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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!
honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time
The dome of the Court of the Stars shimmers with the pale glow of early evening, moonlight filtering faintly through the glass above and casting soft reflections in the pool beneath Safrin’s statue. Night-blooming jasmine coils delicately around white columns, its scent subtle but persistent as the sea breeze slips through the open wall and whispers across the marble.
Flora stands near the fountain with Hadama, her posture poised but taut, golden bangles glinting at her wrists with every subtle shift. Her curls are twisted into a sleek braid draped over one shoulder, her gown a deep navy to match the hour, speckled with tiny mirrored stars that catch the light as she moves. She looks like a vision—regal, composed—but anyone close enough to see the stiffness in her jaw or the tension in her shoulders would know how much effort it takes to wear the mask tonight.
"Almost everyone’s here," she murmurs to Hadama, aqua eyes sweeping the gathering crowd as Torchliners filter into the courtyard: sailors still smelling of salt and sun, bakers in flour-dusted aprons, smiths with soot-streaked arms, merchants with polished boots. All of them summoned to have a voice in a decision that could shape the future of their home.
Once the last murmurs settle and the crowd hushes with anticipation, Flora steps forward. Her voice, when it comes, is clear and steady.
"Thank you all for coming tonight." She lets her gaze drift over the gathered faces, grounding herself in their presence. "I won’t waste time. Torchline’s been lucky so far. The Family hasn’t made a real move on us—yet—but that luck won’t last. You’ve heard the stories, maybe even seen what they’ve done elsewhere. What they are."
She glances at Hadama briefly before continuing. "Thanks to some…creative risk-taking," there’s a flicker of dry humour, though her expression remains serious, "we’ve acquired something powerful. A vial of Dahlia’s blood." She lets the words hang for a moment, watching the ripple they send through the room. "We can use it to keep the Family out. Physically, anyway."
"But," Flora presses on, her voice tightening slightly, "We have to decide where to start." She turns slightly, gesturing to the courtyard behind her. "We can protect the city—where most of you live, where your families sleep, where your businesses are."
Her hand shifts to the open sea, to the breeze curling in from the docks. "Or—we can protect the coast. It’s bigger. It’s riskier. But it’s where our trade comes in, where smugglers and sailors and travellers move through every day. If the Family comes by sea, that’s where they’ll land." They hadn't yet shown that they had the ability to fly, after all.
"We’re not going to make this choice without you. This is your home as much as it’s mine. So…" Flora looks to Hadama then, nodding slightly for him to speak if he wishes, before she turns back to the crowd.
Vesper arrives at the Court of the Stars with Nova and Calypso flanking him like a sunset and a flicker of starlight. The scent of jasmine hangs heavy in the air, curling with the salt wind as the crowd settles around the fountain and the glowing pool beneath the statue of their mother.
Vesper’s gaze tracks the crowd lazily at first—sailors in sun-bleached linen, old women with shawls drawn tightly over their shoulders, merchants clutching ledgers they haven’t let go of since morning. His eyes scan the fringes without urgency, though there’s a brief flicker of something sharper as he checks the distant edges of the crowd for a familiar coat, a particular gait.
With a quiet exhale, he folds his arms and leans against one of the white stone pillars near the edge of the gathering, content to remain a silent observer.
I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Let's not get lost in the dark blue But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you
Remi arrives just before Flora begins, the dome of the Court of the Stars casting a silvery sheen across his curls as he steps into the courtyard. Beside him, his hand finds Ronin ’s almost automatically, fingers interlacing before slipping around his husband's waist instead. He says nothing as they find a place near the back, quiet and unobtrusive. His eyes track Flora’s movements as she speaks, pride stirring faintly in his chest like smoke rising from embers.
Remi’s grip tightens slightly as she mentions Dahlia’s blood. He doesn’t flinch, exactly, but there’s a subtle stiffening in his posture—just enough for Ronin to feel it. The tension fades almost immediately as Flora continues, the Bastion's expression unreadable but engaged. He's here to listen; to support, but not to interfere. If either of the demigods knew the caveat that Dahlia had given the Doubletake, Remi might have found reason to speak up, but as it was, he merely leaned against the Knight, content to let Torchline make its own decision.
the bastion
Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita strolled in – in her usual devil-may-care ambitions, waving to a few before taking her own seat. The proceedings and explanations caused a brief furrowing of her brows; because there were some large matters likely unsaid; but the notions of keeping the Family out was a greater circumstance than the shrewd uncovering of how it had come to be.
And choices.
When no one said anything yet, she pondered over the issues. Torchline had an advantage with a great many strong individuals sequestered here – so when it came to defending, the options were seemingly unending. So what would be better, for those who couldn’t fight? The homes and businesses? The merchants and markets? Or those along the water, already at risk with its closer proximity to Starfall, and whatever else lurked there? “I don’t have an issue with protecting either one,” she started. “So I would think wherever we are most vulnerable – that needs to be guarded.” Her inclinations would be towards the world before them. “So perhaps the coast?” She tilted her head, glancing around to see what others thought.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
Nova steers clear of the pretty purple flowers, nearly holding her breath in case they're somehow similar to the nasty Void variations in Hak Etme. She knows the Void can't reach here, but logic doesn't help the discomfort the makes her linger closer to Vesper. Her magic feels a little frazzled, tingling at her fingertips to remind her of its presence through bits of shimmering starlight and ocean breezes in her yellow and blonde hair.
As if it's only natural, she ignores the overactivity as she looks through the crowd for anything interesting. Politics aren't really her 'thing' but when she spots Melita speaking first, Nova narrows her eyes, suddenly even less invested in the conversation. She might have walked away if Vespy wasn't lounging like stone against the pillar, no signs of leaving. So she settles for fidgeting, twisting the hem of her red dress between her fingers as she waits for them to finish talking.
He nodded once in agreement to Flora's murmured words, his own gaze calmly observing the citizens who had already arrived and the latecomers now trickling in. He was dressed to complement his co-ruler in a sleeveless silk shirt of a matching navy shade, but the silver threads woven through it picked out waves instead of stars. The stars were saved for the fitted black leather of his trousers and glittered alongside his own share of jewelry and accessories, including a crescent moon hair ornament that shone silver above the steel of his tresses.
Flora laid out the task before them and the question that Torchline had to answer while Hadama stood silently beside her, showing his support and content to let his silver-tongued co-ruler handle the talking. His eyes continued to scan the crowd while she did so, seeking familiar faces. Friends. Allies.
Or troublemakers. Those, too.
But the crowd was almost suspiciously quiet for Torchline, and certain notable faces were as yet absent when Melita offered up her opinion. He nodded quiet agreement to her words - though of course, he had a more personal interest in keeping the Port protected and the coast a safe haven for Torchline's more submerged residents. He did not attempt to sway public opinion further than that, however, instead looking to see if anyone else would offer arguments for or against the opening salvo.
Flanking her brother with her sister on his other side, Caly curls easily into the comfort of her siblings as the crowd gathers – letting her amber gaze appear just as innocent as it typically did, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t rather calculating as she scans everyone in attendance. As she very clearly doesn’t spot her father, a quick glance is shot Vesper’s way and a warm golden glow of content whether Jack showed or didn’t, and shifts to get comfortable beside Nova.
Taking note of the fidgeting, she reaches out to snag her sister’s hand with nails painted a brilliant gold, tilting her attention over toward Flora and Hadama, listening as it seems almost eerily quiet. And maybe it’s just because of what Nova had told her of Ludo’s demigod, or maybe it’s because she has a far more vested interest in keeping the city where she slept safe, she straightens a little and clears her throat. “I think we should protect the city.” She starts off, tilting her head enough that the blonde waves dance along her shoulder. “It’s basically our heart, right? Wouldn’t that be worth protectin’ the most?”
Sidling beneath the silvery dome alongside Remi, Ronin leans against his husband to both offer and take as much comfort as is necessary between them. Lacing an arm around his shoulders and settling at the fringes of the crowd, he nods to those he knows and recognises - merchants, sailors, messengers and families, even a few old veterans from other regions come to settle in Torchline after the war. A similar pulse of pride thrums through their bond as Flora begins speaking, the Knight turning to leave a kiss against Remi's curls, though his head snaps back around to hear the cause of this particular gathering.
Where Remi stiffens and near flinches, Ronin glows, and his husband will feel the way his pulse skips and grows faster at the implication. ...If part of Torchline is safe from The Family, he whispers into his husband's mind, then Flora and Mateo and anyone else will be out of their reach. His meaning, with that, is all too obvious. We can get back into the fight.
Isla steps silently into the proceedings, lingering unseen in the crowd as Flora speaks and a few people respond, the soft shawl she wears wrapped tight around her shoulders, held fast by her folded arms. Barefoot, still, and looking as if she's not long stepped in from the sooty crags of Apopo, she has to clear her throat before she speaks to ensure her voice carries enough to be heard.
"I think I agree, that it should be Haulani," she says, "though there are certainly merits to both. But even if our livelihoods are on the coast, the city is where the families of those workers live and sleep and feel safe. It may be easier to defend, too." Of course it does mean that the larger part of their region will be left open to The Family, if not necessarily to the void.
Sacrifices are necessary, though, regardless of the choices made.
honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time
Flora's eyes drift once more to the open columns that frame the sea, the breeze tugging at the edges of her gown like a reminder. For just a moment, her mind slips elsewhere—she imagines a voice cutting through all this silence, dry and sardonic, asking if she'd carved out a little place for him to drop anchor. If Jack were here, she knows exactly what he'd argue for. The coast. Of course, it would be the coast.
But he isn’t here.
And as her gaze returns to the gathered crowd—Calypsoth her golden certainty, Isla ’s quiet pragmatism, Remi and Ronin watching from the back like quiet sentinels—Flora breathes in the jasmine-laced air and nods.
"Seems like the consensus is the city," she says, her voice steady now. "So unless someone has a really compelling reason to say otherwise…" Her eyes sweep the courtyard one last time, just to be sure. "We’ll begin by protecting Haulani."
Emerald eyes fell upon Calypso, but the King's expression did not change as she countered Melita's suggestion. If there was a slight flex to his jaw, it was a subtle thing. Easily missed at the distance most of the vocal Torchers had chosen to stand, towards the back of the gathering. Isla's vote drew his attention next, speaking for the landdwellers.
And though his gaze sought out and found the Taliesins in the crowd, they remained silent in their opinions.
And perhaps he would have spoken, then. Knowing what he did of what the cost would be. Of where the heart of Haulani lay for him. Knowing how challenging it would be to gain more blood to protect the rest of their region.
But Flora spoke first, firm and without hesitation, and he could not find it in himself to weaken her resolve. He drew a deep breath and nodded his head - not in agreement, but in acquiescence, though there was no outward difference between the two. "Haulani," he confirmed in a low rumble. "You know what must be done. Volunteers to collect rocks, speak with Flora. Those who are willing to place them, come see me. We will set a place and time to meet once the stones have been gathered."
Whatever they individually felt about the decision, the rulers of Torchline would abide by it. And see their people safe.
