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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!
Flora’s grin brightens immediately, the previous flicker of uncertainty melting away as Niki gestures for her to join him. Her aqua eyes sparkle as she turns back toward the Mathair; raising her hands in an exaggerated gesture of supplication, she beams up at the ancient tree. "Pretty please, could you take us to Niki’s place? He’s had a rough few days, and I think we’d all appreciate skipping the scenic route for once." Even if the tree wasn't inclined to listen, it was worth a try.
Slipping easily to Niki’s side, Flora matches his pace, adjusting her stride to ensure she doesn’t outpace him. "You know," she begins, casting a sideways glance at him, "—having lived in both the Greatwood and Torchline, I think I’m in a pretty solid position to judge which is better." Her tone is light, teasing, as if it’s a playful debate she’s already decided the winner of, even if she knows that pointing out Torchline's perks likely won't sway the necromancer's mind in the least.
Her voice softens slightly as they walk, her gaze flicking briefly toward him. "Anyway, you’ve got the queen of Torchline here as your personal tour guide if you ever change your mind. No pressure, though." And, despite her rather boisterous encouragement thus far, she did mean it.
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Blinking in confusion as Flora turns back, once again, to the great mother tree, Niki has to stifle his laughter - both for his own good but also so he doesn't risk offending the Mathair - until she makes her way back to his side, the boy nodding gently. "That is as much good luck as any we might get," he decides, pausing only briefly to readjust the grip on his cane before he's setting off again. It's slow going, but that's par for the course with him, and moving rather than standing in the cold is always going to be preferable.
Raising his eyebrows as she appoints herself the presiding judge over the Greatwood and Torchline, he can only gesture to the world around them - beautiful and magical, if not freezing cold and deadly if caught unawares. "I suppose it depends on what you consider better," he quips. Everyone he's met (Vesper) has only ever sung Torchline's praises, which is perhaps why Niki still feels a healthy dose of suspicion about it.
But then of course - of course - Flora is the queen of the place, Niki gazing at her in open shock and near disbelief. "I just want to make certain I have this correct," he says slowly. "You died and were brought back to life by your demigod parents, you met the Mathair in person, and you are the queen of a region. Have I missed anything?"
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
"I guess so." Flora agrees with a small shrug. "Maybe one day you'll just see it for yourself." She decides, taking her cues from his tone and unwavering walls that she wasn't going to win Niki over in just one conversation.
"You make it sound so dramatic," she teases not minding at all, brushing a stray curl from her face as they continue down the snowy trail. "Though, when you put it like that, I guess it does sound like a lot." She lets the moment linger for a beat, the corners of her lips twitching upward in a grin. Her gaze flicks back toward the forest ahead, her voice softening slightly. "Let’s see… I think you’ve got most of the highlights." She pauses as if to consider. "Both sets of my parent are demigods, actually, and I have a twin brother who died during the war with the Voice." Niki's sharp ears might just pick out the way Flora still spoke of Enzo as if he were somehow still with her, despite clearly being dead.
Her expression dims for a fleeting moment before she brightens again, nudging Niki ever so gently with her shoulder. "Anyway, your turn."
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"If I do decide to do that, does that mean I will also be able to judge what is better between them?" Niki wonders, his voice suffused with a quiet playfulness. As Flora is undoubtedly realising, whether it's travelling to Torchline or agreeing to take on a project, the boy is affronted not so much by what a task might be, but rather the assumption that he will be strong-armed into doing it. (Not so surprising, given that there is so much he doesn't have a choice in - his own physical limitations and frail health at the forefront).
Huffing a soft laugh into the folds of his scarf in the hope it will fend off another coughing fit, he gives her a gentle shake of his head. "I suppose it is not so dramatic for you if you have lived it your entire life," he agrees, though that doesn't make it any less incredible to those peasants looking at Flora's situation from the outside. Nevertheless, he does raise his eyebrows at the two sets of demigod parents, only for the expression to soften to hear of her brother's death, whatever tense she might be speaking in. "I am sorry to hear that," he says softly.
As for himself, the boy can only offer a wrinkle of his nose and a self-deprecating shrug as they walk. "Nothing quite so exciting. I was raised in an orphanage in the Greatwood, back before things were so..." He gestures around them to indicate so closed off. "I do not remember much of my parents. I think they were kind, but perhaps naive as to the war with the Voice. I grew up in a group home until I was old enough to apprentice out. I worked for an undertaker for a time, but he passed away before I could complete my apprenticeship."
Gesturing ahead towards what will hopefully show his route home soon, he offers Flora a small, wry smile. "I still live at the mortuary, but please do not be alarmed - it is no longer a functioning building in that way."
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
01-27-2025, 08:16 PM (This post was last modified: 01-27-2025, 08:17 PM by Flora.)
Flora
Flora laughs lightly, her aqua eyes sparkling as she softly nudges Niki again with her shoulder, not wanting to upset his balance. "Absolutely, it’ll be up to you to judge. Just don’t forget who gave you the invite in the first place when Torchline wins," she teases, though the warmth in her tone is genuine. His quiet resistance to being persuaded only makes her grin widen; she likes the way he stands his ground, even if she’s mostly playing with him.
At his apology, Flora shrugs, the motion casual but her voice carrying a subtle weight. "Thanks. It’s... complicated, I guess. Enzo was—" She pauses, the words catching briefly in her throat before she pushes on, a touch softer now. "He's everything to me. I'm going to find a way to bring him back." The confession lingers in the cold air for a moment before she glances at Niki, wondering if he'd think her stupidly naive or else wildly entitled in thinking she'd be capable of doing such a thing.
His story catches her off guard, and she tilts her head, curiosity flickering across her features. "You know, I’m surprised I didn’t run into you when we were kids," Flora says, her brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Then again, Enzo and I spent a lot of time hiding out in my nonna’s cottage. Long story, but let’s just say back then one of my dads wasn’t exactly thrilled that the other one got my mom pregnant." The words are accompanied by a wry smile.
Her expression brightens again as she turns her attention back to him. "An undertaker, though? That’s not what I expected. What made you choose that? Or was it more of a 'this is what's available' kind of thing?" Her gaze sharpens, though not unkindly, as if she’s genuinely invested in understanding this quiet boy with the sharp mind and soft voice.
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"No guarantees. I have proven more than once today how my memory can fail me, and I do not wish to continue to make a fool of myself," Niki says with dry amusement, even if he can almost definitely put that down to his fever. He sways a little at her gentle nudging, though he's able to catch himself easily enough, settling into an easy rhythm to walk with the Doubletake despite the way he feels simultaneously too hot and too cold.
At her confession, though, he can't help but raise his eyebrows in open surprise, and it's admiration written there rather than judgement. "Well, Flora," he says, his accent hugging her name, "if anyone would be capable of such a thing, I believe it would be you. I look forward, one day, to meeting your brother in the flesh." Sounding quietly certain about that - as perhaps only a follower of Mort might be able - he glances back to the path.
"I was not much of an outdoorsy child," he says with a quiet grin; no shit, Niki. "So even if you had been close to the village, I am not sure we would have had much cause to run into each other. Ah - here we are." Gesturing ahead, it appears Flora's prayer to the Mathair has led them true, and in the distance a solitary lamp can be seen burning on the porch to a surprisingly large, dark building, one side of it covered in moss and a tangle of ivy.
"I did not choose it," he adds, of his career path, "but rather it was chosen for me. The undertaker assured the home that he did not need an apprentice who would have to do much physical labour, and I would not have gotten many other opportunities like that." If any.
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
Flora tilts her head slightly, her grin softening into something quieter, more thoughtful as she watches Niki sway before catching himself. "Noted," she teases, though there’s an underlying warmth to her voice, as if promising that she’d remind him anyway—just in case. His dry humour is endearing, and despite the chill of the Deepfrost air, Flora finds herself settling comfortably into their pace, adjusting her stride to match his without a second thought.
She hadn't expected the open admiration in his gaze when she spoke of Enzo, and the certainty in his voice catches her off guard, her breath hitching for just a moment. So many people had dismissed her goal outright, but Niki didn't. He just... accepted it. Believed it. The weight of that understanding sits warmly in her chest, and for once, she doesn’t brush past it with a joke as she's normally wont to do with those she doesn't know well. "Well," she murmurs, a small grin curving her lips, "You might be able to meet him in the flesh sooner than that. My dad usually brings him back once a year for me to see."
The sight of his home pulls her attention, and she slows slightly as she takes it in. The moss-covered side, the ivy twisting up its frame, the single lamp burning on the porch—it’s not what she’d expected, but in some ways, it makes perfect sense given what she's come to know of the necromancer. As they approach, she hums thoughtfully, considering his words about his apprenticeship. "Ahh, that makes sense," she admits. "Did you end up liking it? Or...is that how you got into making jewelry and stuff?"
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"Ah? Is this the same father who brought you back from Mort's realm?" Niki asks, naturally curious about such things and feeling much more open about asking than he had in their first meeting. "That must be comforting, though. Knowing that whatever happens, you are able to see him at least once per year." Not that he imagines it is enough, not for someone to lose their twin, but it is better than nothing, he assumes.
Not having to look over his home in quite the same way - he sees it all the time, after all - Niki settles into an easier pace on the path, as if his feet have memories the twists and bumps along the trail leading to the steps up to his porch. "I did not dislike it," he says slowly, his brows knotting together in a frown, as if no one has ever asked him such a thing. "Though I was not sad to see the old undertaker pass on, put it that way."
As for his jewellery making, he shrugs his shoulders a little, reaching into a deep pocket for his keys. "Yes and no?" he says. "I am a metalworker in general, but jewellery and other trinkets keep food on the table. That part is a craft rather than a passion." The passion is left in his workshop towards the back of the house, but he doubts Flora will be interested in that.
Stepping into the entranceway and holding open the door for the Doubletake, she'll be greeted by the faint scent of peppermint and tea tree, and some tastefully out of date decor. "If you would like to sit through there, I can get my equipment and see about the bracelet you wanted." He gestures to the living room.
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
Flora nods, confirming easily, "Yeah, same dad. Remi." Her lips quirk into a small smile, the warmth of it tempered by something more complicated that she couldn't really give a name to. "And yeah, it helps. It's more than most people get, y’know?" Her aqua eyes flick toward him, as if weighing whether or not to add something before she does. "They bring my baby sister back once a year too. And usually the third slot is for my nonna." Flora explains, but her grin turns wry. "Honestly, it’s probably why he had to bring me back—he didn’t have enough visitation slots for all of us if I stayed dead."
Following Niki up the steps, Flora lets the silence settle for a moment, rolling his words over in her mind. There’s something almost delicate in the way he'd phrased it—that he hadn’t been sad to see the old undertaker go—that makes her want to curl herself around him and learn all there is that makes him tick. Instead, she merely nods politely. "So… metalwork is the real passion, then? Or..." She frowns. "What do you make, when it’s not just to keep food on the table?" Because she knew the difference; knew what it was to do something because you had to, and to do something because it set something alight inside of you.
Stepping through the door as he holds it open, Flora glances around, her gaze catching on the decor that seemed slightly out of time (but then, this was the Greatwood). The scent of peppermint and tea tree fills the space, cleaner and more inviting than she might have expected, given the whole "former mortuary" situation. "Nice place," she says with a grin before heading toward the living room and flopping down comfortably onto the couch.
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"The one who used to run the Greatwood, yes? They called him... the Lullaby? I think it is something different now." Stories of the demigods have flooded the woods thick and fast since the void had been banished, but Niki isn't as up to date on the latest monikers for the gods' chosen as he might be. "Three times a year is quite the boon. And I imagine he brought you back because he is your daughter and he loves you, but the visitation limits might also cause a problem."
Already turning towards the long corridor and the other part of the house, Niki glances over his shoulder and offers Flora a quiet, wry smile. "Something like that, yes," he says. "I like to understand how things work, and to improve them if I can." He taps his leg brace gently with the end of his cane as if to demonstrate. "My interests can wander. And thank you - the ghosts keep it clean."
With that very dry joke left standing between them, Niki gets on his way, leaving Flora to the comfortable couch, the fireplace still dancing with a dying flame, the bookshelves and the small dining table. Cool light from the snowbanks outside filters in through the window, illuminating a long, teal feather propped in a tall vase on the table.
The necromancer isn't gone for long, though when he returns he has shrugged out of his coat, scarf and gloves, left in a dark green sweater that seems to hang from his gaunt frame, a carry case in his free hand. "Would you like me to build the fire any higher?" he asks, heading straight for the table.
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
Flora hums in confirmation, tilting her head as she stretches out a little on the couch, one arm draping lazily over the back. "Yeah, Ludo used to call him the Lullaby, but I guess at some point decided he was boring, so now he’s Mort’s and goes by the Bastion instead." It's all a touch boredly said, as if the idea of gods just swapping around their chosen ones like pieces on a board was only mildly interesting at this point.
She laughs outright at Niki’s quiet remark about visitation limits, shaking her head. Her grin sharpens as he mentions the need to understand and improve. "Kinda sounds like The Voice, actually." There’s no edge or accusation behind her smile. Though the war had taken Enzo from her, Flora couldn't blame the goddess for the things people did in her name. At least, not without knowing a good deal more about the nitty-gritty of it all than she actually did.
Her gaze flickers back around the room, still cataloging the little details, before she huffs a soft laugh. "Ghosts, huh? Convenient." Turning, Flora ruffles her fingers through her curls before finally starting to shift out of her coat. "You know, I sorta thought you might have been a ghost when I first met you."
She doesn’t snoop while he’s gone—something of a rarity for her, really—but when he returns, she lifts a brow as she takes in the way the sweater drapes loosely over his frame, the contrast between the warm dark green and his pale skin. If he wasn’t so sickly looking, she might call it effortlessly elegant, in a kind of quiet, bookish way.
At his offer, Flora shakes her head, stretching her legs out comfortably. "Nah, if either of us get cold, I’ll just toss a few more logs on."
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"The Bastion, that is right," Niki comments almost under his breath with a nod, as if determining to file that bit of information away. If ever he had the chance to meet Remi Taliesin, undoubtedly he'd be much more reverent, but whether it's in an effort not to obviously fangirl over Flora's father or because there's a lot more to concentrate on for the time being, he lets that string of conversation go easily enough.
"Does it?" he asks, of his hobbies and the way his mind works. "Perhaps that is how she started - tinkering at the back of some funeral parlour. Watch this space, Flora, there are future gods at work." Raising his eyebrows, the amusement in his expression is barely there, but it's enough, and he sets the case down onto the table and eases himself into a seat there. "And I can understand your thinking I was some kind of ghost. I imagine there are not many people who get trapped along a riverbank as I did."
Hooking his cane on the back of his chair in a gesture smooth enough to suggest he's done it hundreds of times, Niki opens the case and begins taking out pieces of equipment and various materials. "May I see that mageglass again, please?" he asks.
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
Flora snickers, tilting her head to the side as she considers him with playful scrutiny. "Alright, but promise me that if you do become a god, you’ll at least give me the chance to get on your good side before you smite me or start any wars." Her grin is bright and easy as she shrugs her shoulders bouncily at him. "Just saying, it's only fair since I was nice enough to help you up that riverbank before you ascended to godhood."
She leans back onto the couch, crossing her arms with a thoughtful hum. "And yeah, you really had me convinced for a second," she admits, shooting him an amused glance. "I mean, I’d only just come back from the dead myself—seeing ghosts felt like something that might have just been a lingering side-effect."
Pushing herself up, Flora slips across the room, pulling the piece of mageglass from her pocket as she approaches the table. She sets it down in front of him, though she lingers rather than stepping away entirely. It’s in her nature to hover—to watch—but she figures he might want space to work, so she shifts to lean against the edge of the table instead, giving him room while still keeping an eye on the process.
"Do you usually work alone?" she asks, her voice lighter now, more idly curious than anything else. "Or am I about to be a very annoying distraction?"
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
"That seems fair," Niki agrees, nodding and continuing to take out his equipment. "If I do ascend to godhood, though, I would like it to be known that I get the final say on whether Torchline or the Greatwood is the better region." That also only seems fair, in his humble opinion. Once he's content with the tools and initial materials he's produced - pieces of silver and gold, along with some strips of fine leather he'd found in his workshop - he produces a pair of delicately wired spectacles and slips them on.
"Do not speak too soon, Flora," he says, quietly amused, even if his response is aimed down at a pair of fine-toothed pliers, "you have never seen me interact with anybody but you, have you? I may yet be a ghost." Glancing up as he senses her approach, he smiles and accepts the mageglass necklace with a murmur of thanks, immediately getting to work on freeing it from the necklace chain.
"I usually do most things alone," he says with all the honesty of someone who has never attached emotion to the idea of loneliness. "But this is practical work rather than anything theoretical, so I trust my hands to do their job while my mind holds a conversation." Offering her a brief smile over his glasses, his blue eyes are still quite clearly feverish, but he has no intention of paying illness any mind until this new task is done.
stay your pretty eyes on course keep the memories of who i was before
