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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!
It was hard for Flora to LeAvE HeR ReSPecTs when she was thinking about whatever Jack and Safrin might be doing at the top of the lighthouse, so rather than trying to leave heartwarming messages on the stonewalls, instead the Doubletake simply cleaned. Using the shawl she'd brought to cover the romper she'd tossed on, though it was still early in the season she'd shed it almost immediately, and was presently using it to dust a few cobwebs away from the bannister that spiralled up toward the top.
For the majority of the afternoon, Flora had floundered around in her bed, before finally rallying long enough to take a shower and then collapsing right back into her sheets. Brief flashes of objectivity told her that whatever she was to Jack would never play out in the long run, and that she was only going to get herself hurt by remaining so close to him and pretending she was satisfied with the way things were. Though her mother's advice to her had been that opening up was the only way of finding love—and that sometimes that did mean getting your heart broken—surely this was just the equivalent of holding onto a runaway horse that she had no business in trying to ride anyway.
With a sigh, Flora ran her fingers through her curls before continuing to swat away cobwebs, both real and imagined.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Jack has had to use his shirt to clean off his face and his hands - enough for him to properly see and be able to handle the rest of his clothing without ruining those too. Once he can grab his pants and his boots without covering them in mud, he carries them out of the shrine - along with the shirt that belongs nowhere else but the trash - and begins to descend the steps of the lighthouse.
His head is clear in a way that's frankly disorientating given how he's used to things going during his visits to Safrin, and as he catches sight of Flora at the bottom of the steps, it's with a straight back and no blood to be seen - only fresh ink and cloying mud that he'd desperately like to wash off.
"She tattooed me," he clarifies, gesturing to the serpent peeking through the stripes of mud Safrin has cleaned away. "And gave me a mud bath, I guess. Give me a sec - I'll just clean up." Draping his clothes over the banister Flora has coincidentally just dusted, Jack is already heading for the entrance where he can take himself clear of Safrin's shrine and hose himself off via magic.
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
Hearing the sound of footsteps at the top of the shrine, ones far softer than she'd have expected from Jack's boots, as the captain descends he'll see Flora peering curiously up into the darkness. Her confusion is only compounded by the fact that, despite apparently being naked, Jack seems utterly fine.
Better than fine, probably, given that he's now presumably immortal.
"Uh—oh." Her eyes drop to his side where she can indeed see fine black lines snaking across his skin beneath the mud. It isn't surprising, not with the stars she already has and the golden shackles which were once on Ronin's wrists. "Guess you're a tattoo guy, now, huh?" She mutters a touch tonelessly as Jack breezes by her with an explanation that she supposes makes sense, even if it leaves her feeling adrift in his wake.
Glancing at his clothes, Flora collects them, following him outside. She'd mentally prepared for him to be a useless mess the way he had before, and seeing him brighteyed, bushy-tailed and apparently having had a mud-wrap was not at all what she'd expected out of the captain.
"No bloody nose this time. That's nice." She hums, sitting down on one of the large boulders that encircled the lighthouse. Somewhere, Aoife's grave lay amidst the stones, but it was too dark to know precisely where.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"I guess so," Jack mutters, glancing briefly to the fine inky outline he can see on his own skin through the beams of moonlight, before his full concentration gives over to getting clean. "Yeah, it's a marked improvement. Wasn't expectin' it, honestly," he continues, his voice echoing back through the doors of the lighthouse as he takes himself off into the long grasses surrounding the Aumakua. Still, he's never going to complain about not having to be out of action for another few days - and he imagines Flora will be glad not to have to gather the pieces of him up to dump in his cabin.
Once clear of the shrine, the captain conjures fine streamers of water with his magic, letting them twist about his body and allowing him to grab it at his own discretion to clean himself off. It doesn't change the fact that he's dripping wet by the end of it, of course, but he feels a little more in control of things. By the time he returns to Flora, it's with a soft breeze starting to dry him off, and given the stickiness of the night, he doesn't mind it at all.
"Well," he says, "since I ain't a complete mess, let's go for a drink?" A strong one?
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
"Look at you." Flora huffs with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Strengthening his magic all on his own, visiting his goddess without needing a stretcher afterward." Clucking her tongue, she raises a brow, not sure why the words sounded like an insult leaving her lips, when in fact it really was a good thing.
Eyeing Jack as he returns, the smile that presses itself onto Flora's lips takes her by surprise as she rolls her eyes at him. "Even the Hanged Man has a dress code." She mutters, her gaze dropping to his bare hips and then back up again as she holds his clothes momentarily hostage if only because it feels good to feel something other than dread and jealousy.
"But I guess I can make an exception for you." Though Flora's house was arguably closer, it'd be easier to paint over the memories of what this night would likely bring if they happened in the Hanged Man rather than her home. "We can use the guild's entrance." She adds, tossing him his clothes with a smirk.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"You've never once arranged a stretcher for me," Jack protests, sweeping his wet hair back from his face - something made a lot easier by the fact that it's not as long or unruly. "That would've made things a lot easier." Hiding his own smile and instead focusing on the magic he uses to dry the rest of his body, soon enough it's only his hair left damp as he reaches out to accept his clothes back - when Flora's damn well ready, of course.
"Well, I've got shoes but no shirt," he remarks as he pulls his pants back on. "Not one anyone'd want to see me in, anyway." Not even Jack is willing to shrug back into the mud-caked garment, focusing instead on lacing his boots before straightening at last to button his pants. "Do I get service?" he wonders. But she makes an exception for him, and the captain takes that as a yes and gestures for her to lead the way - it's her bar and her guild, after all.
"I'd have invited you to talk in a few days," he says quietly as they begin to walk. "But since I'm not catatonic... it makes sense to do it now."
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
"Nope, sure didn't. And that's why we had to sit so long in the Barrows before walking back." Flora agrees, before raising a brow at him. "Oh yeah? And who would have carried it, genius?" Maybe she should have brought a horse and cart, knowing Jack's fondness for horses, not that he'd have been in a position to argue with her, bloody-nosed and wide-eyed as he had been.
"So long as you have pants on, I'm happy." The queen clarifies, stuffing her shawl into the pocket of her romper once her hands were free to do so. "The last thing I need is to be cleaning up ass sweat from my seats."
Angling them toward the pathway which would lead them off of the little island, Flora had hoped to either walk in comfortable silence (doubtful, given the way her trepidation had the waters of her mind constantly sloshing around) or to otherwise continue to make light of what had happened with the void panther. Apparently doing neither, as the queen glances over her shoulder, she huffs softly under her breath. "You'd have invited me to talk?" She repeats, giving her head an amused shake. "You make it sound like I'm one of your crew." Someone who'd brought some grievance to his attention that he hadn't yet had a chance to deal with.
Then again, maybe that's exactly how he thought of it.
"Listen, it's fine. We were both tired."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"I trust you and your good ideas would have been able to think of somethin'," Jack quips back at Flora, raising his eyebrows across at her and hissing out a laugh under his breath as her thoughts fill with horses, of all things. Deciding not to dignify that with a response, he tucks a hand into his pocket and continues to stroll through the swaying grasses with her, Haulani little more than a glittering cluster of lights in the distance.
"A rarity that you prefer me with my pants on," he drawls, tilting his head to her, before she goes and tries to stuff everything that has happened over the past... days? weeks? seasons? back into a box that has become far too small for it. "We were tired and that's why we didn't talk then. Not because it didn't need to happen." Jack's steps slow, the captain pinning her with a look that suggests they probably ought to do this here and now, in fact, before one or both of them gets too drunk to make good choices.
"You're not a member of my crew," he says. "I don't know what you are. That's what I need to talk about."
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
Glancing over her shoulder at him, the banter has her shoulders relaxing down ever so slightly as she smirks. "You'd say that, but minute for minute, you're much more useful to me with them on." Which, yes, was a cheapshot about how long he lasted in bed,>>>>>>.
Flexing her toes in her sandals, Flora combs her fingers through her hair before noticing that Jack had slowed at her side. Turning slowly, his gaze has a cold shot of adrenaline rushing up her arms and sliding down her spine before pooling uncomfortably in her belly. Running her hands up her arms where goosebumps have broken out despite the heat, Flora glances around at the empty beach as if yet another void panther might spring out and stop this conversation from happening.
"It doesn't need to happen." She says in a small voice, having to tug her gaze away from a spray of seagrasses. "I just got carried away." The fingers that had unlaced the initial knots in her mind had been summarily punished, broken that afternoon while she lay in bed, in fact, if only because broken fingers were easier to mend than broken hearts. "Because of what happened, it.." Forcing herself to meet his eyes, there's little reason to paint a smile on her lips, but she does it anyway. "..it won't happen again, okay?"
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
It almost escapes his lips - that of course Jack is more useful with his pants on, because his tongue does all of the important work - but already that boulder is rolling down from Fun Mountain and into whatever mire they're about to start wading through. Only already the captain can almost feel the walls slamming down around those parts of Flora's mind that she wants to keep from him, the parts he could try to pry open with force if he really had to, but that he leaves well alone as she starts to speak.
"Flora." Despite pointedly saying that she wasn't a member of his crew, the tone of Jack's voice is exactly the sort he'd use when trying to get the attention of one of his men, and he has to take a second to tone himself down. "I'll only press this one more time," he says slowly. "Because if we don't talk about it, things will only get more complicated. But if you don't wanna deal with it, I'm not gonna make you." He raises his eyebrows at her.
"So which is it? Here, or The Hanged Man?" What's actually going on, or what they're very good at pretending is happening?
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
Where Flora had expected Jack's admonishment to come in a far softer tone, the one a disappointed dad might use, it really did make much more sense for it to be the scolding sort of voice she'd heard him take with his crew. It's who he was, after all. Despite the flair of stubbornness that had her wanting to just walk off, Flora knows better than to think she could sass Jack now and expect him to pick up these threads with the same sort of care and concern later on when she was actually ready for it.
Letting her eyes drop toward his boots, the queen continues to rub one hand up the side of her arm as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her thoughts suddenly felt like they were in a freefall—like too many stars shooting past and threatening to blind her—for her to know what she was meant to latch onto, what she was meant to say.
"I can do better." She vows hastily, forgetting all the good advice she'd given herself earlier that day about getting out before she got herself properly hurt, and instead opting to take the blame for everything that had transpired between them. "I know it's my fault that things are like this, and I can just..." Months ago she'd told him not make her fall in love with him, but at this point, was it even his fault anymore? "..stop."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Running his tongue across his teeth as if to bite back all the responses he wants to make, or to try to metaphorically snatch at all the scraps of thought that go flying past with only vague meanings or half-formed conclusions, Jack steels his shoulders and looks to the sky as if to plead for help. From whom he doesn't know - he's got a feeling that Safrin has only a salacious wink and a pat on the ass to help him along.
"You don't need to do better. It's not about anythin' bein' your fault," he manages to cut in at last, his hand leaving his pocket so he can take a few steps across the grass towards her. "I just don't understand why. What the fuck about me was good enough to love?" Having said it out loud, it feels like a knife thrown to the ground between them.
"I'm a really fuckin' bad guy, Flora. Not the type people write songs about so girls will want to fix 'em - I am trash. I killed a guy a couple weeks ago, for fuck's sake, just to do this fuckin' quest." He shrugs his shoulders. "And you, of all people on this shitty rock, deserve someone about as opposite to me as you can get." So Koa, basically.
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
It does feel exactly like that, a knife between them, so much so that Flora visibly flinches as Jack says the word. Love. It felt forbidden, a rusty lock that having been pried open would never close properly again. Not being a mindreader herself, Flora didn't have the luxury of feeling the captain's mind carve out the shape of the e and the v in the dying moments before they'd both cum in each other's arms days before; in Flora's mind, she was alone on this cliff, her heels already hanging over the edge from having backed away from it as far as she could. All there was left to do was throw herself off and hope she survived the fall.
"It...it isn't about why." She stammers uncertainly. There were reasons she could give of course, but the why of loving someone wasn't the sort of thing that could be reduced down to a handful of words that were in any way satisfying. None that she could think of, anyhow.
But then, unusual as it was, Jack goes and says something so wildly dissonant to the trajectory of her thoughts that it stops Flora in her tracks. Frowning at him, her eyes dark in the starlight, the queen gives her head a distracted little shake, confusion furrowing her brow. "...and?" No, he was no white knight, yes he'd murdered people (recently, apparently); while Flora didn't agree he was trash, she could only shrug at his idea of what it was she deserved.
Even so, for all of his reasons (excuses?), what of it?
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"You can't really believe that." Not don't, because clearly Flora does believe it, but the captain's raise of his eyebrows suggests that he's still having a hard time with it. Raking both hands through his hair now, he tries to arrange his own zig-zagging thoughts at the same time as his magic automatically tries to parse through the puzzle pieces of Flora's mind.
"Fuck, sometimes I wish you could just--" Gesturing vaguely at himself, at the space between them, it's a very rare thing indeed for Jack to admit it would be easier if the Doubletake could just read his mind. Alas, here they are, messy and one-sided as it is.
"And?" he echoes, letting his hands drop. "You've no idea the things you could be, the shit you could accomplish. You don't even let yourself believe it." He scoffs. Jack knows, though - of course he does - and it's both why he keeps finding himself in Flora's orbit, and also why he'll as likely ruin her as he will lift her up towards her goals.
Letting out a long sigh and straightening up, the captain forces the tension from his shoulders, forces his mind into a sea of calculated calm. "You're tellin' me you'd be happy, then? Lovin' me, havin' me slip home at all hours with blood on my hands and a price on my head, knowin' I don't know how to give you what you need in return?" It isn't a matter of being incapable, because Jack might be functionally immortal now, but he's always been human, however deeply buried that core of him might be.
But having never having been given love to understand how to hand it back out, it will be a messy and dirty learning curve with no guarantee of any success, and every chance of combustion and failure. And he doesn't know that Flora knows that.
believer, believe it or not you'll know when it ends and how it goes
