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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!
Moaning softly at the arm that slips around his shoulders, evidently the painkillers are doing their work and then some, because all Danta feels is relief to have the butcher so close again without feeling him all but fall apart at the seams. Continuing to tease his dark locks back behind his horns in the style he's so used to seeing, it's only as Asta slumps against him does he realise that the question that has fallen from his lips is heartbreakingly earnest.
"Are you kidding?" he whispers, smiling another kiss against his stubbled cheek. "What did I do to deserve you? You swan in here all violent and charming and aloof, with your stupid sweet tooth and your darlings and my dears, and then you fuck me so perfectly that I don't even know I've fallen in love with you until it's too late. And then - and then," he adds, as if this is the real insult, "I find out you love me back? Me? That's what you did. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself." He grins.
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
run, baby, run, run for your life i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Content to be fussed over, only because he can hardly think to do it himself — the most the butcher can do is brush his thumb across Danta’s shoulder, tug softly at the soft strands of blonde that brush against his skin. The question is earnest, and the answer is one that has him holding his breath lest he feel the sting of the tears again and the tightness of his throat.
In stark contrast to the pull of Danta’s cheeks in the grin he flashes, Asta feels anything but that charming and suave arrogant man that had woken from stone. “Of course it’s you.” He says in a tone more akin to ‘how could it not be?’ But his voice is gravelly and sharp and it hitches when he clutches him impossibly tighter.
The pain meds are doing their job, certainly, with the way Asta tries to swallow against the tightness of his throat and he ducks his head as another few tears drip down his cheeks, vanishing into the stubble of his beard. “Ugh, stop being so fucking sweet.” He hisses as if annoyed, though only for the tears that drop and not the compliments themselves.
Feeling his own chest grow tight at that response, Danta is at least able to hide the emotion swelling within him behind a crooked grin, and as Asta tucks his chin down he's able to lean in and press a warm kiss to the butcher's forehead, as if to pretend he hasn't noticed the fresh tears that track down his cheeks. "No," he says, his voice rough but the tone just as playfully petulant, "I won't."
Kissing him again, Danta inhales a slow, deep breath before releasing it, as if to finally let himself relax in the aftermath of all that has just happened. "I love you," he whispers to Asta, "and I'm here. I'll always be here." And he doesn't plan on getting between the butcher's teeth and his imaginary horrors again any time soon, so he feels quite comfortable, in fact, when it comes to finally shifting off the other man's lap and beneath the blankets.
"Ah, I forgot," he adds, reaching for the tea he's brought them, flames wreathing the cup to keep it hot. "Here. Another one of your habits that I've taken on, apparently."
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
run, baby, run, run for your life i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
If it weren’t for the tears, he’d roll his eyes. But keeping his head ducked against his chest, feeling the warmth of Danta’s lips against his forehead. Instead of it, he snorts in response to the petulance, sighing lightly before he sniffles a little and pulls himself together, pressing into the kiss like it was a lifeline.
“I love you too, Danta.” His voice is as quiet as it is raw, releasing his hold on his lover to let him off his lap and under the blankets. With the absence of him, however momentarily, the butcher leans forward slightly and crosses his legs beneath the weighted blanket. Now that his hand is free, he reaches up to swipe at the tears that stain his cheeks.
He’s mostly together enough when he takes the warm cup of tea, cradling it in his one hand as he lets a soft smile grace his face as he peers down into it. “There could be worse habits you could pick up.” He drawls, before he takes a sip to soothe his sore and hoarse throat. “Thank you, though.”
"Mm, it's true. I might have gotten into the habit of glaring at people from the shadows of the Dusklight," Danta agrees, and he has the audacity to flash a playful grin towards the other man as he collects his own teacup, leaning casually against him and turning his head to drop an affectionate kiss against Asta's bare shoulder. "Not that it isn't a good habit to have, for my head of security," he adds. "I just doubt it will bring in all that much business if I do it." As the face of the Dusklight, he should probably be amiable at the very least.
Straightening up to take a sip of the hot drink, Danta lets out a sigh that has him relaxing further, his hands cradling the cup and leeching the extra warmth away from it. Things feel more settled than they were, but he's reluctant to get too comfortable in case he feels the pull of sleep again; not that they don't both need it, but he doubts Asta will so much as let his eyes shut for the next however long. So, instead, the Maverick focuses on the here and now and the vague plans he's made for them.
"If I send note to the Temple, do you think you could get breakfast? It's early, but not too early," he figures.
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
run, baby, run, run for your life i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
The agreement and the teasing wear on him, so mentally fractured as he is, it’s very easy to slip into the comfortable banter to try and push away the self loathing that has come to the forefront of his mind. “I suppose it depends on who you are glaring at.” He replies – because as he’s found out from working here, there’s a variety of their patrons who are into that kind of thing. And Astaroth, despite claiming he can be an impartial person and does not judge initially, does have a tendency of letting it be so easily read on his face.
(Insert the Cillian Murphy interview reactions)
He draws silent to sip from the cup, to let the drugs to their work and to try and warm up all of the hollow feelings in his chest and body, trying to repair the fractured mentality that has wormed its way in. He finds his gaze drifting to the bandaged arm again and again, until his lover’s voice drags his attention elsewhere and he finds his dark gaze lifting to ensure he’s heard him right. “Yes. I can do that.” He murmurs softly, already planning on getting a breakfast that has all of Danta’s favorite things as an additional apology for biting the fuck out of his arm.
And it’s that though that has him draining the cup of tea, forcing himself to not push away from Danta in his self-deprecation and instead leans in to steal a kiss, one that’s adoring as much as it is apologetic. Only then does he manage to slip off the bed, taking some time to get a loose yet comfortable pair of pants on and a shirt haphazardly tugged on – the front open where it would usually button so that he doesn’t have to try and fight his arm getting into it. “I will be right back, darling.” He hums wearily, mentally drained, but realizing he’s going to be staying up for quite some time after this.
"Mm, that's true enough," Danta concedes, settling back gingerly against the headboard to enjoy his tea. "And even if they don't enjoy it, you always seem to get a kick out of me threatening people. So at least someone will be having a good time." Falling into a comfortable silence after that - decisions about breakfast and healers aside - the Maverick lets a comfortable hand rest atop Asta's thigh and enjoys, just for a moment, the fraction of peace that falls over them.
It can't last, of course, not least because the drugs will wear off eventually, and Danta hums around a last sip of his drink before he's lowering his cup for a kiss. Smiling against the butcher's lips, he hates for him to leave, but he does love to watch him go, an appreciative look in his eye to watch Asta dress himself and prowl across the room. "Don't miss me too much," he calls after him, tipping him a wink and pushing back the blankets to get ready to compose his little note for the Temple.
Only when Asta is gone and the door has clicked shut behind them does Danta let out the slow and shuddering sigh that feels as if it's been coiled tightly around his chest. Scrubbing a hand across his face and carefully flexing his fingers, he glances down at the bandages on his arm and the small splotches of red already seeping through them. "Fuck," he whispers, closing his eyes and letting his head tip back to rest against the wall.
Evidently, Asta likely won't be the only one afraid to sleep after this.
~FIN
Dantalion
// with every step that I ran to you //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
