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Character of the Season
From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
“Me? Never.” He teases as they part, and he clicks the door shut behind him, making himself busy and scarce should the Maverick choose to take flight earlier than breaking free of line of sight. Mercifully, though, the coast is clear, and while Danta goes and relieves his tension and stress, Astaroth relieves his own on a particularly rowdy, too drunk patron that’s harassing the workers. Luckily, it doesn’t take much, the man far too drunk to do much else than make the loosest fists Astaroth thinks he’s ever seen, and spit in his face.
As Danta re-enters the Dusklight, the man will be stepping out directly after him, growling curses about how establishments should be free for alls for paying customers, and staggering out into the Last Whisper. But he hadn’t been that big of a threat that Astaroth isn’t convinced that he doesn’t just leave. After all, the man was a foot shorter than the butcher, and even in his drunken state and attempt at bravado, he knows when to leave a fight.
So the Maverick will find Astaroth at the bar with a cloth napkin, swiping at his cheek and jaw, cane propped up against the counter as his tail waves idly in a surprising amount of content, not noticing the Theocrats approach regardless of how the bartender already pours something warm and delicious and slides it to the empty space beside the butcher.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Oho, trouble in paradise?" Danta rumbles, his voice warm and his smile audible as he sidles up next to the butcher, fingertips walking idly along his shoulder before he slouches onto his barstool. "I hope they got what they deserved." He refers, of course, the cloth napkin that Astaroth is using to clean himself up, Danta meanwhile offering a grateful nod and a cheers to the bartender who had poured him a drink.
Having shrugged out of the stranger's coat, the Maverick is once again left shirtless beneath a dark waistcoat and adorned in glitter, but other than the chill against his ears, fingers and the tip of his nose, he's otherwise unharmed by his flight through the snow. And the hot, boozy drink certainly helps matters too. "I trust I didn't miss anything too interesting," he says, idly rubbing at the dried blood on his own knuckles, his tail looping idly around the leg of Asta's barstool.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Danta’s voice announces his presence briefly before the tip tapping of his fingers move along his shoulder before he joins him officially and Astaroth glances over with a small huff of a laugh and a shake of his head, lowering the cloth in a flare of dramatics. “He deserved more. He spit on me.” The butcher drawls like it’s the worst thing that has ever occurred to him, before he shakes out of it with a sigh. “But he was aware of when to pick a fight and decided leaving would be a better choice.” Nodding to the bartender to make him one of his own, Astaroth turns a bit toward Danta, letting his dark gaze focus on the dried blood and otherwise unharmed form of the Maverick.
Satisfied enough, his tail stills its waving to loop around Danta’s barstool in turn, lips quirking into that typical charming smile as he usually harbored. “Nothing aside from that. He wanted to fight, but he was too inebriated to get his hands to form actual fists.” Which is why he got spit on, because obviously it was Astaroth’s fault. “How was your hunt?” He hums, collecting his glass when the bartender drops it off with a grateful nod, before his attention returns back to the blonde.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Say what you will about Danta and his penchant for violence and dirty tactics - by the way his nose scrunches in response to Asta's comments, it really does sound like the worst thing that could have happened to the other man. "How barbaric," he drawls, sipping at his drink and enjoying the flood of sweet warmth that cascades down his throat and into his chest. "I'd have at least taken one of his teeth for that."
Alas, it appears Astaroth has been quite the measured gentleman this time around, and whilst the fight would have been brutal, quick and entertaining for all but the victim, Danta can understand the decision to ease off. "My hunt was lovely," he croons. "I doubt you'd have found it enjoyable, given how different our instincts are. But rest assured, I am feeling much better."
Reaching out to gently clink his glass against Asta's, Danta takes another long drink and sighs the last of the tension out of his shoulders. "Thanks," he adds quietly, "for coming to find me earlier."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“I certainly considered it.” The butcher hums, but he’d already ruined one of his favorite sets of suits with blood on an impulsive kick with Charlie, and he cannot keep up with ruining another. So as it stands, he makes the easier choice of just tossing out, sure that the next time something happened it might be a strappingly strong and young person to try and take him on next. One that might actually know how to fight hand to hand rather than the piss poor semblance of one.
As for Dantalion’s hunt, though, he’s all ears and eyes, horned head tilting to cast a shadow amongst the counter from the flickering oil lamps sprawled throughout the heady, dusky interior of the Dusklight. “That is great news.” He murmurs, flashing a sharp toothed smile as he clinks his glass against Danta’s in turn, where the Maverick may notice some glitter still fucking stuck to the butcher’s hand.
He lifts to drink a sip of it, relishing in the taste as well as the burn, before the glass lowers and he runs his fingers along the smooth edge of the glass. “There’s no need to thank me, darling.” He assures him, but the appreciation is there regardless. “When you didn’t immediately come out after… Well, I knew something was off.” He sips from the drink again to muffle any semblance of I had started to worry.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Consideration instead of reckless doing? That's so you, it's sickening," Danta drawls, his tone as playful as his smile, and he sets his drink down beside Astaroth's so he can drum his fingers along the warm glass. While they talk the Maverick takes stock of the Dusklight now that he's finally back and with his head screwed on straight, and he's pleased to note that the party he'd started seems to be winding down towards something more casual. Good - it means no one is likely to care should he decide not to be on the main floor or out in the Backrooms.
And as his gaze drifts back to the counter, why yes, he does notice the shimmer of something against Asta's hand, though rather than commenting on it outright, he merely commits it to memory with a pang of satisfaction. "Mm, something must be very wrong if I am in my office," he agrees without irony or humour, his nose scrunching. "Still... all's well that ends well. Do you think I need a new ambassador, or is Kiada enough?"
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“My duties include providing you with the occasional nausea.” He teases, based off of the verbiage that the shorter man offers, snorting before he takes another sip and a thought occurs to him and he taps a worker walking by on the shoulder, whispering something to her as she departs, and his attention returns back to the conversation at hand. The worker vanishes, and Astaroth offers his sentimentality before sipping from the glass again to hide it.
Humming a thoughtful note at the realness of their conversation, Astaroth’s tail spirals a bit further on the Maverick’s barstool, brushing accidentally by the other man’s tail still wound around the butcher’s. “I would ask her, just to be safe. She will likely tell you if she thinks she can handle the amount of work.” He shrugs lightly, based off of how Kiada had strapped Danta into that corset for the ball, he imagines the Harpy could handle anything.
It's about this time a little box arrives from the worker and the key is slipped back into Astaroth’s hand, and he flashes her a particularly bright smile before he nudges the black box over toward Danta. “Here. Because I sense an incoming shopping spree.” He teases lightly, raising a brow toward him in a quiet thrum of amusement.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Remind me to take a look at your contract, wherever it must have fallen in the mess of my office," Danta drawls, smirking, "because I do not recall that being a part of it." Smiling another sip of his drink and feeling more than warmed through now thanks to the burn of alcohol, he blinks at the brush of sensation against his tail, glancing briefly over his shoulder, before his attention moves easily elsewhere.
"Gods, you're just full of logic today. It makes me want to push you over," he informs the other man with a petulant roll of his eyes, though no part of him looks as if he's considering not taking the offered advice. And Kiada had managed to wrestle him into his outfit, so he's got no shortage of respect (and a healthy dose of fear) for the harpy now.
Blinking at the box as it arrives - Danta has been too busy recalling corset trauma and tapping the bar for a refill - the Maverick's brow furrows and he flashes the other man a crooked, fanged smile. "I have told you enough times, I will not be your wife," he informs him, nonetheless opening the box to see what waits inside.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“It’s in the fine print, my dear.” He assures him with a wink, letting the warmth of the alcohol soothe him as he wrestles away the sentimentality and worry that has coated him for the past few hours. Instead, he focuses on the topic at hand – of asking the Harpy rather than assuming, which something tells him that the fiery young woman would have no issue with doing such a task. But, it was polite to ask, and Asta is here to offer nothing but gentlemanly guidance for such things. “You can try, but if I recall the last time you did that I took you with me.” Bouncing a brow of amusement, the bartender returns with another drink right when the box is arriving.
Snorting, Astaroth waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “I would be such a bore to marry. I happen to have quite a strict schedule and I have rules.” The sarcasm drips from his lips with all the amusement he can muster, even if he’s infinitely far more interested in the Maverick opening the gift rather than whatever commentary occurs before hand.
And once the other man does, he’ll spot a porcelain dish, adorned with a skeletal hand carefully held into place for rings and earrings to adorn each and every inch of it. And while to an untrained eye, it would look like a perfectly sculpted clay statue, Danta would know and understand it is exactly made out of what it looked like. Meanwhile, the Butcher says nothing, he simply sips from his drink and watches in quiet delight.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
With narrowed eyes - fine print Danta's ass - the Maverick accepts Asta's comments, both about the non-existant contract and his attempts to unbalance the other man. He recalls that in great detail at least, huffing out a reluctant agreement and accepting his next drink, setting it down on the bar a safe enough distance from the box that he won't risk knocking it over.
"Oh, I know," he drawls regarding the other man's prospects as a marriage partner, "why do you think I keep telling you no?" Smirking, because the only person he can think who might be worse at marriage than Asta is himself, the Maverick settles in and carefully reveals the gift he's been given.
And his jaw drops in open delight, Danta tilting his head - and the skeletal hand - this way and that to inspect it more closely, to see the way it hits the light. "This is exquisite," he purrs, reaching out to delicately touch one of the fingertips - the bones of them, anyway. "You are quite right, Asta. A shopping spree is in order." Laughing and setting the gift down so he might continue to preen and fuss over it, he does flick blue eyes up towards the butcher at least for a second.
"It's beautiful," he reiterates. "Thank you."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Sipping from his drink like a content feline, Astaroth allows every ounce of the suspicion that Danta narrows his eyes at him with. He sets his now empty glass down — still on the job of course — and turns to face the Maverick while the comments of marriage arrive and his sharp grin blossoms amongst a quiet chuckle of laughter. “Quite wise of you.” Comes the easy compliment, but his dark gaze focuses on the box and its reveal.
Honestly, it’s a better reaction than he anticipated, and if he were a bird he’d certainly be puffing up with pride. Instead, the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes deepen with content amongst his smile, inclining his head. “I do hope I may be invited along with, darling. I need some new attire.” After he’d ruined one of his favorite suits getting the hand in the first place, but anyway.
He isn’t as overwhelming and so visible (despite the very bartender helping them having been the one to find the Butcher wrapped up with the Maverick, because obviously they both have a reputation to uphold), but there’s the brief touch of his tail against the blonde’s as he hums and his smile twists a touch softer. “You’re quite welcome.” Asking for a juice mixture of some kind to busy the bartender, he leans in a bit toward him. “Charlie and I brought some back. Obviously it isn’t as good given it’s not so fresh, but, if you would like to indulge, there is more than enough.” Casting his dark gaze back toward him, a brow lifts in a silent addition of let me know, would you?
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Happy enough to be called wise - a compliment that Danta has rarely if ever received in his life - and already thinking of new additions to his repertoire that he might buy to adorn his new jewellery stand, Danta inclines his head to the butcher as if to say but obviously. "I was thinking of perhaps going up to Stormbreak to see what the fuss is about," he remarks - in terms of their shopping districts, anyway. "You went there once, right? Anything good?"
Unlike a previous time together at this very bar, Danta accepts the touch with little more than a sideways glance towards Astaroth, eyes flicking up towards the bartender as he's sent on his way to make some drink or another for the other man. Leaning in automatically as he senses that there's more the butcher wants to say, to anyone looking, they might be sharing some lewd and dark business secret. It certainly seems that way anyway, by the sharp and Cheshire smile that spreads across the Maverick's face.
"You are too good to me," he purrs. "Give Charlie my regards for it as well. It isn't quite the same as killing it myself, but it'll certainly take the edge off."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Ah, I did.” He drawls with all the wistful nostalgia in his tall frame, flashing that sharp toothed grin to Danta. “My favorite shirt is from there. The black one with the gold filigree pattern.” Waving a hand as if to say you know the one, Astaroth hums with content and a bit of excitement at the idea. “We could find quite wonderful things for you there.” His tone is almost dreamy, before it fades in the face of ordering a juice to distract the bartender.
Danta’s grin over the secret is met with an amused brush of his shoulder as they begin to part, a low hum of a laugh leaving him as he nods. “She is quite wonderful.” He hums thoughtfully, before inclining his head toward Danta again with a spark of mischief in his dark blackened eyes. “Shall I have it sent to your room?” He asks, receiving the glass of juice, sipping from it before he notices the glitter still stuck to his hand with a sudden wrinkling of his nose.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Danta, who knows nothing about Asta's shirts beyond feels good, looks good, want to take it off with my teeth, of course nonetheless offers a discerning nod, as if he can picture the exact garment in his mind's eye. Carefully placing the skeletal hand back in the box as they continue to talk, he takes a sip of his new drink and nods gentle agreement. It's a date, he might have said, but opts instead for, "I'll let you know when."
Charlie is wonderful, and Danta makes a mental note to go and see their resident priestess again very soon. "If you'd be so kind," he quips regarding the meal Asta had been able to procure with her, smirking and raising an eyebrow at the glitter the other man notices on his hand. "Oh no," Danta drawls, reaching up to brush the back of his hand across the scruff on Asta's cheek, depositing a good deal of glitter there too.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
