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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!
He feared her judgement? She had just killed a buck and torn out its guts with her face. Were she to shift back into her human form there would still be blood between her teeth, clinging to her skin like blood on the snow. What kind of sane individual did that? If anything, she should be the one with her eyes on the ground, too ashamed to face him. And perhaps she really was hiding, in a way, because there was a resistence in her against shifting back. Then she would have to talk, to try and soothe whatever plight that haunted her friend to this extent.Maea wasn't sure she had the words for that. But at least, if he still felt wobbly despite being up on his feet, she could offer him more to lean on than that tree.
Her form rippled gently, thinning in girth and growing ever so slightly taller at the whithers. When the feirwe sighed it was a rush of cool air in the stifling heat left by the tiger, and on graceful legs she inched a little bit closer to the man. Her head lowered, cautious as she nuzzled his hand with a velvety nose; her antlers weren't over large, but the blueish flames could still burn him.
She did not want that. All she wished was that he would look at her, just the one time, and maybe allow her to slip beneath his arm. She may be small and frail seeming, but if he allowed himself to put some weight on her shoulder, the dragoon might find that the doe was tough, quite capable of supporting his weight. Strong enough, she thought, to share his burdens, for all that she couldn't lift them off him completely.
If Maea shifted back, would Liam have the words to explain what had brought him so low? Perhaps his shame was in the fact that he was still haunted, all these years later, in ways that he couldn’t even begin to describe. He was not so heartless as to believe that he should be fully recovered, living as though his family had never existed, but he did rather think that this kind of reaction to the nightmares that sometimes plagued him might, in retrospect, be a little much.
It didn’t happen often, it was true, so perhaps that was why it affected him so when it did. He’d do just about anything to sear the memories of their lifeless faces from his brain. Including, it seemed, making terrible choices and then having to bear the consequences.
Any doubt in the back of his mind that this was Maea disappeared the moment she turned into the feirwe. It was his favorite of her shifts, and somehow that made things worse. In this form, Maea seemed so… innocent? He wasn’t sure if that was right, given that he’d just watched her rip out an elk’s innards, but it was the only word that came to mind. And just now, he felt anything but.
Still, as she nudged gently at him, he swallowed hard, raising his gaze to look at her. He could practically feel the concern that radiated off of her, or so he imagined, and he was struck by the realization that he didn’t deserve her. Here he was, an absolute mess, and yet she cared enough to stay by his side. To offer her shoulder to lean on. In silence, he slipped an arm over her withers, releasing his hold on the tree in favor of her. She was warm against his side, comforting in a way that he had not expected, and for a moment, he dared to hope that she wouldn’t be too angry with him.
For a time they simply stood there. A wind picked up in the high trees and the scent of sweetgrass intensified as the sun rose higher, warming the air. The faint haze of mist evaporated and a chorus of birds took up the hum of the Stonesong, singing their warsongs in counterpoint.
As the forest came back alive around them, Maea nosed gently a knee resting next to her own, teasing its owner ever so slightly by nibbling on the fabric of his trousers. Shifting her own weight forward, she took a single step, then stilled once more. Time passed. Her breathing steadied under Liam's arm, her heart steady in its subtle beat. When she shifted again the next time, it was in the direction of the river, where light played merrily on the surface of waves and birds dove to catch insects buzzing just above the surface.
If she was angry, it didn't show. In those dewy lavender eyes there was only patience. Maea was in no hurry to go anywhere. If she had any desires at all in this moment it seemed to be to enter out into the light again, to escape even the cool shade beneath the trees - and she guided him along, a will-o-wisp in her serene support; it was going to be alright. Whatever tormented him, surely it would feel less fearsome by the water's edge.
The forest came alive around them as they stood there, long enough for the remnants of mist to blow off and the Stone Symphony to begin playing its daily rhythm. Birds chattered overhead, seemingly unbothered by the white feirwe and the broken man, or the elk carcass still steaming in the sun.
Maea took the first step and Liam followed, doing his best to keep upright but probably leaning on her more than he cared to admit. It took time, as the sun made its trek through the sky, but eventually they reached the water’s edge, where Liam sank gratefully to his knees, releasing his hold on the feirwe. His reflection in the water stared back at him: eyes red, dark circles beneath, golden curls ruffled by the breeze. He reached out a hand, scooping some of the water up for a drink. It was cold, and strangely refreshing, washing away the remnants of alcohol coating his tongue. The next handful splashed upon his face and through his hair, until when he looked back at the water, he’d started to resemble himself once more.
Slowly, so slowly, Liam began to come back into his body, and what he found horrified him. He found that no matter how much he might want to, he couldn’t look at Maea, who had been so kind and so patient and so willing to help him through a dark hour. She deserved better from him than this: this shell of a man who she’d only recently suggested could be a leader. Could do something useful. What a ridiculous notion it seemed now, in the bright light of day where he’d managed to embarrass himself so thoroughly.
He wished she’d shift back. That she’d yell or curse or something, anything other than watching him with those patient, understanding eyes that seemed to see into his very soul. Maybe then he’d get what he deserved.
Straightening up only to shake herself as the man eased away from her shoulders only to sink back on his knees, she allowed him a moment to collect himself. Lowering her nose to drink deeply of the cold water, her stumpy tail twitched absently to stave off a fly. The stench of death juxtaposed against the freshness of the morning. In her heightened awareness of all that moved around her, Maea found the carcass appalling with its obscene starkness, yet even in the shape of an animal so similar to the elk, she couldn't find a trace of revulsion or even fear. It only went to show, she was a wolf in sheep's clothing even now, and all suggestion of innocence or fragility was naught but illusion.
It was there in the all-too intelligent look the doe cast upon the kneeling man. His silence annoyed her, because it was one she knew all too well. If he wasn't spiraling into some dark and gloomy corner of his mind, then she was a baboon and he could yell at her all he wanted for what she was about to do next.
Without making much of a fuss about herself, she traipsed away from the water, as though to walk around his back to reach a patch of dew-laden grass on Liam's other side. But as she came behind him, there was a tense twitch of her tail, a toss of the antlered head - and without warning she reared a smidge, put the forelegs against his back and shoved him forward, into the cold, refreshing, hopefully re-invigorating water.
Whatever Liam had expected of her, it was not for Maea to shove him into the river. The surprise, when it came, was cold and striking, and as he sprawled into the shallows, he has a wild moment where he thought he might laugh; but by the time he righted himself, spluttering incoherently at the feirwe, the thought had vanished.
He wasn’t angry. On the contrary, the water felt nice on his flushed skin, and he’d been in need of a shower to rid him of the stench of whiskey. No, he was simply bemused that Maea would choose such a strange time to be playful. Of course, it had the intended effect; he was no longer drowning in the sorrow of his own mind, pulled back into the present by her actions. But even if he wasn’t spiraling, he was a far cry from the man she’d come to know, and that would still be clear in his eyes.
Sitting there in the shallows, Liam braced his arms on his raised knees and looked at the feirwe, all innocent and beautiful in the sunlight. ”I’d invite you in,” he said wryly, ”But it’s probably still too cold for you.”
Did feirwe laugh? For a moment it seemed that way. The way she tossed her head and bucked down the beach was nothing if not mischievous. Circling back again to see the effects of her prank, it pleased her to see a bit more spark in the man's eyes, and if he wasn't exactly cheerful, at least he was neither yelling at her or trying to drown himself in the river. She would call that progress.
Finely chiseled ears twitched as he finally spoke up, turning his way to catch each word. Approaching to test that claim, she stepped cautiously into the water, one front leg at a time. It bit like pike teeth at her pale skin; recoiling, she paced anxiously back and forth along the water's edge for a moment. Then, throwing caution to the wind, Maea entered the water anyway. Despite shuddering visibly, she folded her legs beneath her and settled in the shallows next to Liam, curving herself around him - to keep him or herself warm was anyone's guess. Maybe both. A soft nose reached in through the fortress he had closed himself into, blowing a gentle breath against his cheek.
She wouldn't do anything to him she couldn't do to herself. Maea knew she was clumsy with these things; cheering people up was hard when she hardly knew what brightened her own mood. Sometimes she just wanted to be left alone. Other times, what she needed was to be picked up by the arm and shaken a bit. Or to be tossed in a river to snap out of whatever despair she had placed herself in. And though she couldn't stay like this for long, she was willing to sit in silence with him, to listen to the river until the darkness passed - or listen to him, if he wanted to lay bare his troubles without comments or judgement or anything to interfere.
Maea was just full of surprises today. Liam watched as she tested the water, amused in spite of himself. Then she seemed to steel herself before wading in. He might have protested, but she lowered herself into the water behind him before he got the chance, cradling his form with hers. He leaned against her, comforted by her warm presence at his back. He truly, deeply did not deserve her, this woman who would risk her own discomfort just to make him feel better.
The half-smile on his face fell as he considered the developments of the day with a brain that was still fuzzy, though more so now from lack of sleep than abundance of drink. He leaned his head back to look at the sky. If nothing else, he owed her an explanation. Let her hear how weak he was, and then decide if she still wanted anything to do with him.
”I was the one who found their bodies,” he said after a few moments. He didn’t have to specify who. There were only three people who would elicit this kind of reaction. ”Most of the time, I can… block it out. But sometimes…” He sighed. ”It was the worst it’s been in a while this morning.”
Her ears proved that she was listening, their light twitches separating the murmur of the water from his confessions. It was cold. The places where Liam leaned against her were the only parts of her body that didn't feel the chill creep in. Stiffening joints. Tightening muscle. It wasn't yet to the point where she would start to petrify, but given enough time it would happen. Maea told herself that Liam wouldn't be able to stay in the cold water for very long either. Whomever moved first would release the other - it would be fine.
In times like these, though, she lamented the lack of attuned bond, or telepathic ability. She couldn't answer him with less than a shift of form, so there was no way to convey how much she understood. She had come home to a house showing all the signs of a struggle, and so much blood. Dead sheep, dead dogs, a house splattered in crimson - no bodies, though. Maea never had to lift her family out of the rubble, or see their ruined forms lowered into graves, or burn on pyres. Her nightmares were bad enough without seeing their lifeless faces - no wonder he'd sought refuge in the bottle!
Far from scaring her off or causing her to think less of him, it only raised her opinion of this man, that he could even stand to get out of bed in the morning. Stronger men had broken for far less, she thought, respecting Liam all the more for remaining as kind and generous as he was. So what if that wasn't every day?
Maea turned her chiseled head around so she could see him, meet his gaze for just a moment. She couldn't tell him all that passed through her mind of empathy or understanding, but she did rest her narrow chin against his arm, a warm touch of support that wasn't going anywhere.
The water was cold, and the juxtaposition of the chill of the river against the warmth of Maea’s flank was perhaps the thing that shook Liam from his gloom. As the feirwe pressed her muzzle gently against his arm, Liam met her lavender eyes squarely for the first time since he’d fallen. Something in the depths of her eyes told him that she understood. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse - he would never wish this pain on his worst enemy, much less on his dearest friend.
After a few more moments of silent wallowing, the soldier seemed to gather himself. ”Let’s get out of this water, at least,” he suggested, his voice rougher than normal as he fought off a shiver. Gods, Maea must be freezing. He was immediately guilty for putting her in this position in the first place. Not only had he interrupted her hunt, but he’d put her in danger - all because he couldn’t get his shit together.
He clambered to his feet, shaking water out of his hair as he made his way back to shore. Once there, he waited for Maea to join him. ”I’m sorry,” he told her softly, remorse lacing his features.
Sorry for what? Being human? If that was a crime they were all guilty. One day they could sit down and compare their evils, and determine who was least deserving of the two. But as he was very correct about Maea freezing in even the shallow water, she would save those sentiments for later. Allowing him to move away before she rose, she made a move to unfurl her legs. They obeyed only reluctantly, leaving her staggering and stiff as if on stilts as she shuffled into shore. All the grace and elegance was gone from her lithe frame, and despite the warming sunlight she shivered uncontrollably.
If she could, she would have smiled at Liam to assure him that this was a choice she was happy to make if it meant he felt even a little bit better. And if he wanted to make it up to her, he could let her snuggle back in under his arm again, as she was attempting to do; just until her coat dried. Though, since they were both soaked and chilled, it might not work as well as she'd hoped.
Liam, it seemed, was the considerably less cold of the two. He was not shaking uncontrollably now that he was in the sun, but if Maea’s jerky movements were any indication, she was far from warm. He wondered, briefly, if her molten tiger shift, with the heat that it gave off, would be a better fit for this particular moment, if it would warm her up any faster.
But then she was tucking herself under his arm, and in the hazy sort of not-quite-drunk-but-not-quite-sober stupor he was in, he forgot to ask. Instead, he draped his arm over her withers, idly stroking her opposite shoulder with his thumb - a motion so simple that he didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it. They sat for a while in the quiet, warming beneath the bright Flowerbirth sun. It was peaceful, he realized. His guilt and shame had slowly leeched away with the water, leaving only a shade of embarrassment and a healthy measure of gratitude behind.
After a while, he looked at Maea, searching for her eyes. ”Are you alright?” he rumbled quietly, concern in the crease of his brow. ”Warming up okay?”
Despite a strong desire to assure him that she was fine, Maea was beginning to realize that it wasn't strictly true. While the sunlight and the body tucked against her side helped, the shivers did not subside the way they should have. Waging a battle between the urge to keep herself locked away in her shift to spare them both awkwardness, and a growing need to warm herself properly, it was the concern in his eyes that tipped the scale in favor of shifting. Stubbornness on her part would not make him feel better. Hurting herself would not help him, either.
Perhaps belatedly, the feirwe shimmered, and the mass beneath his arm shrank into the shape of a petite woman. Black velvet spilled out around her legs, drenched from the hem to halfway up the waist, and half-dried blood clung to her face - crusting in the corners of her mouth, halted in runnels down the pale skin of her neck. Not her blood, of course; just that of the buck, ignored for the duration that she had spent with Liam. Still shivering, her skin was cold, hands feeling like so many icicles; it was hard to close them properly, and upon closer inspection she noticed that the fingertips had hardened into what looked like marble, or perhaps some other mineral.
"... n-not really," she got out through chattering teeth. "C-can we make a f-fire?" A big one, with lots of fuel - at this point, she wasn't sure even the tigress would be warm enough for the stripes to melt like they usually did.
Maea’s form shimmered beneath his arm, and in the span of a few heartbeats she stood tucked against his side as an Ancient once more. Blood - the elk’s - had crusted on her face. It should have been a terrifying sight, and yet all Liam could see was his friend, shivering in the sun, paleness accentuated by the brightness of the blood. His brows snapped together and he pulled her closer without care for the smudges of red that would no doubt stain his shirt.
”Of course, a fire -“ he said, loosening his grip. ”Will you be okay for a minute while I get some wood? Here, stay out of the shade -“ Positioning her directly in the sun’s light, Liam rushed into the shadowed forest behind them, gathering as much wood as he could carry. He hurried back Maea’s side and dumped it into a pile. He looked around for anything he could use to start the fire; he hadn’t brought anything with him. He looked at Maea again, distressed. ”I don’t suppose you have flint on you?” If he had to carry her all the way back to the village, he would, but he suspected that sooner would be better than later to get her warmed up.
