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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!
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
The start of the quest had been… Challenging.
Pair that with the tasks listed out in his head from Vox and the butcher is in quite a mood. And while he feels like he’s dragged Danta around through a lot of it, this one he can unburden him with – choosing Thalassa instead only because she was the only person he could think of that wasn’t his lover that would be just as fiery about everything as Danta was.
So a letter was sent to the captain, short and quick, a quick jaunt into Stormbreak – a space he had been to before that harbored a decent amount of clothing for his preferred fashion, so he tries to use that as an excuse. One that he doesn’t know whether or not Thal would care about – she didn’t seem the type that would indulge him on outings for clothing, at least. Perhaps he’s wrong about that.
Anyway, a request to meet outside the Plaza where they might be able to delve in and find a variety of shops for any of their needs, wants, or desires (should they be able to be found, that is). The butcher stands there, threaded cane glinting in the Flowerbirth gloomy early afternoon, clouds moving overhead and the scent of fresh rain and damp cobblestones. It had only just quit raining, which is why the butcher had chosen to not bring the parasol he’d considered. Instead, he stands on the outside of it, watching the crowds of people flit through the plaza. Dressed impeccably as usual, he’s opted for a dark silk waistcoat with a black undershirt, black pants, and black pointed shoes. Perhaps he’s chosen the attire to match the dark circles under his eyes.
Thal has never been one for shopping. Why buy what can be stolen or pillaged? There were very few instances where she'd 'purchased' anything; however, surprisingly, most had been clothing. It's just hard to find the right size and style without actually buying it, and Thal may not be vain like Asta, but that doesn't mean her casually sexy look came without effort.
Unfamiliar with Stormbreak, Thal is grateful that she spots Asta so quickly. He doesn't look like his usual self, less color or perky attitude as he stands at the edge of the Plaza like a grim reaper. Part of her wonders if she's rubbing off on him, but she gets the feeling that the dark circles under his eyes might be a more likely cause. Nodding in greeting, she doesn't skirt around the topic. "Rough week?" There's a small lilt of teasing in her voice, although he might note the way her fanged grin has mixed elements of sympathy and concern.
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
He was one of the tallest ones amongst the outskirts, and as far as he can tell the only one with horns making him even taller. Though it’s all things he seems to care little about as he scans the crowd, tired and faking his curiosity for whatever big bluster was happening on the doorstep of the corner shop when Thal approaches.
Despite his outward appearance (and the grumpiness therein), the butcher is always happy to see her, to hear the teasing in her voice as he flashes her a smile not fully reminiscent of the carefree version of himself, but a better one than had been the glower sitting there before. “Very much so.” He hums, straightening up as his tail flicks a little more life to his statuesque watch. “Or perhaps I am doing a poor impersonation of my favorite Captain?” He teases her back, nose wrinkling slightly as he aims some humor into their conversation.
As all things do, though, the smile falters somewhat before he picks it back up and leans toward her, his dark gaze scanning back out toward the crowd. “I have seen three pick pockets in the span of twenty minutes. Only one was caught.” Ergo, the bluster at the corner store from earlier. “So perhaps if we do not find anything, it may have been somewhat amusing at the very least?” He suggests, letting his smile curve a bit sharper and brighter, before he turns slightly to pick a random direction, the threaded cane clicking on the ground as he uses it and deftly switches the subjects as they join the crowds. "How was your trip here?"
Happy to be a distraction from his troubles, Thal clings to the humor. Looking closely at his expression, she hums in mock scrutiny. "Oh. Very poor indeed. You need more glowering." Her smile disappears, replaced by a seriously deep scowl that makes her look far more intimidating than her short stature should allow. But just as quickly as it comes, she trades it for her fanged grin again, leaning close to hear what he might say.
Thal chuckles at what Asta apparently finds 'entertaining,' glancing at the commotion of the store entrance. Her smile doesn't dissipate, humming like she's enjoying the view of stupidity in action. "Hmm. Then you need to get your eyes checked, because you missed me snagging the purse from the Dragoon during the scuffle." She holds up the small leather pouch heavy with coin between them before turning to shoot him a playful wink and allowing it to vanish beneath her heavy cloak without a trace.
Twisting easily on one heeled boot, she follows Asta down the street. Her head tilts to consider the question, wavy hair catching on her dark horns. "Boring. Yours?"
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
The smile lines etched into his face are at quite odds with being familiar with the rugged glower they speak of, and they both know it. So the butcher laughs softly, feeling himself warm up to the distraction offered from the Captain and the surrounding plaza and its own shenanigans. It’s a vast difference from the last few days spent in the Climb, at least.
Tilting his dark gaze back toward her to hear her response, his eyes widen a fraction before he lets a truly amused chuckle escape him, grinning that too sharp grin at the captain with amusement. Of course, it’s at the time the clinking bag has disappeared, so any in earshot nearby might assume that she’d just told him a hilarious joke. “Oh, you.” He trills, his accent a touch thicker before he resets himself.
It’s a seamless join into the crowds, the butcher carving a path for himself and the captain at his side. “Mm, about the same.” He laments, before he inclines his horned head toward her. “I was hoping, at least to appease the discomforting voice, that I may be able to find a new waistcoat. And perhaps a gift for Danta for putting up with me.” He snorts, rolling his good shoulder in a slight shrug. “Is there anything you were hoping to find? My treat.” She could keep the treasure she’d found and he gets to enact his love of gift giving.
His laugh, and obvious approval, is met with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders and a cocky smile as she joins him in their stroll down the street. She glances at the clothing shops they pass, disgusted by the gaudy displays of lace and color. None of it is ever something she'd be caught dead in. However, she still considers his offer with a low hum, never one to turn down a gift. "Hmmm. I could use a new blouse. My favorite one was... ruined last time I went to Apopo." The ash had been impossible to remove from the thin black material, not that she'd really minded at the time, her annoyed expression hiding a mischievous smile as she recalls the interaction. However, with the pleasure of the moment long gone, she rather misses the shirt, how it had hugged all the right places and given her enough room to move gracefully through whatever violent situations she found herself in.
Shifting the cloak on her shoulders, she tilts her head to look up at Asta. "What did you have in mind for Danta?" She hadn't the foggiest idea of what you got someone for helping through such a trauma. Maybe a candle?
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
She might be disgusted by the gaudiness of the attire within the shop windows, but Astaroth is nothing but intrigued. Sure, the colors were awful – especially if he considers the Captain’s preferred attire – but he was a sucker for the feel of certain kinds of fabrics, the sounds they made as they brush and rustle against one another. “Did you happen to fall in?” He teases in regards to Apopo, glancing toward her with a raise of his brow as he lets their conversation warm him further away from the cold memories of crows and feathers.
She doesn’t have to answer him, of course, but it’s too much of a lead in for him to resist.
Continuing through the crowd until they’ve reached the other side with a better variety of stores, the butcher’s brows pinch as he considers what to get for Danta. “Mm, well, he’s quite fond of clothing that is hardly what I would even classify as such.” He comments idly, thinking briefly about the strange fishnet sweater his lover has worn on occasion that had far too many holes in it to actually be useful or warm. He supposes it adds to the alluring factor, which might be something Thalassa might have an opinion on.
Glancing over at her sidelong before he holds the door open for her to a shop he’d never gone into – something about it screamed modern from the clothes displayed in the window. And perhaps with a touch from the Silk Houses and Mother Molly’s towards the back. “Perhaps we may be able to find something worthwhile here?” Though for once, the butcher seems lost amongst the aisles of clothes and fabrics.
She looks away with a low chuckle, her tail flicking gracefully behind her with the not-so-subtle sway of her hips. "No. Let's just say that I wasn't wearing it at the time." Her smile is sharp and suggestive, letting Asta fill in the blanks, knowing he won't need her assistance with that. If he really wants to know all the juicy details, she'll be more than happy to relay her experience, but that doesn't seem like a 'stroll through Pacifist Plaza' kind of conversation as much as the dark corners of a brothel.
Recalling the first time she met the Maverick - in his sharky swim trunks - Thal's smile turns towards teasing amusement. "He does seem to have a very particular taste in... 'fashion.'" If that's what it can even be called. She doesn't know what other items he might be inclined towards, but she gets a feeling it won't be hard to tell when she spots something, especially as Asta guides them into an intriguing shop.
Her eyes catch on the peculiar cut of clothing, specifically on their contrasting preference for crop tops and stiff tailored pants. The colors were much more muted than the previous stores; browns, blacks, creams, and deep reds that Thal doesn't feel the immediate need to burn it from her eyes. She nods her head approvingly, running a finger over a dark blue silk slip with a small grin. "I definitely think we can find something here."
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
“Ohho.” The butcher hums with a laugh, absolutely filling in the blanks – enough that he glances toward her sidelong out of curiosity. “I suppose that makes a great deal more sense, then.” He doesn’t pry for names, figuring she’d offer up any details should she feel inclined to – though something about the way Asta’s tone shifts seems to suggest that he’s more than willing to listen to her talk about it if she wants to.
He was a gossip hen at any time of day, honestly. Tea was great whether drinkable or heard.
And at least they can agree with the questionable fashion choices his lover had, even if the thought brings a softer smile to his face, already missing him. But he feels the need to go and get gifts to offer for the massive favor he’s done for him, and at least with him gone the Maverick could try and get some uninterrupted sleep.
This shop seems quite out of the butcher’s element, so he sticks to trailing after Thal to hear her approval and the particular dark blue silk slip. “Will it work for replacing your blouse?” He hums thoughtfully, though as he scans the area, he finds something of note that might work better for Thal than it would Danta, departing from her side to drift further in to pluck the dark fabric from the rack. It’s a nice, curve hugging silk blouse, low cut with a flare of silver embroidery along the shoulders that almost look like cold flames. Holding it up, he twists toward Thal with a brighter smile and a tilt of his head. “Something like this, perhaps?”
Leaving Asta to play with that tantalizing piece of information - and ask more if he wishes - Thal just lets out a pleased "Mhm." Not that an evil thought doesn't enter her mind as she imagines replacing her blouse with the dark slip of silk, her smile sharpening. "It's not quite what I had in mind." Although she has no doubt she'd look great in the whisper of fabric, quite the attractive fantasy, Thal wants something more 'practical' to replace her blouse, and it would be very difficult (or maybe very easy?) to kill a man in such an outfit.
When he points out the black piece on the hanger, she abandons the dress to take it delicately from his hands. "But this might be a little more appropriate. I'll have to try it on to know for sure." Flashing him a playful wink, she makes her way towards the back, where she assumes a changing room will be. On her way, her shoulder brushes a strange piece of tight brown fabric that she has to pull out to get a better look at. It's a cropped turtleneck tank top that's so tight, she wonders if it might be shear when worn, but that's not the most interesting part; a large diamond-shaped cutout stretches across the front of the chest, as impractical a piece of clothing as she's seen (outside of dresses). Chuckling, she raises it for Asta to see, a wicked glint in her blue eyes. "Thoughts?"
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
Nodding to hear that she hadn’t imagined it, the butcher’s already distracted by the next set of clothing, focusing on plucking it from the rack before anyone else within the shop decides to snipe it from his clutches. Handing it to her with ease, the butcher’s attention focuses on her face, trying to gauge her reaction, before he nods in agreement. “Of course, darling.” Astaroth had sat through many a tailoring appointment. Trying on before buying was vital, in his opinion, so as she departs to go, he continues his search for something off the wall that might suit his lover the best.
Hearing her, though, the butcher’s attention flits immediately toward Thalassa with curiosity and a smile, only to abandon his own search this time for what she’s plucked from the rack. “Oh, that is quite on par.” The butcher says with a soft chuckle. “Perhaps not the color.. but if there are others like that here I am sure we will find something suitable.” He murmurs, letting his grin brighten, already spotting a variety of turtleneck tanktops just like the one she'd found but with differing colors and cut out shapes.
Replacing the 'shirt' back on the rack, she gets the feeling that she understands Danta's style better than she thought. Thal smiles as she sees where the other colors sit on the rack nearby. Maybe he'll choose the blood red one? Or the forest green? Whatever he decides, she gives an understanding nod of her head as she steps away. "Perfect. I'll leave you to it."
She spins on her heel to find the fitting room, pleasantly surprised that she doesn't have to look far. It doesn't take her long to strip out of the drab black linen shirt she'd been wearing tucked into her tight black pants. Her arms slip easily into the smooth silk fabric of the blouse, enjoying the way it flutters loosely around her shoulders and elbows while buttons tightly around her wrists, making for freedom of movement. The cleavage is the perfect depth of sexy and functional, hugging her curves deliciously and simultaneously forcing the eyes to pick between the flash of skin and the subtle detail of embroidery. It screams 'gorgeous but deadly' in a way that makes her smile, like 'at least buy me dinner before I kill you.' She can't deny that Asta has a skill for picking clothes. If only to prove as much, she exits the changing room to find the man in the racks, an expectant raise of her eyebrow as she leans against the wall next to him, waiting expectantly for his positive verdict.
and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
“Thank you, darling.” He hums softly, contently, watching her step away toward the fitting rooms before he’s looking through the racks again. He spots the blood red one immediately, drawn to it as he plucks it from the rack. The cut out in the chest is like a starburst, sharp edges embroidered to keep from fraying but with little amounts of structure to where it doesn’t seem stiff. Still a turtleneck and still sleeveless, though, the butcher’s tail flits with delight at the result.
So much so, that he scans for anything else of note – snagging a dark grey one with rectangles cut out at random intervals as well, draping it over his arm before he turns and spots Thalassa leaning against the wall beside him. His dark gaze takes her in and how it hugs her curves and accentuates her body but in a way that screams femme fatale. “Ah! It’s beautiful, Thal.” Comes the immediately syrupy praise, his grin brighter than it had been all day so far.
“What do you think? You cut quite a vicious and stunning figure.” Ignoring the picks he’d snagged in favor for grinning at her, his dark gaze flits back up to her face with a surprising amount of excitement. It’s quite clear that retail therapy does wonders for the butcher.
Pleased to hear his praise (and the bright smile on his face), her fanged grin sharpens. Thal knows she looks good, but a girl still loves to hear it, and she won't deny enjoying a compliment. Laughing lightly at his question, she winks playfully. "I think I might need two." In case the next one ends up like the first. After all, she has been feeling very adventurous lately.
Glancing at his selection with her own approval, she nods her head as she pushes off from the wall. "Did you decide which ones?" She's not surprised to see the dark red one in his hands, although if he wants to get more, she would be more than happy to enable him in his shopping since it's obviously helping his mood. Otherwise... her smile widens. "If so, I think we still have to find something for you. What did you have in mind?" If she recalls correctly, he'd mentioned a 'waistcoat,' although she has no experience shopping for such things.
