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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!
Torchline’s afternoon tide slid forward in lazy, sun-warmed breaths, each small wave lapping against the legs of a weather-bleached chair planted knee-deep in the surf. Flora lounged in it—or tried to, sandals tossed aside, sea-foam hissing around her calves. A woven sun-hat shaded her aqua eyes, and Spice dozed on the armrest, the little dragon’s tail flicking salt droplets like a metronome.
Don’t think about it.
She drew a slow breath, tasting brine and hibiscus on the wind. The quest was simple in wording, impossible in practice: hold a memory at bay. The one Flora had gone with was Jack’s voice, hoarse and startled, in the Sidhe Village just a night after both of them clawed back from death: I love you, too.
Flora exhaled, letting the wave retreat. Not thinking about it, she told herself, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of water, on the gulls wheeling overhead, on the glint of a kite-fish leaping farther out.
I love you, too.
The words ricocheted anyway, softer now, echoing in spaces she’d tried to wall off. So her mind lurched sideways, hunting safer ground—and landed, predictably, in the Celestine. Koa with sunflowers in his hands, meeting her eyes beneath fairy lights, saying I’m in love with you like it was equal parts confession and curse. The rush of heat in her veins. The bloom of possibility that never got to flower.
"Ugh." The groan tore free before she could stop it. She snapped her eyes open, sunlight stabbing silver off the water, and kicked a sheet of foam outward. It splashed harmlessly, startling a crab scuttling by her toes. Spice cracked one eye, chirped reproachfully, and settled again.
Fresh from harassing Halo, the Honeybee coasted along the sand, relishing the feel of the hot dunes clinging to her feet. Eventually it’d get too warm, but for now, she simply enjoyed the juxtaposition of the frigid portions of Halo, to the perfected environment of Torchline.
Fangorn and Sila bounded along too, but the latter recognized Spice in the distance, chirping politely – before Melita’s head swung up to see Flora kicking at stuff amidst waves. It’d been a little while since they’d talked – the demigod had been busy tending to her own duties and necessities (chaos and mischief, mostly), but the rumor mill hadn’t been kind lately as far as the Doubletake was concerned. The Ark workers talked quite a bit; a gossipy bunch, and the whole thing between her and Jack seemed, well, blown up from their perspectives.
So she shielded her eyes from the sun and hollered out, until she got closer. “Hey, you good?”
Flora squinted toward the shore, one hand lifting lazily to push her glasses up her nose as Melita's voice carried over the surf. A sigh slipped past her lips—half fond, half resigned—as she clocked the familiar outline of the Honeybee wading through the heat haze like she belonged to it. Which, in fairness, she did.
"Define good," Flora called back, voice wry, but she kicked another bit of water for show before settling deeper in her chair. Spice trilled a quiet greeting to Sila, curling protectively around the edge of the armrest like a little white guardian against unsanctioned optimism.
When Mel got close enough, Flora tilted her chin and gave her a look that tried very hard to be nonchalant and failed spectacularly. "Soooooo...I take it you've heard?" she asked, brows lifting. "About me and Jack, I mean. I’m guessing someone from the Ark’s peanut gallery has already given you the drama rundown."
The smirk that followed was automatic but tired, her eyes shaded behind mirrored lenses. She reached out to swirl a toe through the foam, then sighed again, more theatrical this time.
"Anyway. I’m out here doing a quest for your shadowy little boss." Her smile curled faintly. "Ludo said I needed to not think about a specific memory for an hour. Which sounds doable until you actually try it."
The Honeybee’s definition of “good” was a bit of a floundering one – her own range of tempestuous emotions would lend itself to particular bouts of melancholy, contentment, or blinding, vicious rage. She supposed if Flora could at least talk about the haphazard ventures and dilemmas, then at least she was better than she…could’ve been? Melita would’ve been the type to throw everything overboard or set the Ark on fire.
“Eh, just making sure you weren’t ready to toss yourself into the ocean just yet. Especially over an asshat,” and she smiled, though it was more soft and obliging than facetious, golden eyes flickering over the Queen as if assessing mortal peril and how she’d been recovering from the latest. “I have, yeah,” and she gestured off-handedly towards the waves. She withheld the incoming commentary behind her teeth (surprised it took this long or guuuurl c’mon you knew he was a pile of shit), and settled for a childish wrinkle to her nose. “Sorry about all that. He’s always been -,” well, Flora knew.
Shrugging her shoulders, her gaze went back up from sand and squall to Flora’s face as she relented her latest quest – from Ludo itself. If that didn’t inspire a Cheshire grin upon the Honeybee’s face, well, not much more could, save for committing arson. “Oh. Not think about a memory. So like, pushing it aside for others or some shit?” Blowing air out through her lips, she snorted. “I’m guessing it's one especially about Jack? You could have Ludo just take away all of those memories, if you wanted.”
Flora chuckled. "Honestly, I’d be more insulted if you hadn’t rolled your eyes the second you heard." A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, tired but still warm; Melita had been on team eww why since day 1.
Turning back toward the sea, she watched the light skip off the waves, then blew out a long breath. "Ludo didn’t even tell me which memory not to think about. I picked one about Jack because, I dunno, I figured if I was gonna spiral about him anyway, maybe making it for something would help. And then I could try distracting myself." She cast a wry look Melita’s way. "This conversation not exactly helping, by the way. "
At the mention of Ludo’s alternate offer, Flora groaned and tipped her head back dramatically. "Oh, it did basically offer that. Said it would give me what I asked for no problem, but in exchange it got to delete a week of my memories. Its choice of what to take, obviously." Her expression twisted, half-ick, half-thoughtful. "Said no, obviously. Not really in the market for playing roulette with my own trauma. That whole memory-loss mess wrecked my dad and I’m not keen to follow in those particular footsteps."
Letting the words sit a moment, she nudged at a drifting seashell with her toe. "If you had to give up a week of memories, though...what week would you pick?"
She had been on the ew why team for obvious reasons, and though they might not have amassed and accumulated the dilemmas and problems on her belief system, when it still came right down to it – Jack was a shit. So she grinned in response, winking pleasantly. “Eh, sorry,” and she stuck out her tongue, but stepped lightly into the waves all the same, content with the sea foam bounding against her toes before it fanned out again.
The alternative wasn’t surprising; it was the usual Ludo M.O.’s. “That’s fair. I…have given up a memory before,” she paused, tapping on her chin. “Obviously I don’t remember what it was – but likely something traumatic too.” Like, y’know, the time her mother’s ghost choked her. “It’s hard to decide, really, in the end. Some of those memories shaped us into who we are now. So if we lose them…,” she shrugged, not certain of the implications. Flora giving up a bounty of memories and lifetimes with Jack didn’t seem to be in her flare – especially if she still thought of them as good moments, sprinkled in amidst the shitty end result. “Dunno. A week of LongNight trauma to erase wouldn’t be terrible, probably.”
Flora hummed softly, like maybe if she held the sound in her throat long enough it would shake Jack loose from her brain. It didn’t, obviously, but the effort counted for something. (Right?) She fixed her gaze on Melita instead, tracking the redhead’s movements through the surf like it was a lifeline—something tangible to anchor to instead of that stupid smirk or the sound of a door closing.
She opened her mouth to ask what memory Mel had given up, then snorted quietly. "Gods, I almost asked what it was." A wry twist of her mouth followed. She turned to squint at her friend, adjusting her sunglasses where they’d slipped down her nose. "But... did it feel different after? Like something was missing, or did it just kind of slot over and keep going?"
Her fingers tapped idly against the arm of the chair, thoughts chasing themselves in little, useless circles. LongNight trauma. Flora nodded slowly. She hadn’t really had LongNight trauma—not like some did. "...Hey," she said after a second, sitting up slightly. Her eyes narrowed behind the rose-gold lenses, something dawning in her expression. "I don't think I've ever asked—were you in the Hollowed Ground way back when? Like, when the barrier was up?"
She pushed her feet further into the damp sand, just as amused and delighted as the first time she’d done it on Dragon’s Throat vague oasis shoreline. Rattled out of those thoughts, with a wry grin and her features focused back on Flora, splashing a little with her toes amidst the waves, she laughed. “Like it slotted over and kept going. I don’t feel like anything is missing.” Had that meant the memory hadn’t been pivotal? Life altering? Changing? Or that the wound was easily mended by forgoing it altogether? The Honeybee wasn’t certain, and it all likely depended on what had been selected. And in Flora’s case, there might’ve been simply too much.
She flicked a few more droplets back into the waves, eyes scanning below for any signs of shells, when the inquiry came. “Mm. I was.” Young and intrepid and brazen – not unlike how she was now, though a little older and potentially a bit wiser. More powerful and potent, which, for Melita, counted far more. “I went to Torchline as soon as we had the opportunity. Lots of shit in the Grounds. I give props to Danta for fixing it up, because fuuuck that was some ass times.”
Flora tilted her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully behind her sunglasses as she mulled over Melita’s answer. "Huh." It made sense, she supposed. If the gap didn’t leave an ache, then maybe it hadn’t been anything vital—or maybe Ludo just tucked it away cleanly. Her gaze drifted lazily back out to the sea. "Do you think Ludo keeps them somewhere?" she mused aloud, brows lifting. "Like…a library of broken hearts and best days. Just in case?"
She didn’t linger long on the thought, because the moment Mel confirmed she’d been in the Grounds back then, Flora sat forward in her chair, curiosity flaring like a match. "Wait, really?" Her fingers tightened around the armrest. "You were there? Like, for actual LongNights?" Her mind spun through every half-dramatized tale she’d ever heard growing up, all the exaggerated warnings and whispered stories shared over flickering hearthlight.
"Did you all really try and coax luxere into the city for protection? Like—here, Bambi, come be a flashlight-slash-sacrificial glowing deer?"
Melita had never thought about it, not really, and she took a moment to stare at the sand, pondering the circumstances. “Maybe. Otherwise, what’s the point of taking all of them?” Just in case of what she wasn’t sure. “I’ve never heard of anyone asking for them back – I guess because they don’t remember…,” and so was the conundrum spiraling through her head, before she kicked at the waves again and rejoiced in the splashes.
LongNight at the Hollowed Grounds seemed to inspire far more curiosity than the Honeybee had ever considered, and she snorted, glancing downward for shells again. “Yeah. For actual LongNights. And they actually sucked.” She couldn’t imagine that people went through that for three hundred years - with nothing else during those endless evenings but the sounds of monsters trying to fight their way in. “Mhm. We’d use hay and apples and singing. It worked though. Those deer saved us a bunch of times.”
Flora gave a helpless little shrug, her fingers fidgeting with one of her bracelets. "I dunno either. I once got memories from one person and gave them to someone else, but that was more like…loaning a book between friends." Her brows furrowed slightly. "But it wasn't even with Ludo, so...not the same at all, I guess."
The idea of coaxing deer with apples and lullabies still danced uneasily through her thoughts. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, squinting at Melita like she might see the echoes of those nights still hiding behind her eyes. "Gods. It’s like something out of a fairytale. Or—" she wrinkled her nose, "—some sort of nightmare version, where the glowing deer are your only hope and the monsters outside the door don’t ever stop." Which, from what she'd heard, was basically what it was like.
She went quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. "Do you think that’s why none of the original people live in the Grounds now?" she asked, glancing sideways at Mel. "Like, why it’s mostly newer arrivals now? ‘Cause it was just…that awful? So much horror baked into the dirt they all left and never looked back?"
“Oh,” she paused, nose wrinkling at the thought of giving memories over to others, especially ones that hadn’t come one’s own history. “Weird. Was it…helpful?” She supposed she couldn’t quite imagine the purpose behind it – unless it was some nefarious, subversive plot.
And the demigod was certain the whole aspect of luxere luring sounded odd, but it’d been so vital and necessary in those days, that the whole phenomenon had only mattered if it was successful. “Yeah. And the monsters try to lure you out the entire week.” To potentially murder – she’d never been amidst the others who’d dared step out. She’d heard enough stories, and if she was anything at all, Melita was a survivor.
As for anyone original fleeing the Grounds, her mind flickered over those from the years. Evie lived in Halo. Remi and Ronin here within Torchline. Sunjata in King’s End. Perhaps only Maea, and that had only been up until recently, returned to the Hallowed region. Her eyes went to her feet, glancing at the looming ivory shells peeking out from damp sand. “Probably. Why stay in a place that haunted you for so long?”
Flora grins, her teeth flashing bright against sun-warmed skin as she tosses Melita a sideways glance. "Actually? No one knows that I did it." Her voice lowers in mock-conspiracy, even though there’s no one around to overhear. "I took Isla’s memories of her time with my dad and gave them back to him. He’d asked Ludo to make him forget everything about Isla 'cause of the Voice and the war and all that mess." She shrugs one shoulder, like it hadn't sent both the Bastion and Remedy into a complete and utter emotional tailspin. "They're besties again now so I assume it was for the best, but I made Remi think it was his idea."
The mention of monsters luring people out has her wrinkling her nose, pushing her sunglasses back up with one finger. "Okay, but like—why didn’t you just turn up the music and ignore them? Drown 'em out with something fun and stupid, like a singalong or a drinking game or something?" Her voice is joking, but it’s not hard to imagine her actually trying to do just that. Trust Flora to answer existential horror with loud music and cocktails, especially having never experienced true LongNight Dread.
Still, the thought of lingering in a place where the shadows had teeth makes her shiver a little, despite the heat. She nods, absently brushing sand from her thigh. "Yeah. Makes sense. Plus, the weather kind of sucks there. All mud and fog and creepy stone buildings. Torchline’s got its own drama, but at least it’s warm." She flashes Melita a grin. "And the drinks are better."
Flora’s description made her pause, fingers sifting over the shells she’d picked up, brow arching as the tone lowered. “Oh.” What sounded like an inconceivable mess of drama had been granted and given back twofold in…friendship, so apparently it had all shimmied out in the end. Her nose wrinkled, pondering further. “What would you have done if it hadn’t worked?”
As far as monsters and the musings of what could’ve been done, the Honeybee snorted, placing back a few half-broken shards into the damp sand once more. “I think some tried to distract themselves. But there were always those who wanted to be heroic. You know – go maul the monsters. Rescue people. Open the doors.” Blow up bars. Run away from fires. And maybe it was just difficult for Flora to understand, having never been through it – which Melita wouldn’t wish on her anyway. Maybe on her worst enemies (like Sah, he could go shit in his hat), but not the Doubletake.
She nodded at the implications of the Grounds though, her grin returning. “Mm. And I never felt…safe there.” If for whatever reason Torchline gave those indications, then so be it. Maybe the Honeybee was simply comfortable in a world where so many individuals did whatever they damn well pleased.
