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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.
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11-05-2025, 12:19 PM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2025, 09:51 AM by Flora.)
flora
Sunlight shivers through the glass dome like spilled champagne, gilding the marble floors and the slow curve of Flora’s handwriting. She’s been at it for hours; Torchline’s coastal reports stacked like coral reefs across her desk, a sea of parchment and ink that threatens to drown her if she so much as blinks too long. Somewhere outside, the hels are laughing about it, she's sure.
Her attire, at least, refuses to share her misery. A soft wrap dress of cream silk clings and breathes with the season, its hem brushing against her bare calves each time she shifts in her chair. Gold rings glint when she turns a page—little suns orbiting her fingers—and her curls are piled in a messy knot that somehow still looks intentional, a few strands falling against her neck where the heat gathers.
She’s pretending to care deeply about the new dock inspection summaries when what she’s really doing is listening for footsteps, for the faint rustle of a picnic basket, for Ronin’s easy laugh echoing through the courthouse halls. He’d promised to bring her lunch when she'd told him she was too busy to leave and meet him somewhere, and though they hadn't set a firm time for it, the grumbling of her stomach suggested he was bordering on late.
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
It's a rare sunny spell between the downpours, and so Ronin has done his best, naturally, to pick up some extras to go along with their picnic. As such, though his footsteps might appear somewhat later than expected - and yes, Flora will hear him exchanging words and laughter with someone in the corridor as a precursor to his arrival - when he does appear in the doorway, it's with both a loaded picnic basket jauntily hanging from his arm and a couple of large milkshakes in the other.
"Working hard, or hardly working?" Grinning broadly, mainly because they both know the calibre of dad joke he's just unleashed is still mild compared what it might be, he smiles around at Flora's office as he steps further inside. "Look at this, all professional and swanky. Much nicer than my office in Stormbreak when I was Commander," he says, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. "Time for a break?"
The faint sound of laughter in the corridor makes Flora straighten instantly. She’s half out of her chair before he even appears, and whatever reprimand she’d been planning about his timing melts clean away the moment she spots the milkshakes. Her eyes go wide, delighted, lips parting in a soft gasp that’s far too dramatic for anyone else but perfectly natural for her.
Rolling her eyes at his joke but unable to fight the grin that curls through her, Flora crosses the room in a rush of silk and sunlight. "Gods you're the worst," she laughs, the words bright and fond as she wraps her arms around him for a quick hug, the kind that still smells faintly of the sea and ink and something floral from her hair. She immediately snipes one of the milkshakes out of his hand before he can protest, already sipping with a hum of approval.
At his comment about her office, she glances around the marble-and-gold space with exaggerated nonchalance before grinning over her straw. "Well, I’m pretty sure no one held a dagger to your head and made you work out of a shoebox," she teases, aqua eyes sparkling. The line lands with a playful lilt, softened by the warmth that follows. "Seriously though, thanks for lunch."
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
"Mmhm, certified the worst," Ronin agrees, puffing out his chest for good measure and opening his arms to accept her hug without risking their lunch. Only once she's relieved him of one of the milkshakes and stepped back does he drift further into the space, setting the basket down on the ornate chair opposite Flora's desk. (There doesn't seem to be any space on the desk anyway).
"No? I'm pretty sure someone did. Her name was the Voice and she was very rudely amping up for a war when I became leader of Stormbreak. No time for marble statues or solariums," he mumbles around his milkshake straw, absently peeping over a random pile of missives and thumbing through it with mild interest. "Granted, all of my paper work was to do with skyship berths, dragoon trainings and wartime plans. Not... sightings of pirates?"
Flora tilts her head side to side, curls bouncing with the motion, considering him with mock seriousness. "Mmm, I don’t know about that," she muses, voice lilting with play. "There’s always time for decorating. Priorities, Ronin."
As he starts nosing through the nearest pile of parchment, she clears her throat with pointed theatricality; a sound sharp enough to bounce off the dome above them. Brows lift high, expression poised somewhere between scandal and fond exasperation as she fixes him with a look that could strip barnacles off a hull. The kind that very clearly says and what exactly do you think you’re doing rifling through the Queen’s things, mister?
Her lips twitch despite herself, laughter bubbling through before it can settle into anything stern. "Luckily for both of us, the wartime planning’s over," she says, leaning back against her desk with her milkshake in hand. "Though soldier training still ranks right up there—just beneath bar rebuilding and regional pageantry."
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
"Mm, of course. How silly of me," Ronin mumbles, letting the paper fall again just as Flora's dramatic excuse me how dare you throat clearing grabs for his attention. Glancing up at her, the Knight responds by slurping noisily through the straw of his milkshake, glancing over a couple more reports before lazily stepping away from the desk again. "That is a relief," he agrees of the lack of battle planning to be done, absently gesturing to the picnic basket as if to ask Flora where she'd like to go to have lunch.
"I can take the training if you want," he says breezily. "And you can count on both Remi and I for the bar rebuilding, just say the word. Not sure how useful we'll be at regional pageantry, though. Is Torchline a streamers and bunting kind of place? Or are we building floats of you to parade through the streets?"
Flora’s frown is delicate but unmistakable, the kind that pulls her mouth into something soft yet unmistakably queenly. Her eyes flick down to Ronin's hands still hovering near her paperwork, and she hums a note of light disapproval that he hadn't stopped before; the sound light but laced with warning, like a cat’s purr before the claws.
"Mm, yes," she agrees distractedly as she stands, milkshake in hand and nods toward the far side of the room, where sunlight spills through tall windows onto a pair of deep blue couches framed by potted palms. She leads the way, skirts whispering against the marble as she sinks into one of the couches with a soft sigh, curling a leg beneath her. Another loud slurp punctuates her approval of the milkshake before she grins over the rim at him.
"That’d be a help, actually. I think Kaisel’s planning some sort of soldier-related activities soon—so maybe you two could join forces. Between your experience and his...enthusiasm, I’m sure something explosive will happen." And if it did, better the demigod with the ability to bring people back from the dead be in attendance.
Flora laughs as she tilts her head back against the cushions, the tension easing from her shoulders. "And I don’t know," she says, feigning deep consideration. "I think you and Remi would be exceptional at pageantry." Her brows rise mischievously before she snorts, shaking her head and brushing an escaped curl from her cheek. "Though I was more thinking directional signage and floral arrangements for the lightposts, not life-sized floats of me, tempting as that sounds. With Hadama gone, I'm going for a full season of being responsible before letting the power go to my head."
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
At Flora's direction, Ronin pads over to the sun dappled couches as well, perching on the one the Doubletake doesn't occupy and sitting forward to do the most important task of all - that being to unpack their picnic, of course. "Oh, sure," he says of working with Kaisel. "He helped me prep some of the firewood last season for the Longnight bonfires. I suggested he help patrol - seemed like he was doing a good job whenever I came to check in." Around his game of sea monsters with Remi, of course.
From the basket Ronin produces two deli sandwiches, all soft artisinal bread stuffed with shredded rosemary chicken, crispy prosciutto and swiss cheese, setting them down in their paper wrapping between them. "Help yourself, I made them this morning," he tells her, adding a punnet container of sliced strawberries, a slab of chocolate, and a bottle of cool flavoured water in case the milkshake is too much.
"Ew, boring," he mumbles around a bite of sandwich - it's not often if ever that Ronin isn't weighed down by the shackles of responsibility, and it's quietly freeing to be able to be tired of it for a little while. "I get it though," he continues. "Well, if the floats of you are off the table, I suppose I can help to put up the signage at least."
Flora snickers, the sound bright and knowing as she picks at a stray thread on her dress. "Ah, yes, that sounds about right. He was, uh, coordinating efforts with other regions to keep the beaches safe during LongNight." By which of course she means Kaisel had spent the better part of the week riding Charlie around, but framing it as some sort of political alliance sounded much better.
Her brows shoot up as Ronin begins to unpack the basket, the warm smell of rosemary and prosciutto hitting her like a revelation. "You made these?" she repeats, incredulous, eyes wide as if he’s just announced he’s mastered alchemy. She plucks up one of the sandwiches and takes a large, unladylike bite, a hum of delight muffled behind her hand as she chews. "Thanks," she says once she can speak again, already chasing the bite with another greedy sip of her milkshake.
Leaning back into the couch, she lets out a satisfied sigh, the kind that hums through her chest like a small song. "Speaking of Kaisel..." Her words trail off as a smile blooms across her face; slow, soft, and so full of affection that it transforms her completely. The usual sparkle of mischief in her eyes gives way to something gentler, warmer. "We're uhh...dating," she says at last, beaming. Then, lifting her gaze back to him, her grin turns teasing again. "So I was wondering if you and Remi might find time to fit in a family dinner. You know, if your schedules of artisanal breadmaking and playing sea monster allow for it."
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
"Protecting the coastline and networking with other regions? A genius," Ronin says with a smirk, raising his sandwich in a quick toast to Kaisel, even if he agrees that he's more like nine parts enthusiasm and one part whatever the job actually requires. Taking another bite of his sandwich, his mouth is too full for an actual response at first, and he only manages a muffled mmhm before pausing to eat. "Yeah, of course. I ban Remi from the kitchen most days now. He's in charge of coffee and tea, I'm in charge of not burning dinner."
Uncapping the water to pour them each a small cupful - it's been flavoured with citrus slices that can be seen bobbing around through the bright condensation - Ronin is taking a quick sip as Flora continues, and thankfully he finishes just as the word dating passes her lips. No spit-takes here today, thanks. "You're what?" he barks, his tone incredulous but his smile clearly delighted. "I mean yes, obviously we'll make time. How long have you been together? I can't believe I haven't threatened him yet. Ugh, Flora."
Grinning, as if she's ruined his fun by not saying something immediately, Ronin settles back in his seat and takes another sip of water. "And how are things going?"
Flora grins, nodding emphatically as if Ronin has just delivered an absolute truth. "He’s very good," she agrees, her tone all sunshine and secret pride. At his comment about Remi and the kitchen, she snickers under her breath, eyes crinkling with mischief. "Gods, that sounds adorably domestic of the two of you," she mutters into her straw before taking another long sip, the sound of her laughter blending with it.
When Ronin reacts to her confession, she can’t help the catlike grin that spreads across her face; sharp with amusement but soft at the edges, like she’s caught halfway between smug and bashful. "Mmhmm," she hums around her straw, shoulders lifting in an airy shrug. "Maybe half a season now? I didn’t want to rush into anything after how things with Jack ended." Her tone is careful but light, the shadow of it flickering and fading as quickly as the mention comes.
At his mock complaint about missing his chance to issue threats, she laughs outright, head tipping back, curls tumbling loose. "Do you remember how well it went the last time you threatened my boyfriend at family dinner?" she teases, raising her brows meaningfully, her grin widening at the memory. "I’m not sure we need a sequel."
When he asks how it’s going, though, the teasing falters, not in discomfort, but in tenderness. She nibbles lightly at the inside of her cheek, trying to contain the smile that insists on growing. "It’s going really well," she admits, voice softer now, threaded with sincerity. Her gaze drops to her hands, fingers tracing idle patterns on the cup. The happiness radiating from her is so tangible it nearly hums. "He makes me so happy, Ronin." Finally, she glances up at him again, eyes bright and a little misty from smiling too much. "We never stop laughing, you know?" she says, quiet but certain, the words not so much a boast as a confession.
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
"We've been married for ten years - I'd be worried if we weren't at least a little domestic with one another," Ronin reminds her with a smirk as he sets his glass back down on the table. "Around all the war and death and drama, at least." He waves a hand as if to say it doesn't really count any more, not now that the void has vacated Caido and they can all breathe again without worrying about the Family.
Reaching for a strawberry half, now it's the Knight's turn for his smile to turn mischievous, and he shrugs airily as he pops the berry into his mouth. "Bold of you to assume he was the only one I've ever threatened. Mostly it goes a lot better than it did back then. Maybe this time we can even laugh about it over dinner." You know, around Ronin's oh-so-serious promises that he'll drop Kaisel into the Maw if he hurts Flora.
Still, he softens to see her so readily admit to happiness, the way it streams out of her like the first fingers of dawn across a dark horizon, and he sighs and relaxes a little further. "Good," he tells her, low and sincere. "The rest doesn't matter, you know? If you're happy, and you can keep saying that, whatever else goes on is by the by."
Glancing across the office to the desk and its horde of paper, this time when Ronin brings it up, it's with less humour and more genuine inquiry. "Do you need any help with this?" he asks. "Like... real, permanent help? It's a lot for any one person to handle - both of us know that now from experience."
Flora shrugs one shoulder in playful protest, her smile tugging crookedly. "Oh, I don’t know..." she says, drawing the words out in mock consideration before laughing, the sound bubbling bright and unrestrained. "I kind of thought you two were getting into your feral old man era." There’s mischief in her eyes as she says it, the kind that makes it hard to tell if she’s teasing or making an observation she’ll defend to her last breath.
Her jaw drops at his next comment, both feigned and a little genuine. "Shut up!" she gasps, laughter breaking through before she can finish pretending to be offended. "Okay, maybe threats over dinner are fine," she concedes with a shrug, a glimmer of amusement sparking in her gaze. "As long as no one corners us in a bar this time."
For a moment, it seems like she’s going to say something else—her mouth opens, eyes softening, something unsaid hovering between the syllables—but his glance toward her desk redirects the thought before it can escape. She follows his gaze, taking in the tide of parchment spilling across the surface, and feels the weight of it in her chest. Her expression sobers slightly, curiosity blooming in its place.
When she looks back at him, her head tilts just enough to send one loose curl sliding against her shoulder. "What did you have in mind?"
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
"We can be feral old men on the weekends. Otherwise there's a lot of going for drinks and lunches and picking up hobbies that sound good for a couple of weeks before we get bored," Ronin says with a casual wave of his hand. He recalls the knitting, the baking, the stint with macrame that he'd briefly gone through with Remi. At least there's always playing sea monsters to fall back on though, eh?
Scoffing and holding up both hands in surrender at the reminder of the bar cornering - the Knight might have pointed out that he had only served as the distraction for that little incident - both of them (luckily, perhaps) seem distracted by the looming mountain of paperwork on the desk in their periphery. "Well," he says, glancing back towards Flora with a softer smile, "a lot of leaders have councils so the work doesn't just fall on one person. I was on Remi's."
Sitting up now, leaning his elbows on his knees, Ronin scrunches his nose at the paperwork. "I'm just saying, you don't have to do this all by yourself. Helping you to keep on top of things would be a lot more productive than being a feral old man. If that's something you'd want, obviously."
