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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!
Wincing a little, if not because of the destruction (he couldn't care less about that or how much of it she wants to bring down onto the little houseboat) then because of her form, if anything, Jack is only ever inclined to intervene to teach her how to properly throw her weight into the swing. But she's already moved from the shelving to the cabinets, a large and jagged bit of wood pinging off the shield he'd made to bury itself deeply into the ceiling. He's still raising his eyebrow up at it when he feels the touch against his magic, the captain blinking back at Flora in surprise.
Straightening up from the doorway and stepping back into the room like a moth to fire, his name written against the Doubletake's thoughts might as well have been a lasso tossed around his neck and tightened enough to bring him stumbling. "You'll not be offended if I put this out of the way, I hope," he rumbles, reaching past her to carefully slip the gnarled, rusted club out of her hands, dropping it to the ground so he might step closer still, the shield of air around her vanishing only to be replaced by the warmth of his hands.
"I could get used to watchin' you break stuff," he adds, smiling and drawing her flush against him to lean in for a kiss that purposely not enough.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
Initially, Flora's fingers tighten around the club, her desire for destruction not completely satisfied, and yet as the warmth of Jack's body hits her, she lets him pry it from her, flinching against him as it slams to the ground.
"Yeah? Then why'd you take away my club?" She wonders a touch breathlessly, only for the air to catch in the back of her throat as Jack's lips part from hers far too quickly. Mouthing some silent plea into the space he's suddenly put between them, Flora huffs out a stiff breath as a spark catches in the chaos of her thoughts and begins to kindle in the darkness.
As a particularly aggressive wave has the little houseboat swaying beneath them, the queen twists her arms around Jack's neck despite having acquired quite a steady pair of sea legs. Still, mentally tattered and exhausted though she was, it wasn't difficult for Flora to want to shamelessly flirt with the captain. Not when it left her feeling so good; not when it left her feeling something rather than the gnawing hollow darkness she'd been plagued by ever since she woke up in the little bed not five feet from where they stood.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"Because there's somethin' else I have in mind for right now," Jack says, his laughter all in his eyes as he hears the club thud to the ground, his hands greedy for every part of her he can get them on suddenly, as if the single ember of desire in Flora's thoughts has been enough to kindle his own into a blaze. "You can sink the boat for all I care, but only when we're done."
Shivering in a breath as the wave throws her closer against him, the Doubletake may or may not be surprised to find Jack already very much ready for her as she twines her arms around him and presses close. Exhaling that same breath in a huff that cuts short as his lips find her own again, the captain backs them up towards the wall next to the little bed. He kisses her until his lungs burn for air, until his fingers have found their way beneath her sweater of their own accord, and he glances sidelong at the bed before raising a brow down at her.
There's something to be said about reclaiming one's trauma, but with the risk of the space triggering Flora more than empowering her, he'd quite like to be sure before he commits to anything. (Because, as the Doubletake probably knows very painfully herself, it's been weeks).
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
She hadn't thought it was what she wanted—the image of Jack pressing her down into the sheets where she'd been held captive had only left her feeling hollow and full of anger—but it had only taken seeing the spark she felt inside reflected in the storm blue of Jack's eyes to make her realize how very wrong she'd been. "I'm going to hold you to that," she purrs, caring little for the consequences of sinking whoever's boat this was, and thinking only of the calloused press of Jack's fingers against her skin and how every scrap of wood they stood upon deserved nothing better than to die a lonely death at the bottom of the sea.
Letting her feet slide against the flooring so as not to lose her balance as Jack guides her backward, Flora's hands grow similarly greedy in how they sweep across the captain's strong shoulders before one coils up into his dark hair. Every press of his lips and tongue has a fire-bright pulse of warmth sweeping away the Doubletake's more destructive thoughts as his wandering touch offers up something that finally begins to fill the void Flora had worried was now a permanent fixture in the landscape of her mind.
Trying and failing to catch her breath as Jack pulls away, Flora only spares the bed a cursory glance before she's twisting in the captain's arms in an effort to pull him down with her. "I don't care," she has time to whisper before her fingers demandingly tug at his hair. You make everything better; this room, their deaths, her whole life.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"I hope you do. I'll help," Jack offers with a dark smile, before her fingers are dragging at his hair and she's all but wrestling him down onto the bed. With just enough sense to shrug out of his coat and toss it to the side, the captain does indeed press her into the sheets, blanketing her with his body and taking the next kiss from her lips, hungry for every touch she can offer, for the fire of her thoughts that have come to life after so long, it feels, of them flickering like dying embers.
Fuck, he might have whispered if his mouth wasn't occupied, his lips grazing along the side of her neck as his hands push her sweater up enough that he can drop his attention lower. Whilst it's true that he might have found his head buried between her thighs at any point since their return from the Greatwood, it's nothing compared to how he might follow it up, and he's suddenly and sharply keen for the feel of her body around his own, for the moans he might swallow up in his kisses and the sound of his name pulled from her lips.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
01-01-2025, 02:13 PM (This post was last modified: 01-01-2025, 02:15 PM by Flora.)
flora
Kicking off her shoes as Jack shed his coat if Flora was worried about there being some similarity in the way her father had briefly blanketed her in the seconds before he'd bound her mother in his arms (and other assorted limbs, ew) and the way Jack was now, she was almost immediately relieved of that concern as she felt nothing but a fresh flush of arousal surge so strongly through her body that she was forced to pull her lips away from Jack's lest she chokes on the force of her own moan.
Hearing the ragged sound of her breathing as some faraway pulse of noise given how loud the feeling of Jack's lips was as they brushed against her neck, it was all Flora could do not to wriggle beneath his explorations in order to force his mouth back against hers. It was everything and yet not enough, and while she hadn't bothered to put on a bra that morning (what with life seeming like a bleak and uninteresting place to be), now it felt like there was still far too much material between Jack's body and hers.
"I want you," she moans, before yanking her sweatshirt off and tossing it somewhere on the floor. The words weren't strictly necessary given the way her hands were still greedily reaching for him or how her legs were already trying to coil around Jack's waist, but even so, they felt good to say and even better to feel. "Gods I want you so much."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Shifting enough - and only briefly - for Flora to tug off her sweatshirt, she'll have to be the one to help relieve him of his own clothes if that's something she wants, because Jack is far too occupied by the bronze of her skin and the warmth radiating off her to care about much else. "Which part of me?" he asks, his voice little more than a rough purr as he kisses down her collarbones and flicks his tongue against the peak of one of her breasts.
"This?" he whispers, his mouth dragging lower. "Or this?" His fingers squeeze against her thighs, aiming to peel away her pants and stroke against her curves with calloused possessiveness. "Or do you want me to just cut straight to the chase?" Drifting back up the length of her body, he presses his lips back against her own, moaning softly into her mouth as his hips roll forward against her, the hardness of him through his own pants enough to make even that amount of friction feel unbearable.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
It's an unfair question, one that had Flora biting at her lower lip to stop the sly spread of her smile even as the lavender slant of her thoughts began to gild and darken. To say it was his cock she wanted was to put too blunt a point on it; what she wanted was all of him, and somehow that only felt achievable when he was buried all the way inside of her, physically feeling everything that she did, rather than just siphoning it second hand from her mind.
To that end, while normally Flora wouldn't hesitate to let her greed take over, much as the majority of her arousal was pure lust, there was an uncurrent of need she was helpless to deny. Clever and quick as she knew Jack could be with little more than his tongue, the distance it would put between them seemed hardly worth the climax he'd be able to drag from her. Arching her back and then lifting her hips in order to facilitate him stripping her bare, the fact that what she next felt pressed against her was the length of him caged behind cloth and metal had her gasping with a sudden barbed hostility that had the edges of her thoughts flickering into flame.
"You know the answer to that," she panted against his lips as she reached between them, hips twisting in an effort to unbutton his pants and then edge them down his hips with the heels of her feet.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"You're right - I do," Jack mumbles in response, his breath hitching against her lips as her hand slithers between them to relieve a fraction of the pressure against the front of his pants. With her thoughts growing molten against the tide of his magic, the captain is already losing a battle of wills with himself, let alone anything else Flora might desire.
Luckily, though, they're absolutely aligned in their plans, and he shifts back just enough to let her inch his pants down from around his hips; already his hands clutch and press at her skin, as if he might be able to draw her closer even than their current positioning allows. "Fuck," he whispers into her mouth, his kisses drifting along the soft curve of her jaw towards the crook of her neck even as he drives himself forward into her tight, wet heat.
Anchoring himself against the bed with one hand curled into the sheets, never has the captain felt lost or adrift in the throes of sex, but gods, the feel of Flora in that initial thrust is enough for him to lose his footing on the here and now, the captain panting a soft curse against her throat and wishing there was more space, wishing he'd kicked his pants all the way off, wishing it hadn't been too fucking long since he'd last had her.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
Leaning her head back against the bed as Jack's kisses drifted toward her collarbone, as soon as she'd shoved his pants down far enough, Flora coiled her legs high around his waist, her ankles nearly crossing over one another as she waited with a moan caught between her teeth. Flora's anticipation was cut short by the thrust of the captain's hips, and not unlike him, the queen was sent reeling by the way Jack simultaneously anchored them together while also breaking them free from everything else. Unlike the feeling of being unmoored that had followed her around all of her waking hours, that Flora was able to feel a sense of freedom despite being back in the place where her autonomy had been torn away from her, said more than she ever could about the effect Jack had on her.
Having not even realized that she'd been moaning his name until her lungs burned for air, Flora hiccuped in a breath as her hands groped at the bottom of the captain's shirt, pawing at it until it bunched around his shoulders where she'd (eventually) be able to remove it. For the moment she was content sweeping her fingertips against the valleys and crags of his muscles, finding purchase in the ridges that months spent training harder than they ever had before, had sculpted along his back.
Knowing it wouldn't last long but not caring, Flora tightened the grip of her legs around Jack's waist as she curled her hips up, as if she might somehow tease just a little bit more out of him. "Gods, Jack—"
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Having to shift away from her neck where he'd been busy leaving a possessive mark that will tell everyone on the ship what they've been up to, Jack helps as best he can to wrestle his shirt over his head before he's all but collapsing against her again. The thrust of his hips is hard if not particularly fast, as if it might keep him from the brink for a little longer, and he moans against her shoulder as her body arches up to meet him.
Wanting to simultaneously pin her to the sheets and fuck her mercilessly until they both cum, and also to roll over to let her ride him until she's spent, for once - for perhaps one of the first times - the captain is caught in his own desire for pleasure as much as he is Flora's. The hand that grips the outside of her thigh is hard enough to bruise, though he remembers himself enough to shift so that her fingers might slip between them if that's what she wants.
And if not, they both know he'll happily oblige for her.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
Rarely one to be lazy in bed, and while missionary might not normally be one of their goto positions, given the ordeal of the past few days, there's something wildly comforting and deeply satisfying about the rise and fall of Jack's hips as his body continues to pin hers beneath him. Where magic had kept her imprisoned in this bed for gods knew how long, now that it was Jack doing it, Flora was able to take pleasure in the feeling of being restricted as she was normally wont to do.
"Have me," she purrs into his dark hair, her wicked encouragement colouring her thoughts a deep ruby that reflected the growing flames threatening to grow wild in her belly. "Have me like I'm yours." If she couldn't be safe in her own childhood home, if she couldn't trust her own family, what she could be—and what she wanted to be now more than ever—was Jack's.
Reluctantly releasing her hold of him in order to slide her hand down her stomach and between her thighs, the first brush of her fingertip against her clit had the fires in Flora's belly exploding outward. Tensing her thighs as if to capture the sensation, the queen hissed out Jack's name as her hips scooped upward, her heels against his lower back growing insistent rather than merely following his rhythm. "Like.." Hiccuping out a sudden moan as her fingers began to roll faster and faster over her clit, Flora felt her eyes beginning to roll back into her head as star-bright pins and needles began to nip at her feet heralding the slow surge of her orgasm. "..like you love me."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Jack feels the slip of her thoughts as they align into something sharp and fiery and focused, the captain's breath catching in his throat as if some part of him has surged up to join them without his full permission. The hand buried in the sheets moves to capture Flora's - the one that hasn't snaked wickedly between her thighs - pinning her wrist to the bed so he might better hold her, have her, fuck her.
"That should be easy," he hisses breathlessly, the words spoken against the soft column of her throat, "Because you are. And I do." You're mine. And I love you. The words aren't spoken aloud directly in part because, and gods forgive the captain, he's a little distracted right now, the rhythm of his hips growing faster and more impatient, spurred on by the press of Flora's heels into his back and the crackling ecstasy he can feel with the rise of her orgasm.
"Cum for me," he all but demands, fighting a losing battle with his own pleasure, particularly as another rough wave sends him pitching into her as if Frey themselves had orchestrated it.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
Twisting her shoulders and straining against his hand, partially to remind Jack of how wonderfully gravity-defying her breasts were and partially to test and tease against his grip, Flora's lashes flutter over her eyes in order to blink herself back into the moment. There were some moments she allowed her eyes to slip close so that she could taunt them both with the sorts of images she so often conjured in moments like these, but after having not had Jack for so long, there was nothing her imagination could concoct that was better than reality.
Jack's agreements are like a key working in a rusty lock that nevertheless releases with ease such that his demand is hardly necessary. No doubt Jack will disagree based on the way Flora's back arches off of the bed and a crimson wave of arousal surges through her in response to the words. Close as she the queen doesn't allow her fingers to move any faster, instead drawing out the slow expanding force of her orgasm almost to the point of pain, such is the tension that has her thighs trembling against Jack and her fingers tightly curling against his.
It's the rogue wave that sends Flora over the edge as the break in pace has her inhaling sharply; the careful and slow coaxing of her orgasm is suddenly all but bathed in fire and heat and need. Having had little time for no one fucks me like you do's or harder, harder, just like that's, hopefully, the way the Doubletake nearly screams Jack's name loud enough for those loitering nearby on the Ark to hear, will sufficiently soothe his ego. If not, she's always willing to try again.
Having not even touched herself since both she and Jack had died, as Flora's orgasm balloons through her every limb, leaving nothing behind but endless satisfaction and an expansiveness she couldn't put to name, she's left stuttering for breath as her body trembles and writhes beneath the captain's, needing for him to join her in the endlessness of freefall.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
