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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
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!
Last year, Jack's arguably frail mental state meant that Deepfrost in King's End had been quite the solemn affair on board The Ark. The cold and the snow had been both a culture shock and a constant reminder of where he wasn't, and the Captain had been focused more on survival than enjoyment. This year, to say that things are different is to put far too fine a point on it. He's different, the crew is different, even The Ark is different.
So it's little surprise that, this time, Jack means to pass the season in style and celebration, and what better way to keep the ice from freezing The Ark's sails and the snow from clogging her deck than with the heat of bodies and the free flow of liquor. He's set up braziers along the galleon's railings on the top deck, painstakingly careful with their placement and proximity to anything flammable, and he lights them with his own magic to keep as much control as possible.
He combines that with a shield of air on one side of the ship to keep the snow from buffeting anyone looking to have a drink in peace, the result being a strange, half snowglobe that will likely fail as Jack enjoys a drink or five, but for now things seem positively cozy. Casks of wine and barrels of whiskey have been dredged up from belowdecks, a few of the crew have struck up a shanty with the aid of a harmonica and some foot stamping, and Bassian is being begged not to start dancing.
Scoffing to himself behind the scarf draped around his face, Jack heads to the gangplank and, with a pulse of water magic, ensures any ice that has formed melts away and drips harmlessly into the waves below. It isn't often that The Ark is open for celebration, but never say never.
Party on The Ark! Come and get drunk in the snow because why the fuck not! Also counts towards the "embrace the cold" SE requirement if you're into that sort of thing.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
why icarus thought he'd find his place a little higher
One of those voices that is begging Bassian to not dance is Calypso’s herself. Only when she’s sure that the man won’t steal ruin the show, does the attuned drift away – searching for another drink and passing by her father with a golden grin and a raise of her glass in a toast to Jack. She lingers briefly by the braziers, seeking out the heat they offer and the way the firelight plays off the snow and the glittery waves.
Flushed from the alcohol and the slight chill, she tugs her sweater around her tighter – a black one with golden yellow stripes, large and warm and with her hair down to try and retain some of the warmth she can. It’s a quick break for her to get some air before she dives back into the party, joining in on the shanty.
'cause my life is like a bedroom door don't lead me in when you feel low
The first party of the season that Sunjata can remember, really, and it seems like the perfect opportunity to give one of those little vials Frey had given him a try. He hasn’t taken it yet, wanting to get a general feel for the party first before delving in, but the item sits nearly weightless in his pocket as he steps up onto the Ark. Between the flames, the singing, the dancing and stomping, it’s quite a vibrant affair that Sunjata finds perfect for the evening he’s intending on having.
He scouts out Jack among the mix, snagging a drink that wouldn’t do much at all to him yet and takes a sip of it as he steps up alongside the Captain. “Nice party, Jack.” He hums, shooting him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t wear a scarf like the Captain does, but he is dressed up in a thick turtleneck, dark blue that soaks up the heat as much as it keeps it. “Celebrating something specific or just the end of the year?” He asks as he rummages around in his other pocket for a cigarette to slip between his lips and light.
'cause i might make a move
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.
05-06-2026, 11:37 AM (This post was last modified: 05-06-2026, 11:45 AM by Odd.)
I've been trying out the high road, and I hate it
Initially, the Ark had stiffened at the outpouring of flame brought to bear across her deck. That it was Jack who set each brazier—far from rope and sail and anything hungry enough to catch—the precision of which smooths down the worst of her unease down before it can splinter. He’s made heat without carelessness, warmth without threat, and because it’s his magic licking life into the coals and his will keeping the whole bright danger on its leash, The Ark lets herself bear it. Gratitude moves through her like warmer water beneath a cold current, because he’s thought of her first in all the places someone else would have thought only of spectacle: the ice kept from her sails, the snow held off her deck by the press of his air, the gangplank freed from frost with a pulse of water that runs harmlessly back into the waves below. He’s made a party out of Deepfrost without letting Deepfrost make a corpse of her, and if the sight of flame still sends something old and splintered tightening beneath her ribs, it’s Jack’s hand she trusts around the tinderbox of it all, Jack’s magic that keeps the teeth of the thing from closing.
The dreamdust he'd given her sits sweet and strange in the back of her thoughts, softening the edges where noise would otherwise come pouring through too brightly, where every stomp, shout, laugh, glass-clink, song, scrape of boots, and shifting weight might have become weather too violent to carry. He’d given her a healthy dose before the crew and guests began to fill her, and there’d been rum as well, a large shot knocked back with him before the night could begin in earnest, its fire sinking into her belly and spreading outward until the great, raw net of her senses lay smoother against itself. It doesn’t make her dull—nothing could make her dull—but it lets the clamour blur into something she can bear.
It isn’t the party that had her winedark lips pulled down in a frown. The Ark has known worse noise than this, but the cold feels like an ugly stowaway, a thin-fingered thing prying at her seams and trying to make brittle what ought to bend. Even with Jack’s work holding back the worst of it, Deepfrost presses itself against her in pale, needling insistence, slipping wherever it can find room, frosting the edges of breath and glass and thought. So she keeps herself away from the braziers despite the heat they offer, because trust doesn’t make fire less fire, and instead draws the black-dyed ursur fur coat tighter around herself until it swallows the lines of her body in thick, dark warmth. In one hand, she holds a glass of strong whiskey, the kind that burns pleasantly down her throat with every sip and leaves heat pooled behind her belly like a lantern guarded from the wind.
The Ark's standing by herself!
I've got a lot of sins, but you're my favourite
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
She might have had a few drinks already. It's hard to tell with Nova, her smile is just as wide, her shouts just as loud as those around her, her magic buzzing in the air around her with the same intensity as always. But the white rum has started to kick in. The world is sparkling a little brighter, moving in a strange mixture of fast and slow, feeling slightly disjointed from where she touches it.
The ribbons in her golden hair twine around the hairpin Vesper got her, matching the ones stitched into the fuzzy white jacket consuming her. They ripple like colorful flags as she stands alone in encouraging Bassian to dance. She's already been showing off some of her own moves and she rushes forward to takes his hands, beaming a smile up at him when she giggles. "Come on! I'll show you how!"
Nova is trying to teach Bassian the right way to dance.
Let your light shine, no matter how dark the world around you.
With Calypso encouraging Bassian not to dance and Nova taking his hands to egg him on, it's little surprise that the big man is overwhelmed with the choice of do or do not. Eventually, his hands limp in Nova's but his feet clumsily moving to the rhythm, the crew get exactly what they don't want, and everyone is very much at risk of getting their toes stepped on for the foreseeable future.
Having gotten himself a drink of something mulled and spiced and strong, Jack is using a barrel for a table and smirking as he watches the chaos unfold, raising his glass to Caly in return as she passes. He glances up to Sunjata a second before the other man gets close enough to speak, offering a slanted smile behind the scarf he pulls down now to properly enjoy his drink.
"Somethin' and nothin'," he says of the reason for the party. Truthfully, a get together like this almost always happens at Deepfrost given that it's when the Captain's birthday falls, but he's the last to say it's for that. Especially not when there's a much better reason standing nearby. "C'mon, I got someone worth you meetin'," he tells the Heartless, straightening up and leading him over to where The Ark stands.
"Warm enough, love?" Jack's arm hooks around her waist regardless of the answer, more than willing to offer more heat where it's needed, and he gestures to Sunjata with his glass. "Meet the Archon of King's End," he announces. "Sunjata, meet The Ark."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
And they lived comfortably ever after, boob in hand
Continuing to hunt for werefiend inspiration in the House of Midnight, revelry of any sort is a bright enough beacon to drag Quentin out to the chillier, less sexy side of King's End, otherwise known as its docks. Robed in dark wool tailoring layered neatly against the cold, every sleek line and precise fit carries him with all the cheer of Deepfrost that's earned by staying dry and cozy rather than brightly decorated. Though by no means impervious to the season’s bite, nor opposed to the right kind of it when properly placed, he more than gratefully reaches for the dark rum meant to warm him from the inside out.
Tipping back the first gulp of spiced heat, a flavor that he rolls properly in his mouth first before swallowing, he allows the party to do much the same to him as he wades into its excited throng. Fishing out a small book from his charcoal overcoat's inner pocket, using the hand not currently buoying his drink, he thumbs it open. Ink scratches out a flowing script against the page freshly laid bare while his bright gaze hooks on the clumsy sailor being used like a tug-o-war rope between two blondes.
The unsuspecting next victim of the curse may find himself improved by it. Sometimes silver linings are fastened out of cum, as the sailor will consider his bumbling antics blessed anew with the fever pitch of lust that's about to strike him through.
why icarus thought he'd find his place a little higher
Face flushed and warm from the liquor and the party as it continues to rage on, Caly joins the shanty with a vibrant voice and the movement of liquid gold. She does concede enough to let her sister try and get Bassian to dance, shooting him a look that seems to suggest that if he can’t figure it out in an undetermined amount of time that he’ll need to politely decline Nova’s attempts.
And as she looks back to the party, she sees her father with the Ark and the Archon, and someone she doesn’t recognize. Which of course captures her interest nearly immediately, swanning her over to Quentin with a sunshine grin. “Welcome t’the party! You just gonna hang on the outskirts or are ya gonna join in?” She asks, eyeing the page that the man seems to be writing hands free though, her amber gaze rising to pin him with a playful, feline look.
'cause my life is like a bedroom door don't lead me in when you feel low
“Ah, my favorite.” Sunjata laughs softly, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag off of it. Smoke curls around his nose and cheeks before he’s tilting his head slightly to hear that there’s someone he wants him to meet. Not once has Sunjata heard that from Jack, which obviously leads him to think it’s very important if the Captain is suggesting such a thing. Happy to follow, though, he cradles the glass of liquor in one hand and the cigarette between his fingers as he follows the abandoned, curious as can be.
Guided to a very beautiful red head, the familiarity in which Jack wraps his arm around her middle is noted, and he flashes her a lopsided smile of greeting only for the answer to come when Jack introduces the Ark to him. Now, it comes as such a surprise that he unfortunately lights up with it – a brief, there in a second lightning strike brightening each of his scars until it’s gone and he steps a little closer. “Wow, you are stunning.” He hums, his smile brightening as he extends his lightning scarred hand out to her for an official greeting, cigarette hanging briefly from his lips as his mind wraps around the idea of her – because he knows full well Jack will be able to see the suddenly there like the fucking SHIP?? that he keeps hidden behind his lips in the politeness. “It's nice to officially meet you.” Because her name wouldn’t be the Ark if she wasn’t the ship, obviously, and gods knew he had his own little history with the ship – flying alongside as a dragon or swimming along in the waves as the shark-bite scarred orca.
Sunjata is with Jack and the Ark!
'cause i might make a move
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.
The Ark’s oceanic gaze hasn’t settled on any one thing for long, not while so much of herself is crowded with motion and sound, while boots strike her deck in uneven rhythm and song spills through the cold like rum through water, while Bassian’s unfortunate attempt at dancing sends little shivers of warning through the planks beneath everyone’s feet. Her attention drifts as naturally as tidewater on the pulse of bodies and liquor and smoke moving over her, until Jack begins to move towards her and everything in her draws to him with a welcome that has teeth tucked neatly behind it.
When his arm hooks around her waist, her chin tilts with a predator's lazy arrogance even as something unmistakably pleased warms through the blue of her eyes. Wrapped in her furs with her whiskey held close, she smiles at him with a jackal’s curve to her lips, sharp and knowing and made prettier for the danger of it. "Parts of me are," she murmurs, letting the words brush close enough for him to know precisely which parts she means, though the glance she lowers towards her glass is almost demure in its restraint. "The water’s still so cold, though."
She doesn’t let the complaint stretch any farther than that, not with someone else brought near enough to hear the shape of it, and so The Ark turns her attention upon Sunjata instead, blue eyes taking him in as if he’s weather worth naming. When his hand extends, she offers her own, and for the first instant of contact there’s something strange and impossible beneath the courtesy of skin against skin, a sensation like trying to grasp a wave before it breaks, all cool slip and living pressure before the woman of her settles properly into the gesture. The flash of lightning through his scars catches her interest at once, bright against him in a way that reminds her less of ornament than of a storm showing its bones through cloud, and her smile deepens around the compliment, indulgent as a tide accepting tribute.
"It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well," she says, her voice warm with whiskey and salt-smooth amusement, her gaze still tracing the place where light had sparked through him before returning to his face as she pulls her hand away to warm herself with another sip of whiskey.
I've got a lot of sins, but you're my favourite
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
05-09-2026, 03:05 AM (This post was last modified: 06-01-2026, 09:31 AM by Jack.)
JACK
"We'll fly into a thermal once the party wraps up," Jack offers quietly, the sharp edge to his smile not something he tries to hide as he draws The Ark closer against him. "An' I'll see if I can't get the rest of you warm." Leaving the rest of that for later, he glances back to Sunjata just as his scars and his mind light up with the shock of her introduction, the Captain laughing without being able to help himself.
"Sunjata knows what I can do," he explains in a low voice to the siren at his side, "and he is very shocked to see you out and about. But not unhappily so." Raising his own glass for a drink, he gestures around at the deck. "Hopefully now you can see part of what the party's for," he says to the Heartless. To celebrate The Ark in both her forms, and to inject some warmth into an otherwise frigid season.
"Treat her as well as you always have an' there won't be any issues. Believe me, she's more'n a pretty face." And much more than a ship now, too.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
And they lived comfortably ever after, boob in hand
Leaving his cum gilded clouds for another time, Quentin's attention shifts fully to Calypso as she glides over with the same effortless fluidity of the drink he presses back to his lips. "I was looking for my muse, but it seems I've found it." The book in his hand jots down another dark scrawl that simply reads, sunshine metaphor, and then he snaps the notebook shut and slides it back into his inner coat pocket.
With his hand freshly freed, he extends it warmly to her, clasping her fingers to bring the back of her hand into reach, where he deftly dips a liquor-laced kiss there. "Quentin King, pleased to meet you, lovely." The outskirts suit him just fine, but he's always thrived among the hot core of things truthfully. Best not to rush that though.
'cause my life is like a bedroom door don't lead me in when you feel low
As she looks at him, it feels like the ocean takes him in – a familiar feeling for the ex-Flood, now Heartless, to peer back at someone that understands just as much as he does the currents and flow of the sea, even if it weren’t for the same reasoning. He takes her hand, that sensation of something more beneath the smooth skin, the tension of a cresting wave before the mist hits, leaving you breathless in the way that’s so unlike anything else but coming face to face with the sea.
It only has his smile growing, the acceptance in the smoothness of this encounter despite the way he knows Jack’s listening to his very thoughts on the matter. A fact answered when the Captain’s voice rings out and Sunjata hums a little accented laugh, nodding. “I just didn’t know such a thing was possible, to be honest.” He admits, his smile bright and almost boyish as he places the cigarette back between his lips to take a drag off of. The exhale pours from his nose, curling around his cheeks as he nods his head. “Oh, of that I’m sure.” He agrees with a nod to Jack and The Ark with the fact that the woman before him is more than a pretty face. “I’m also pretty sure I can manage that.” Treating her well, that is. Gods knew Jack and he had enough drama in the past between them that have smoothed out over the years that the Archon isn’t intending on stirring up any other shit.
Why ruin a good thing when you’ve got it? Speaking of, though, he reaches into his pocket to snag the vial, shimmering and pearlescent, the boon from Frey that now seems as good a time as any to take – and he does, downs it alongside another sip of the whiskey in his glass, loosening up enough to continue the conversation in a way that can have him trying to figure out when he’ll start to feel the sensation of being drunk for the first time in what felt like ages. “If it helps, I’m not too big of a fan of the cold here either, buuut everywhere else was taken, so this was the best shot I had.” He couldn’t stay ruling Torchline, even if it still held a huge piece of his heart.
'cause i might make a move
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.
Grabbing Bassian's hands, she tries to guide his feet as she giggles between instructions. "No no. The other way, silly!" She moves her foot to the side, the shiny (not glittery) shoes feeling disjointed even as they manage to slide purposefully across the deck. "See?! Like this!" He fumbles through a similar motion that has her devolving into another fit of bubbly laughter. "You're so bad at this! Just let the music take you!" 'Music' being the sea shanty everyone sings.
As if she can push the music deeper into his being, like she can infuse him with some semblance of rhythm, Nova joins her voice with the others, singing brighter and louder as she throws her head back. The motion sends her slightly off kilter, the world spinning so that her next step stumbles slightly. She goes with the momentum, pulling Bassian into a twirl that's less dancing and more bouncing motion that threatens to fling them off their feet, her giggles and bits of magic twinkling in the air around them without a care if they do.
Let your light shine, no matter how dark the world around you.
