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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!
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
He should have assumed Danta would be watching, but it still doesn’t pull away from the fact that if given any chance at any time, the butcher would love to dance with Torchline’s medic again.
As it stands, though, the Maverick shifts to sink down into his side so that they might actually talk rather than Danta becoming his blanket (not that he minds, of course). The butcher turns a little into him, arms still wound around his middle and up his back, gentle strokes and attention paid to the smooth and soft skin.
At least his dramatics aren’t entirely one sided, as Danta reminds him of that day they had a little spat and Asta could not sleep for the life of him, how they ended up back in each other’s rooms — not before the butcher had a momentary panic, of course.
Because it had been precisely when he’d opened the door that he’d seen Danta and immediately pinned him to the wall before realizing just who was within his hold. “I remember it did not last.” He hums, fingertips walking down the Maverick’s spine as his grin twists a touch brighter. “Apologies for pinning you against the wall.” He says before mischief flutters into his dark gaze and his voice drops into a playful purr. “Even if you liked it.”
Sinking all too readily into the offered affection - so casually given, these days, but no less hard won considering their past - Danta slips his fingers up through the back of Asta's dark hair, grazing the back of his neck with soft touches as if to continue apologising for his brutish handling of him earlier. "I quite like this," he informs him offhandedly, twisting a lock of silken midnight through his fingers and giving it a gentle tug. "Are you going to keep growing it?"
As for their situation back in the Outer Islands, the Maverick can only snort at the reminder of being pinned back against Asta's door, his back arching against the wicked fingers that walk the ladder of his spine. "You can apologise all you like - I'm still waiting for the day when you do it again," he says, leaning in to kiss the objection he feels is coming away from the butcher's lips. "It only counts if it's by accident, though. I love seeing you all uptight and menacing."
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Fingers slip through the long dark hair, caressing along his skin in a tender touch as opposed to the intensity of the massage earlier. It’s a sensation that Asta adores, evident in how he nestles in a touch more comfortable to let the Maverick continue the path he paves while the butcher does the same against Danta’s spine. “I am not sure. I think it may be at a good length right now. What do you think?” He hums, raising a dark brow to feel the gentle tug despite not being put off by it in the slightest.
His hair in question had grown since he’d been awakened and cut once to keep it so the length remained long enough to reach his shoulders and fan out a fraction along his spine — something he thinks he prefers as opposed to the opposite thought of cutting it short.
Ah, but then the mischief settles in and the apology not-apology is aired and Astaroth flashes sharp teeth as it blooms into a smirk to feel Danta arch against his hand at his back. His fingertips press in harder, possessive and clingy, and before he can get that retort off the tip of his tongue, the Maverick is kissing it away.
“I am afraid you will have to take me by surprise more often, darling.” He tuts while his hand smooths down Danta’s spine toward his lower back. “If you want it to be by accident.” Is he already mourning the loss of the ideas that have slipped into his head? Absolutely. Is he going to admit them? Unlikely.
Taking Asta's lead and continuing to tease his fingers through the other man's hair, Danta hums his consideration and curls the lock of hair around his finger as if trying to imagine it shorter or longer. "I think I like it like this as well," he decides in the end, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "Let me know if you ever do want it trimmed, though." It's likely of little surprise for Asta to learn that Danta knows how to cut hair given his own appearance day to day.
Humming his lascivious approval to be clasped closer in the butcher's arms, there was a time when even the thought of being possessed by someone would have filled the Maverick with horror. But here and now with Asta? He can't get enough of it, reaching out with a free hand to fumble for one of the blankets so he can haphazardly drag it across their bodies. "Don't tempt me," he purrs to Asta. "I'll make it my goal for the next season to sneak up on you whenever I can."
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Dark eyes close as Danta takes his time imagining just whether or not he liked it at this length or a different one, and it has the added bonus of the kiss to his forehead being a surprise. A welcome one, as it stands. “Mm, it could use one.” He admits, letting the smile retake on his features as he blinks his dark gaze (made darker in the low light of the den) open to scan the Maverick’s face as he clasps him closer, taking a moment to tangle them even further.
It reminds him of the first time he’d slipped up in admitting as close to feelings as he got, where Danta had recoiled from being caged despite it not being the butcher’s intention. And now? Now he can twist and wind himself all around the Theocrat, a box of the blonde’s own making, complete with adoration and love. And gods if it doesn’t feel like this is how his life should have been.
He shifts a little as the blanket gets pulled over them, legs tangling with Danta’s in time with the low chuckle that leaves him, warm and inviting. “So far I have not been opposed to your goals.” He starts to say, as if in warning that he might actually find it entertaining. “However, I do not think I’m ready for grey hair just yet.” He bounces a brow as his hands widen against Danta’s hips, still possessive and clingy but with an air of taunting within the gesture.
"Oh? In that case, the next time we can be bothered to get out of bed, let me know and I'll make you beautiful." And because it's Asta, maybe Danta won't even do anything unexpected or drastic when in control of the scissors. Who knows? It's not a problem for right now either way, not as the butcher winds himself more closely around him until it's impossible to move without disturbing the tangle of limbs they've become.
Not that Danta has any intention of going anywhere, the Maverick nosing into the side of Asta's neck and scoffing a hot breath against his skin. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Forty is just around the corner and all," he teases, if only because he knows it'll get a rise out of the other man. Danta couldn't care less as he's already said before.
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“You had better.” Comes the empty threat – because they both know just how much the butcher cherishes his appearance. For him to trust Danta enough that he might not get up to his usual shenanigans is saying something. For now, though, he’s content to let that thought lie because he isn’t planning on getting up anytime soon with how sore his back still is and how tangled up they are in the warmth and dark din of their den.
At least, until Danta’s warm breath is felt against his skin and the comment has him immediately groaning and shaking his head before his bearded cheek presses against the golden crown of the Maverick’s in defeat. “You are a menace, you know.” He groans in lieu of shut upppp Danta. “I suppose I could always purchase dye if it came to it.” He drawls, his tone exhausted as if it was just another necessity to keep up appearances.
"Mm, I know," Danta says, his smile more than audible and his tone smug. Letting his arms slip from around Asta's neck to trickle down his sides before looping around his waist, he presses a few kisses to his throat as if to smooth down whatever feathers he'd ruffled. "You could," he agrees, shifting enough to peep up at him. "Or you could just be distinguished." Kissing his way up from Asta's throat to his cheeks, Danta draws back enough to gaze at him with adequate scrutiny.
"No greys for now," he concludes, even reaching up to feather his fingers through the front of the butcher's hair towards his temples, where any signs of stress might have popped up over the past few seasons. "None that I can see, anyway. Besides, I'd prefer not to think about getting old when we've only just stopped trying to kill each other."
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Half of him wonders if Danta does know, given the smug tone he possesses. But the question doesn’t reach the air between them as the Maverick readjusts within the tangle of limbs they’d become, pressing little warm kisses to his throat that the butcher can’t help but to melt with. It drags his touch a bit more distracted, eyes shutting as his nose wrinkles to hear the term distinguished. “Distinguished Gentleman Butcher is far too long of a title.” He drawls playfully, even if his tone edges toward being serious.
He's just being a brat to be a brat.
He is rewarded, though, with the fingers that glide through his dark hair, paying special attention to the temple region, just below the hard obsidian of his pronged horns. “I cannot imagine you growing old.” He admits, tilting his head to let his dark gaze scan the Maverick’s face now that they’ve parted enough that he can. “However, shall we take it one season at a time?” One hand abandons Danta’s hip to seek out one of the hands that had feathered through his hair, collecting it gently within his reach to lift to his lips to brush a soft kiss against his knuckles.
"I see," Danta drawls, his laughter barely contained. "We wouldn't want you to have to waste too many syllables to introduce yourself. Dye it is." And honestly, given that he's something of a vain creature himself (though nothing on Asta's level, so it seems), they both now he'll assist the other man in any way he can to present himself to the world as he likes. As for him growing old? The Maverick barks out a laugh and shrugs his shoulders in agreement.
"Me neither," he admits, "but I always just figured that meant I was going to die young." Which, yes, morbid, but with an upbringing like Danta's and a life lived under the thumb, it's not all that surprising that he might have been thinking about - or even savouring - the idea of his life being cut short.
One season at a time it is, though, and before he can come up with something witty and clever, Asta silences him with a gesture as simple as a kiss to the back of his hand. "I think I can do that," he mumbles, waiting until the butcher lowers his hand before he melts forward, claiming his lips for himself properly instead.
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“The fight would have likely already started by the time I got to Ehhntalman.” He complains swiftly, though his lips quirk into an amused smirk as his accent pours over the word – as if in real time. Distinguished Ge-- would be as long as it took before something broke out or someone simply lost interest.
Either way, the amusement remains even if the subject matter turns more morbid, because he has to agree with the thought process. He’d always assumed Danta would die young, too, though admittedly in the past there had been a tiny portion of him that wished it to be by his hands. Now, though? His hands are for nothing more than keeping the Maverick safe and happy, and worshipping him and Dygra. “Well, I certainly hope that has changed.” Because if he’s only had just a taste of this, so help him if Danta gets taken from him.
He imagines it’s probably the same in reverse, despite not feeling the need to air such a question. Especially when he lowers the hand that had laid so many scars on the blonde’s body from the warm press of his lips, when Danta leans in and steals his lips for himself. And Astaroth melts in absolute adoration, humming a soft note into the Maverick's mouth as he drowns himself in the kiss, greedy and clingy (talk of mortality evidently did that to him), his hand letting Danta’s go so that he can cup his cheek and cradle his jaw, fingertips threading through bed tousled gold.
"Ah, see, you've got to learn to multitask," Danta sasses gently. "You introduce yourself as you're cracking heads open with your cane. That way you have time to say the whole title." Nodding wisely and savouring the heat that has kindled between them like a furnace, Asta evidently isn't the only one feeling a little needy as a result of the morbid topic of conversation. "It absolutely has," he assures the other man, all playfulness vanishing from his expression in time for him to steal that kiss from the butcher's lips, unable to get enough of him.
Shifting his body almost wthout giving it permission, the Maverick rolls them enough to blanket the butcher once again, wanting nothing more than to press himself as close as he can. "It's times like this I start wondering what I can do to stop from dying at all." Because Asta is right - they've just found this sort of happiness, and it's making Danta feel very, very late to the party.
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“Is that so?” Astaroth hums to Danta’s sass, acting as if he’s completely unaware of what it’s like to in fact multitask. “Ensure that they listen by utilizing force.” It has a nice ring to it, if he’s being honest – but the idea is still laughable if only for the fact it’s just a moniker he’s forcing them to listen to.
Either way, the playfulness vanishes as mortality comes into play and the butcher is more than content to dive headfirst into the siren song of the Maverick’s perfect cupid bow lips. Enough that he shifts easily enough, rolling onto his back for the other Ancient to blanket him once more, dragging the haphazardly tugged blankets with them in the process. His free hand smooths down his spine to his lower back while the other remains curled into the nape of Danta’s neck, keeping him close even as they part and his words brush against the butcher’s lips.
“Immortality, I would assume?” The thought of immortality had already crossed his mind too. So long as he got to keep this, the idea of the two of them being immortal bastards plaguing Caido for even more centuries is alluring as it is exciting. And yet, it feels impossible all the same, but at least it's nice to dream once in a while.
For now, though, the butcher hums his answer against the plump bottom lip of the other Ancient, refraining from nipping out of pure fun in order to annoyingly nuzzle his nose against the blonde's.
Comfortably sprawled atop the other Ancient and playfully pinning him to the sheets while making out and discussing immortality, Danta has to wonder what anyone ever has to feel sad about. "Mm, that'd do it. The eternal youth one, though, not the unkillable one. I reckon we can handle that part ourselves." It seems easy enough, right? Smiling against Asta's lips and letting out a scoff of faux outrage as he's obnoxiously nuzzled, rest assured that if the Maverick were in bed with anyone else right now, their clothes would be cinders and there'd be a lot more than nuzzling going on.
But with their agreement made and the memory of his previous transgressions still fresh, it's easy to curb desire in lieu of comfort and warmth, especially when he's just abused the other man through the medium of massage. Pressing another soft kiss to the butcher's lips, eventually Danta peels himself back into a sitting position, smiling down at Asta and tilting his head. "In the interest of taking it one season at a time, Longheat will be over before we know it. Can I interest you in going out and basking in the sun for a bit?"
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
