that he could feel her love and support through the gentle touch, the quiet confidence of her response. She would be here with him any time he needed it, for all the time to come.
Don't believe anything you say anymore In the morn, in the morning
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Sohalia.
In the middle of the night, in my dreams You should see the things we do, baby
The scream rain doesn't bother the Ancient, perhaps because she has nothing truly horrific in her past to draw out as a memory coaxed free by the wailing. If anything, it adds a rather spooky mood to the festival, which suits Aithne just fine. Still, she can freely admit that an entire season of it has been rather excessive. What will next season bring, she wonders, and will it be something that she can easily endure?
Her attention is piqued by Melita's reveal, and she offers a delighted, fanged grin in response. "I'm so glad," she says, warm and wicked in equal measure. She hopes that the recipient of the box is still picking out bits of glitter and confetti all this time later, making it a truly memorable and inescapable experience. "Everything you were hoping for, then?"
In the middle of the night, in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time
Aithne
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.
Taking note of everyone that’s arrived and currently still arriving, the Heartless lingers by the lanterns in quiet attention. This wasn’t really a happy and jovial space this time, and with Melita and Iskra interacting with each other and the Ancient he’d helped with the fountain part of the quest, he’s content being on his own for the time being. He’d check in with them later, probably, depending on who’s lantern got picked.
The thunderbird’s eyes are on him, though, and he notices it nearly immediately as he glances over at the Sword and nods back. Ensuring that the lanterns are hung with care and wouldn’t go falling off or what not, he picks up the bag of holding to step off to the side with Deimos to do the exchange.
He’s happy to know that everything remains just the same as when he’d left, when the Heartless finally returns to his small corner of trees in the festival, having snagged a spiked cocoa in the process to help warm up his hands.
the flood
nothing was good and everything was in between ///
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.
"You make that look like art," Danta is saying of the butcher's ability to sneak sweet treats through the bars of his muzzle, his tone entirely complimentary. He is more than content to be glued to his fiance's side tonight, especially given Asta's sharp eyes and sharper temper at the close of this season, but he does offer a wave towards Thalassa, Flora and Kaisel as he spots them in the crowd.
To Sunjata he tips a surreptitious wink when he knows Asta isn't looking, leaning into the butcher's side to steer him towards a stall serving mulled cider. "I feel like whenever the festival is in the Greatwood it always seems spookier than anywhere else," he remarks. Not as spooky as if it was in the Grounds, of course, but this is a good second best.
Getting them both a cup of cider, he makes sure to supply a straw for Asta's cup before offering it up to him.
Danta brings no viable lanterns!
Dantalion
// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
It's strange for Niki to be back in the Greatwood so soon after moving away, but for the Festival of Lights he wouldn't miss it. He still recalls that first festival after the void had been cleansed from the woods, the way the region had come to life in a way he'd never experienced, and tonight seems no different, even if it is a bit more sombre.
Regardless, the necromancer makes his way through the proceedings with all the familiarity of one who still lives and breathes the Greatwood, not having been away from the place for long enough yet to find it changed. Procuring himself a drink (non-alcoholic tonight, he hastens to add), he catches sight of Sunjata among the lanterns and raises a hand to say hello.
It takes him a little longer to get within the vicinity of the Heartless, but he manages it soon enough, cane and drink in hand and a smile on his lips. "Hello, Sunjata," he murmurs. "Are any of these yours?" He gestures to the creations adorning the trees above them.
With so many new faces here, Fern finds herself unable to keep watch over any one person or pair. Instead, her focus slips from one to another, shameless in the way she gawks and watches. She's noting attire and mannerisms, the way people stand, how they tilt when they laugh, how they cart the paper lanterns with a solemn care that lifts the moment they turn back into the music.
She might have been content to stay an observer on the outskirts, drinking in her first large gathering with something like a long curly straw. Might have, if not for the rumble in her stomach and the very appealing aromas wafting their way. "That smells good," she tells Ever, glancing sidelong at him, specifically his nose, to see if he's scenting any of it too and agrees or not.
By the time she looks back, there's a younger boy waving at her. Fern stiffens beside her father, a half-step taken back, her body instinctively pressing in closer to his side. Her breath draws in a touch, and she turns her head to glance over her shoulder. Only shadows remain behind her. "Is he waving at us?" she murmurs to her father. "Do you know him?"
Inevitably, a tug of curiosity overrides the initial caution, and a full step forward is taken as Fern slowly and awkwardly lifts one of her hands and waves back.
This is perhaps not the most ideal event for mischief and chaos, or perhaps the lack of fit made it...more fitting? Too morose otherwise, and the celebration of the living forgotten into something morose for the dead. The weather certainly doesn't help, and there is an unshakable weight to the festival this time. Maybe some trickster antics would do it some good.
"I'm sure we'll make do," he tosses out to Melita, gaze already skirting the crowd, knowing people are continuing to trickle in. That's when Aithne appears, and Iskra's features brighten with recognition. "Hey Aithne," a nod extended her way in greeting. As another flash and peal of shrieking streaks over the distance, rather on cue for Aithne's commentary, Iskra clicks his tongue. Absently, his arm pulls tighter towards his chest, keeping a tight loop against Mel's hand. "I think I preferred being overrun with memory mud," he confesses. "At least I could bully that back."
He almost misses the sly glance Mel cuts his way, but the tilt of her head snares his focus, and the devious look to her lips seals his assurance. His eyes slide from her to Aithe, brows lifting faintly, his own curl finding his mouth. "Oh, so you played a part as well?" Iskra wonders of Aithne with a beaming smile. "She hid invisible you know," he huffs out, fondness coloring his exasperation as he retells the tale. "And I don't know if you've ever dealt with her invisible, but she is impossible to find. I thought it was over for me when she leapt out."
