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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 gaze sharpens over the rim of her mug. "Everyone going to Starfall is immortal, or else they really shouldn't be going," she says, tone quiet but pointed. "And if you’re so worried about the consequences of my death, why haven’t you spent your time not interfering with Dahlia by questing with Vi in order to bring back even more of us per year." The words aren’t exactly accusatory, but there’s certainly something tired behind them, heavy with everything she hasn’t had the luxury of setting down.
As for the boat.. "A sailboat," she says, shrugging one shoulder as if to make the decision feel casual. "I’ve lived on a ship the past few seasons, and I’ve picked up more than you’d think. But yeah... I know something smaller’ll take some getting used to." Her mouth curves faintly, dry humour sliding in at the edges. "Still, I’d like to be able to move around without needing anyone else to do it for me. Especially now."
"You've really got an answer for everything haven't you?" Ronin says mildly, though there's perhaps a thread of steel in his words now as he turns back to his painting while they talk. "If you must know, after Seren died, I feel as though I already can bring back more people per year. But I think I'm at a limit of three. Suppose it can't help, though, to beggar more chances from the big man..." His voice is quiet, though it might be misconstrued for concentration as he focuses on painting decorative swirls against the window frame.
"Sailboat it is," he says, sitting back to check his work before continuing. "I'll see if we can model it off something existing in the marina. Might even be able to scoop up a project piece to fix up for you." Because for all of his great many skills, sailing and knowing how boats work isn't one of them. That's more another man's skillset, as Flora already well knows.
Flora’s grin curves sharp and sudden, like sunlight through storm clouds. "Who do you think I got that particular trait from?" she quips, one brow arched as she sips at her tea again. "If you’re really that worried about running out of chances," she adds more gently, her voice dipping lower, "then yeah. Maybe you should ask."
She moves then, stepping over paint cans and scattered tools with the grace of someone who’s grown up dodging chaos (and creating it). Sliding her arms around Ronin’s middle, she presses her cheek to his back, the scent of varnish and salt and home settling around her like a blanket. Her sigh is quiet, but it breathes warmth into the moment, her thanks murmured into his shoulder.
"I know I’m being a shit," she says softly, not letting go. "But thanks. For the boat. For... not arguing harder. For always helping me even when I make it hard." Her fingers tighten just slightly around him before she adds, "You and Dad are still the gold standard, you know. For what love should look like. So... sorry if I’m holding it all to that."
"Definitely Sunjata. We all know how good he is with words," Ronin says, quick as you like, and though his mischievous smile is entirely for himself, Flora will be able to hear it in his tone. "Truthfully I'd prefer to ask for something I could fight with. It's been... a lot, to be reduced to a glorified revivify feather, important though it might be," he admits.
Painting a few more strokes into his decorations, only as he sits back again does Ronin realise that Flora has tip-toed her way closer, the Knight stiffening at first before relaxing into the sudden hug she pressed against his back. "It's what parents are for, Flora." He smiles. And I've lost enough kids without wrecking things for the ones I have left. "That may be true now, for me and your Dad, but you know as well as I do that it wasn't always the case."
Turning to hook an arm around her and kiss her forehead, Ronin gives her a squeeze in return before releasing her. "Now, if you want to understand more what love looks like, you'll take pity on me and pick up a paintbrush to help. But, you know, if you suddenly have very important things to do, I suppose I'll understand."
"Then go ask," Flora says softly, not moving away just yet. Still, her smile returns when he kisses her forehead, and the moment lingers between them like warmth from a fire that hasn’t gone out. "Finnnne," she sighs dramatically as he releases her. "But only because I’m tragically noble and unbelievably helpful now because of you." With a mock flourish, she selects one of the clean brushes and dips it in the paint like she’s drawing a sword.
The first strokes she adds to the boards are careful. Respectful. But it doesn’t take long before swirling vines begin to bloom along the edge of a window. Bright petals follow, spiraling across the frame in a tangle of colours no normal flower would dare wear together. She hums as she works, unapologetically filling the boat’s trim with a riot of florals that seem to grow louder the more she paints. "If this ends up looking like the garden of a deeply unwell fae child," Flora says cheerfully, without looking up, "just remember you invited me to help."
