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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 feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
"Shorter," she agreed, "but hardly safer. Even the Crust is dangerous to most who are not ancient." Hot, unsteady footing, poisonous gasses and nothing but predators in sight; it made for a perilous back door.
Laughing at the strange perspective he brought to a tradition so old it had lost its meaning, Maea looked at the finished wreath and the garland she was making now. Why indeed?
"I don't know," she admitted, with a smile that had turned decidedly impish. How interesting, to realize there were mysteries right before her very nose. "But if I were to guess... They're easiest to make, for one. And a circle has long been a symbol of eternity and the birt, life, death cycle. Perhaps there are places that make their wreaths trianglar, for a more religious connotation - to represent the big three, or their heralds."
Reaching for more of the dying vegetation, she kept extending the garland. "But no, we're not recreating Longheat. See it more as a... reminder, perhaps. That even if the dark and the cold may seem endless, it is not. The LongNight will end, and Flowerbirth is on it's way - there is still hope."
"I have only been in the Burrows," Hadama admitted, tucking a sprig of hard white berries into his wreath, and then choosing a few small pine cones to balance the whole and add a pleasing textural shift. "When I was a Mer." Emerald eyes twinkled as he left it at that and asked instead about the traditions of the Grounds and its landwalking inhabitants. Setting aside his wreath he reached for several longer branches and began to weave their ends together with some twine as he saw Maea doing, making a second garland.
"Hmm. Perhaps I will hang a kelp frond triangle in the Court of Stars," he mused, silent laughter hiding behind his serious expression, though the corners of his eyes had crinkled with his good humor. "In the rainy season. To remind us that the sun will come again."
He considered the wreaths and garlands that were slowly accumulating between them and then looked around the cozy cottage in curiosity. "Are there specific places where they will go?"
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
"Let me know when you do. By then the sea should have warmed enough that I can come visit." Maea hoped so at least; hoped too that her aversion towards deep water had eased by then. Unlikely, but... one could hope.
Gazing about the room, she considered where to put the decorations. "One wreath on the door, on the outside. One over the mantlepiece, and then garlands over the door to the sitting room." She pointed out the places as she thought out loud. That accounted for most of the creations, but not all. "As for these... where would you put them?"
Touching one of Hadama's creations with light fingertips, she smiled while waiting for a suggestion. Besides the kitchen there was the hallway that extended from the archway behind her back, past a small sitting room, her own and Ophelia's rooms towards the bathroom, and then the foyer and a guestroom - really just a glorified attic - upstairs.
Hadama inclined his head in acceptance of her desire to wait. The Court of Stars in Haulani had been built by human hands and had only one section for the Mer, in the inner garden, but he respected her choice. Travel at this time of year could not be easy for an Ancient and he would force no one to visit who did not want to.
His large hands continued their slow, methodical weaving of branches. The garland unfurling beneath them had begun to coil in a loose, messy spiral on the table as it grew while they talked. He had the knack of it now, hands trained in crafting moving with deft surety even as his eyes left the task in order to look around the room to the places Maea indicated.
Studying the places she had chosen, he looked back to his own creations and contemplated. ”Mmh. The wreath… on the inside of the door,” he said slowly. Then he turned his head to view the sitting room door again before he looked down at his own garland – now rather significantly too long for a single portal. ”…Can the garlands go outside?” he asked, testing the waters of this strange but appealing tradition.
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
Gazing at the ever growing length of garland snaking around their feet, Maea's mouth twitched with laughter. It would probably reach all the way around the room now. Or indeed be enough to hang in arches from the edge of the roof.
"Sure it can go outside. Let's finish it off and see how it will fit."
Arming them both with a roll of twine, a hammer and some nails, Maea left the garland for Hadama to wrangle and opened the door to step out into the deepfrost night. The cold bit at her skin as quiet snowflakes drifted down from the overcast sky. She had to summon fire into will-o-wisps to illuminate the roof, and leaned back to consider the edge of the roof to see what would work.
"Hm, I could fly up there and get the nails in," she suggested, "then hang it?" Not waiting for a response, she shifted into the gore crow that lived like a pale shadow in her soul, and took to the air with the unsteady enthusiasm of one who was still working on finesse. Pale as the snow, wide-winged and jubilant, it was tempting to simply keep flying and disappeared into the night. Landing so soon seemed a waste, a shame - so utilitarian and boring.
A look of quiet relief passed over the Tidebreaker's face at Maea's reassurance and he met her eyes with a twinkling emerald gaze that acknowledged the twitch of her mouth. What could he say? The task was soothing and suited his large hands, well-used to crafting art in metal and food alike. At her agreement to his suggestion he focused on tying the last few branches onto the chain. There was a temptation to decorate the garland further, but he was unsure how such things would withstand the elements so he settled for tying a few sturdy red and white bows along the length of the pine boughs before following his hostess back into the snow.
Maea's flames were better than torches because she could control their light as well as where they needed to go to provide the best illumination. The magic might have faded when she shifted, but the striking pale elegance of her Gore Crow form - inspiring for both her size and coloration - was something that Hadama could appreciate even in the lesser light reflecting from the snow. "I will hand it up to you," he offered, watching her winged form with interest as she flapped to the roof. To fly through the air the way a Mer swam through the sea... a curious emotion curled in the Tidebreaker's chest, but he gently tucked it away to explore later as he stretched to his full height in order to get the hammer and nails high enough for Maea to reach. "Let me know when you are ready for the garland," he called up. "Or if you get too cold."
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
Large as she was as a bird, the snow upon the roof was nearly thick enough that she had to swim to get around. Shuffling to the edge, the ancient shifted back and lay flat on her stomach to get her arms as close to Hadama as possible. "Here, I can take them now."
It was bloody cold. Shivers and numbing fingers made her fast pace necessary as she hammered in nail after nail at roughly a full arm-span's length apart. The weather boards were old and weathered, and occasionally she had to move the nail so as not to split the wood, but it would do for one other half season; she had a feeling that much of the next year would be spent fixing the roof and maybe the chimney too.
"R-ready," she called out after hammering the last nail in place. Her face felt stiff with cold; touching a cheek, it felt rough and icy beneath her fingers, as if not entirely made of flesh and blood. "Be-better get t-this done quickly. 'm going marble." Her laugh was breathy and perhaps a little too bright; turning into a statue had not been on the agenda for the day.
Hadama passed up the tools first, watching with quiet concern as Maea made her way across the slanted roof with its slippery covering of snow. He would have offered to help, but he was not at all confident that he could maintain his balance under those conditions. And then, too, there was some concern about the roof holding his weight. He was no engineer, but he could see the weathering and age of the boards above the snow.
In a remarkably short time she had finished setting the nails, but he could hear the chattering of her teeth as she spoke. Once again he measured the span of the roof and did the mental math of the likelihood of damaging it with his weight. But instead of his usual thoughtful pause while he calculated the outcome he moved with alacrity to pass the end of the garland up to his friend. He walked along the front of the house in parallel to her, offering up more garland from his coil - and standing ready to catch her if she should fall.
"Will you fit in the hearth?" he called up, only half joking. "If I need to thaw you out?"
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
"It's big, so p-probsbly," she laughed, despite not really feeling very amused. Determined to avoid that kind of humiliation Maea worked as quickly as she could, securing the garland to the roof with fingers that grew stiffer by the minute.
The moment she was done she skidded off the roof and dropped down into a tall snowpile below. Extending a hand för Hadama to help haul her up, he would find the digits cold and stiff with an alabaster finish that was more than skin deep. Maea moved slowly, joints stiff and unbending; her cheeks didn't flex anymore, as streaks of some pale stone had started to petrify the flesh.
It didn't hurt, exactly. But it felt weird, and there was no mistaking her urgency in getting back inside. Maea knew she should have put on a coat - she just didn't expect the petrification to happen so quickly.
Her laughter was reassuring enough that Hadama did not realize quite how swiftly the petrification was spreading. Having only heard about it secondhand he had no idea of what to expect and his surprise showed in the rise of his steely grey brows as he wrapped his hand around hers. For once he did not ask permission before he flexed his considerable muscle, not simply pulling Maea to her feet but stooping to scoop his other arm behind her knees, lifting her in his arms so that the heat of his body could help warm her as he strode back to the front door.
Managing the handle with his hands full was tricky but not impossible, though he had to duck awkwardly to fit himself back through the door. He stamped the snow from his boots once within but didn't try to take them off. Instead he strode straight inside to where the fire burned cozily low in the hearth.
"Does it hurt?" he asked first and foremost as he lowered her to the warm stones in front of the flames. Emerald eyes watched her with concern as he straightened back up but then hesitated before he went back for her coat and a fresh stack of wood.
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
A startled noise was followed by weak protests as Maea found herself hoisted up and carried back inside. It was quite possibly the closest they had been since the very spontaneous spar during their second encounter, and not only was she given a much higher perspective of the cottage, but also a completely new appreciation of just how strong the mer king really was. And he was warm, leaving her intimately aware of every inch of connection until the moment he set her down.
Dragging a deep breath down, Maea cleared her throat and met his gaze briefly before looking away. Digging her hands into the embers, her head shook lightly - but slowly, as if it took effort. "No. Just stiff, and numb," she murmured. There was a brief pause. "Thank you. I'm okay. Really." She could have walked. Probably.
He would not normally ignore protests, but their very weakness was concerning and Hadama placed Maea's health above her dignity, at least for the moment. She was not as light as her lithe form had led him to believe; there was muscle beneath the pale skin, but also the weight of stone beginning to creep over flesh and blood as he got them both back inside and over to the fire. Though he might have held on to her longer he knew that the fire could provide more heat and comfort than his own body, so it was with only a brief hesitation - not reluctance, he could not afford reluctance now - that he set her down before the healing flames.
Still, he met her eyes without flinching, and only exhaled silently when she looked away.
He fetched the fresh wood from outside, bringing it over to her so that she could feed the fire to her preference. Then he fetched her coat to drape gently over her shoulders so that her own body heat could help thaw her. "Yes," he agreed solemnly with her assurance. A confirmation of acknowledgment, that her words had been heard, if not of belief in them. "But I will stay until you are warm again. If you do not mind," he added, courteous to a fault again now that she was safe.
I feel it in the wind, my dear The sun is gonna reappear
Something strange was going on. A peculiar something, like something had shifted in the air in the brief time-span between her descent from the roof and the moment when she was put down. Unsure of what it was, it kept her silent until Hadama returned with her coat and more wood, a quiet that persisted as she fed the hearth and drew the blaze closer - not unlike a blanket - so that the orange flames could lap at her face and reverse the patches of stone back to soft flesh and pliable skin. If she was left sooty and smelling of woodsmoke, well - that was a small price to pay.
"You can stay as long as you like," came her quiet reply. "I don't mind at all." Hesitating, she eventually drew up enough courage to ask, because it was the only reason she could think of for this odd tension. "Have I upset you?" Perhaps she should not have leaped off the roof the way she had. Or insisted that she was alright, when it wasn't strictly speaking true. Anything else... Maea wracked her brain, but came up empty.
He inclined his head at her offer, though he could not linger too much longer away from Torchline. The silence did not bother him, however, and once she was tucked into her coat and softening beneath the fire's cheerful warmth he gingerly settled his bulk into one of the chairs, content to watch the flames in the festively decorated cozy cottage.
The hesitant question, however, drew his attention back to Maea and he regarded her thoughtfully in silence for a moment before shaking his head. "Not upset," he rumbled, his words slow as he considered each one before releasing it from his tongue. "I was... worried." Strictly true, and not without good cause. "I did not think the cold would affect you so quickly." It was a sobering realization to know just how susceptible to it the Ancients were. "Or so severely."
