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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!
i was raised as a scorpion being pulled by the moon in a high tide
This close, Niki’s laughter is warm and comfortable as it grazes against him, even as the necromancer’s slate blue eyes slip away from him. He can see the remaining flush against his face, wondering if part of it has burned anew from the quiet correction the Heartless has made, but he doesn’t exactly let Niki finish it before he’s descending for another kiss.
Sunjata’s always been a man who did his best communication through his body language. Words always tripped him up, got misconstrued, thrown back at him. But this is something he can control, and he soaks into the surprised and soft moan that leaves him, offering his own quiet rumble of a purred sound to feel his leg hook around his hips to pull him closer. The hand that trails along his chest would feel the hard flesh beneath, warm and strong, and he might feel the way his breath hitches a fraction with the touch.
His own hand that brushes against Niki’s neck drops down, brushing along his side while his other brushes gently against the leg with the brace, careful and thoughtful enough to not do anything that might make it hurt more than it probably already does. The kiss deepens for a brief moment before he pulls away, giving them room to get some breath again, his face fully flared pink now as he scans Niki’s face. “So… what do you want?” He asks into the brief space between them. It's clear Sunjata's happy for anything, whether it's more of this or something more.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah, am i a villain or a saint?
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.
"That is a cruel question for a man who has never done much more than this," Niki says, his amusement a barely there thing behind the sudden fire in his blood making everything feel urgent, the world outside his door becoming a faraway and unimportant distraction. He can feel the warmth radiating between them, all flushed skin and barely caught breath, and gods this should be enough given how the necromancer has gone without for his entire life. But it really isn't.
His hands have dropped near enough to his lap following the brief exploration of Sunjata's body, though he daren't glance down lest he spot the very obvious result of their impromptu make-out session. "What do you want?" Niki fires back, perhaps unfairly, before he forces himself to come up with something like an answer, even if it isn't a good one.
"I want to touch you," he almost whispers. "And be touched by you. I am tired of not... of being afraid of myself."
i was raised as a scorpion being pulled by the moon in a high tide
“Then it’s all the more important, I'd say?” He retorts softly, a small smile tugging on his face in the space between them. If Niki hasn’t done much more than this, then Sunjata figures they should savor the moment, not going too far to rush it into something Niki might decide he doesn’t want. And for Sunjata? He’s flexible enough to do whatever it was the other man wants.
His own hands are soft and gentle where they rest against the necromancer’s sides, happy to be perched here between his legs, smirking a little to hear the fired back response. It’s an easy answer if Niki gave him time to say it, that he wants whatever Niki wants, and around and around the circle would go again.
But he saves them both from it, with the near whisper that Sunjata has zero difficulty hearing. “Then we won’t be afraid.” He hums softly, withdrawing slightly to slip his shirt off. He doesn’t go further than that, bunching it up in his hands and dropping it gods knows where. It leaves him there between Niki’s legs, scars and tattoos on display, each branching arcs of the lightning strike scar creeping toward his heart, broken up only by the dark navy feathers that spread across his shoulders. And this close, it’s very obvious the northern point of the compass is aimed directly at Niki.
He snags Niki’s hand in his own, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to his wrist, before he places it against his neck as if to help him start the journey, before he’s giving his own hands a trajectory on Niki’s body. The one on his braced leg stays soft and easy, grounding, while the other reaches to dip beneath the evergreen cableknit sweater to brush his fingertips softly against his warm skin. “Do you want yours on or off?” He asks of the sweater, his steel gaze scanning over his face, happy and content for either choice.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah, am i a villain or a saint?
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 it sound so easy," Niki mumbles. To just decide not to be afraid, he means; to put those nerves and that trepidation on a shelf somewhere for safekeeping while he's otherwise occupied. But perhaps there's something to Sunjata's comment, because rest assured, as the other man tugs off his shirt, Niki isn't thinking about fear. (He's barely thinking with the head above his shoulders at all, let's be honest).
He's left to admire the play of muscle and ink and scar tissue for the first time sober, skipping in a breath he doesn't realise he's forgotten to take as the Heartless catches his hand. Caution leaps immediately to the tip of his tongue, as if to warn Sunjata of the scars that mar the soft skin on the inside of his wrist, but it seems foolish to say when considering the patchwork of silver before him. And so he says nothing, watching with open wonder as Sunjata's lips brush against his wrist and he guides his hand towards the side of his neck.
His touch is gentle, as if handling something delicate or important, fingers tracing the outline of feathers before dropping to skim along a branch of lightning scarring. "Do they hurt?" he asks softly, not wanting to risk causing pain. But as the question about his own shirt is fired at him, gods but he wants to take that step forward, only this is already a lot. "On, for now?" He phrases it like an apology and a question, resisting the urge to drop his gaze.
i was raised as a scorpion being pulled by the moon in a high tide
Honestly, it worked most of the time for him. The less he could make something seem daunting, the more it seemed like he’d be able to overcome it. And combined, where it wasn’t just yourself working through the stress, he found it helped too. Now, though, he stands there between Niki’s legs, guiding his hand to his lips, uncaring of the raised scars he can feel beneath his lips before he guides the hand to his neck.
He feels the soft brush of Niki’s own hand as it traces across the raised lines. Silvered bite marks adorn the sides of his neck and along his collarbones, smaller and smooth as opposed to the raised scar tissue from his actually traumatic scarring while the rest had come about for pleasure or utility. “No, they don’t hurt.” He murmurs softly, reassuring Niki that he could poke and prod away at them to his heart’s content.
As for Niki’s own sweater, the answer that comes is a sorry wrapped in a question mark, and Sunjata can’t help but to lift his gaze to try and catch his slate blues with a soft smile. “On is fine with me.” Another little reassurance, even as he drops the hem of the shirt to smooth his hand along the sharp edge of Niki’s hip, fingers soft where they trace a design in against his skin, stretching out to feel and map this portion of his body slowly, to get the necromancer used to it.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah, am i a villain or a saint?
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.
