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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!
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Understanding is enough; Danta doesn't necessarily ask for agreement when it comes to the way the chaos flows and boils through his blood, especially regarding the butcher and his wellbeing. Perhaps the season is having a phantom effect on him as well, because suddenly all he wants to do is lock the doors to their room and remind the man beneath him with tongue and teeth and touch exactly why he's worth coming home to. He doesn't, though - not yet, anyway.
Because he doesn't realise it but he's been bracing for a fight about this from the second the words leave his lips, and when it doesn't come, he's left strangely adrift while Asta thinks it over. Danta's hands slip down to rest against his chest as the other man's head tilts back, his thumb brushing softly over the silk of his shirt. "I don't know," he confesses. "She's still in the thick of it with this Pierce shit, so I doubt it would be a welcome question. I just... I don't like feeling like a third wheel." He says it softly, as if it's only just occurring to him.
"I never feel like that with Flora, or with Charlie, or any of our other friends. But I'm starting to with Thal." It comes out almost like an apology, something he deeply dislikes in himself.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
There is no reason to fight, at least from Asta’s perspective. Danta was allowed to feel what he was feeling, even if the butcher couldn’t see it. The way he explains it and he has a chance to put the pieces together, he understands, which is a rare thing indeed this season. After all, he didn’t need his Feirw shift to feel suddenly possessive and protective of the Maverick when he was flashing flirty smiles at anyone else but himself. He’d already had his own momentary panic about it before.
And they’d talked about it after. As they are now, it seems, with the way his lover’s voice leaves him. Softer, a confession, like he doesn’t want to admit it. It’s a large step for the other Ancient, he realizes suddenly, and so he tears his gaze away from the ceiling to scan his lover’s face, one hand leaving him to cover the hand that presses against his chest. “I am sorry that you have felt that way.” He starts off, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps it is because Charlie and Flora engage with you more than Thalassa does.” Not to give an excuse to it, but if it had been more friendly perhaps it wouldn’t be as big of a deal.
Because he can see the pieces of why he’d started to get so guarded. “Let me heal her, darling, and I will fix this.” He vows, the dark honey of his gaze scans Danta’s face with conviction.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Danta's lips flinch towards a smile, as if he's one step away from breezing past it all and calling it a moment of madness. But the apology strikes a chord that goes far deeper than he expects, and he swallows past a sudden tightness in his throat and ducks his head in a quick nod. "Maybe," he says quietly. "We've spoken more recently, but as you've probably noticed, she's not much of a conversationalist." Especially not on the heels of a heartbreak.
Still, whatever embers had been threatening to roar up in defence have long been smothered by the butcher's understanding, and he leans in for a soft kiss that never threatens to become more than sweetness and affection. "Alright," he says, entrusting what happens next to the butcher's oh-so-clever hands. "If you expect us to wear a get-along shirt though, the answer is no." Some people aren't made to be firm friends, and that's okay too.
With another quick kiss, Danta straightens back up, his tail flicking gently at the tip. "I appear to have ruined the last taste test with my theatrics, but you're welcome to still try it."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Even if he did pretend it didn’t really matter, there’s absolutely no way the butcher would be able to brush it off. This isn’t like before, when he hadn’t really understood the gravity of the things he was doing - this was a reminder that the butcher needed to keep himself in check more often. He could miss everything without even realizing it. (Chalk it up to bad socialization in his youth, because y’know, cannibal).
Regardless, his lips quirk in the twitch of a smile as he nods. “She is not, no. She was quite prickly with me at first as well.” Until she’d realized he didn’t want anything from her but friendship. Though, perhaps he’s always been drawn to keeping friends with those that are hard to pin down otherwise. Whatever it is doesn’t reach the air in the room as ants leans in for a sweet and affectionate kiss, one that he presses back into with relief that it would not become a big fight. At least, not this time.
His laugh at Danta’s response punches out of him, the immediate shake of his head and wide smile tugging back into place, leaving each sharp tooth clearly on display. “Oh, darling, you would eat her alive.” He purrs, tail twitching as his hands drop to run back along his lover’s legs and up to his hips.
The quick kiss calms him, however, and he leans in to brush his nose against Danta’s own before he answers close enough to let his lips brush against the other Ancient’s. “If it helps, I did not see what it is. I can still guess.” He touts proudly, going so far as to withdraw with the playful twist of his smile into a smirk as he closes his eyes tightly, tipping his chin up as if expectant of another bite he can’t see.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Mm, that's more your thing I think. Eating people alive, I mean." Danta smirks, feeling the parts of him that have grown icy and rigid start to thaw out again. "Not that I'm adverse to the occasional treat." Reaching up to cup the butcher's jaw as if to admire those wickedly sharp teeth for himself for a moment, before he can comment further Asta is already helping himself back to their little game, and the laugh that spills out of him is unexpected even to his own ears.
"Oh, I see," he purrs, shifting just enough to reach towards the tray that's still out of sight of the other man. "Alright. But you don't have to try hard to guess this one, I don't think." Like the chocolate before, the scent of this will hit Asta long before it gets near his lips. This time, though, it's not sweetness and decadence - it's fucking brandy, a fruitcake soaked in enough of it to numb the lips and warm the throat and chest all the way down.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
He keeps his smile on display as if prepped for the inspection Danta does — feeling the warmth of his hand as it cups his jaw, each gleaming fang visible and wickedly sharp. It’s a temporary inspection, however, because of how he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, prepared to continue their little guessing game so that not all is lost. “I am sure to indulge you on those occasions.” With the trinkets he brings back from the few ventures he takes, that is. Although, unfortunately, they aren’t alive any longer.
Regardless, the butcher’s eyes remain closed as he feels his lover shift in his lap, the smile on his face brightening a fraction before the scent of the cake hits him and he opens his mouth quite swiftly. He’s right in that it doesn’t take a lot of guesswork. The flavor is sharp, warm, sweet, and fucking strong.
He chews it (minimally because it definitely falls apart the second it hits his tongue), and he hums a warm and bubbling laugh, muted because he swallows the bite and lets the heat of the brandy warm him further as it descends down his throat and chest. “Wow.” He says as he rumbles another soft laugh, eyes still closed, fingers tracing idle lines against Danta’s legs. “Brandy. I would very much like this all of Deepfrost, if it is not too much trouble.” Opening his eyes, the dark honey swims with amusement and truth.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Damn right you are," Danta croons, allowing a small smile to curl across his lips as he feeds Asta the last bite of cake. His reaction is everything the Maverick has expected and more, his laughter joining the butcher's as he sets the fork aside and raises his eyebrows. "I might have gone slightly overboard with it when the head baker showed me how to soak the cake in brandy," he admits, though it doesn't seem as if Asta minds one bit.
Relaxing into the idle stroke of the other man's fingers, when his eyes open at last, Danta almost melts against the warmth in them. "I'm sure I can have that arranged," he says, smoothing a hand across the collar of Asta's shirt, getting rid of a non-existent crease. "Is it wrong that I'm quite looking forward to Deepfrost this year?" he says, lowering his voice a bit. "Not that it hasn't been delightful to see you like this, but I can see how much it's stressing you out too."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Darling, if this is overboard I would loathe to see the result it should have been.” He murmurs softly, humming a soft laugh as he focuses his attentions on his lover - fingertips sweeping along his legs before he sweeps them up again, pressing and curving up against the sharp edges of his hips. Infinitely pleased, however, to hear that he can have it arranged for Deepfrost, the butcher’s smile softens a touch.
Understanding glints in the honey dark of his gaze, his heart an easy and gentle beat beneath his fingertips where his hand rests against the collar of his shirt. “It has been… A lot to manage. If I had to guess, I will certainly be exhausted when it’s over.” But unfortunately for him, he thinks it’ll last one or two days of getting good rest when in reality he’s in for quite another shock the second the snows hit. “At the very least we will know next year and it shan’t be a surprise, yes?” They would have time to prepare for it, knowing what it was like.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Oh? In that case I'll let the baker know his ingredient proportions need to be adjusted from here on," Danta says with a soft laugh, reaching out to snag a bit of the brandy cake for himself - if Asta glances to the tray, he'll spot all three slices that he's been taste testing, and he can also feel free to devour them whenever he likes. "Mm, I bet," he agrees; a lot to manage is quite a tactful way of putting it, Danta thinks.
Finishing his bite of cake, he settles further in the other man's lap, offering him a smile that borders on apologetic. "Sorry for adding more to your plate with my own shit," he says, brushing a thumb across the scruff of his jaw. "But yes, you're right. Next year we'll spend the start of Leafchange somewhere remote out in the wilds. Hak Etme, maybe. Get your head on straight before forcing you to be around people."
Grinning, Danta leans in to brush his nose against the butcher's. "Maybe we could start a fight club here too," he suggests with a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Good. I look forward to hearing his grumbling complaints in passing.” The butcher teases, his smile tugging a bit brighter as he notices the rest of the cakes laid out. He reaches out, then, snagging a bite of the first cake - citrus and cream cheese frosting, uncaring for the moment that he dips his fingers into the frosting. He takes the bite and spends a moment licking the icing from his fingers as his free hand continues to sweep up his lover’s side. He relaxes into the cushions a bit more, too, brows lifting a fraction to see the apologetic smile bloom.
And he isn’t really expecting the apology, but not unlike a cat does the butcher tilt his head into his touch, affection glittering in the dark honey of his eyes. “Do not be sorry, darling.” He hums, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before he blinks back over at him as he leans in. “Perhaps we can go run amok in the swamp again?” He teases, head tilting up to press a kiss to the tip of his lover’s nose once he’s brushed his own against his.
A low, dramatic gasp is inhaled, his fingertips twitching against Danta’s skin from where he’s tucked his hand up under the oversize shirt he wears. “A fight club? An extracurricular activity that sounds heavenly this season. I cannot wait.” He murmurs with a warm laugh. And then he’s surging in to capture him in a kiss, something gentler than he’s been initially capable of instigating this season. It’s sweet and gentle but borders on the edge of desire and need that he seems to be trying to restrain.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"It depends. If the cake is full of brandy, perhaps he'll be too tipsy to complain moving forward," Danta reasons with a grin and a casual shrug of his shoulder; the staff at the Dusklight do put up with quite a lot of chaos to their credit, so regardless of the reaction, he feels as though the baker is resilient enough to handle it.
Privately glad that Asta is distracted by the cake when his apology hits the air, Danta nevertheless allows a small smile to himself at his response - and at the kiss pressed to the palm of his hand. "Ah, maybe," he agrees, scoffing at the memory. "You did quite like it out there in the Feverlands, didn't you? Maybe we can take a trek in a few days, see what other delights there are."
For now, though, there's apparently a fight club worth considering - and even better than that besides; Danta's response is snatched away by the bite of citrus in Asta's kiss, and no matter how gentle he might be, the Maverick can taste the truth that crackles beneath the sweetness. "I bet I could find another use for that blindfold," he purrs against his lips. "Though I've got a feeling I'll end up being the one wearing it."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Perhaps the baker would be too tipsy to try and complain about the adjustment to the recipe. Gods knew Asta could already feel the warmth blooming in his gut. It’s a warmth that’s settled alongside the other kind - content that Danta isn’t still upset. “I did. That tree was phenomenal.” He hums, his tone taking on a playful dramatic nostalgia, whispered and playful. But he doesn’t focus on what potential options they might find out there.
There’s other times to think about what kind of bog creature he could become.
Instead he delves in for the kiss, trying to hide it beneath the very obvious lilt and press of his lips, such that when they part and he hears Danta’s purr it’s essentially all over for him. His fingertips on his free hand tuck into the waistband of his pants, his smile felt as it tugs against his lips form where theirs brush. “Ah, but we could definitely make it fun.” He hums, stealing another shorter kiss as he dips his finger into the citrus cake, swiping up some of the frosting.
He sits back a little to make some distance, but just enough that he can swipe his frosting coated finger across Danta’s lower lip, down his chin, and against the hollow of his throat. “What do you say, darling?” He asks, before he leans in and drags his hot tongue against his lover's throat, a slow sweeping and promising motion up to his lips.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
The tree, alas, is long forgotten in Danta's mind (the Hanging Tree anyway; he's still got very good and relevant memories of the ones in Ludo's Woods), and the second Asta's hips rock into him, he's already unravelling beneath the touch of his hands. "You can make anything fun when you're in this sort of mood," he purrs, flashing a fanged grin as the butcher sits back, giving Danta time to tug his oversized shirt over his head and toss it aside.
A good move, as it turns out, because suddenly there's icing swiped from his lower lip down to the hollow of his throat, and his question tapers into little more than a soft, surprised sound of enjoyment as Asta moves in. Tipping his head back a fraction and closing his eyes to better focus on the feel of a hot tongue dragging across his skin, Danta's back arches automatically, his hands fisting against Asta's shirt, and a breathless laugh breaks from his lips.
"I say you have the best ideas," he whispers, tilting his head back down so he might direct the other man to the icing leftover; at this rate, he might develop a sweet tooth of his own yet.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
He knows him so well - the little ego boost that has him right under his thumb. Such that he watches briefly with heat and adoration as Danta slips the shirt over his head, ignoring the pile it becomes on the floor. It gives him the opportune moment to drag the icing down along his lover’s skin, to sweep in and drag his tongue along each portion of sweet that’s left behind. He arches and Asta’s body responds in kind, tension forming in his lap where the Maverick sits that he’ll certainly feel despite the way that Asta seems to pay it little mind.
Having cleaned up his finger already, he tilts his own head up to catch Danta’s lips in a sweet kiss - distracting him as his hands withdraw from him fully to snag the blindfold from their lap, fingers brushing against the front of Danta’s pants. The blindfold is snagged and lifted, securely tied around Danta’s eyes to blot out the light with a deft precision that doesn’t have him breaking the kiss.
"You flatter me, don't you darling?" He purrs when he does withdraw. It's with hands dropping lower and down Danta’s chest and his stomach toward his lap to the front of his pants to undo the button, to work at getting him out of his clothes before the fun could really begin.
