Click here for a list of weather descriptions, seasonal festivals, and a real time:site time conversion.
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!
Quite where they all come from, you aren't entirely sure, but the skies are full over the Suvahasi. Full of what, you ask? Brightly patterned hot air balloons, of course! They drift overhead, dotting the endless blue with colour and whimsy, and even better, up here in the desert oasis, the rain and the mud has found it difficult to take hold. As such the ground is firm underfoot, allowing a multitude of stalls to set up their wares as the balloons land and take off nearby.
The scent of cotton candy and popcorn wisps through the air, the vendors nestled between carnival games of ring toss, hook-a-duck and even a coconut shy. Some visitors cluster around the stalls to purchase food and drink or to play games, while others have taken large picnic blankets out onto the sand, relaxing upon them to watch the balloons float by. A few braver souls are even purchasing rides on said balloons, and quite a line is beginning to form for it.
Then, of course, is the Hidden Egg Kiosk.
Those who have found little painted eggs across Caido are invited to present their finds to the kiosk vendor. Who knows, perhaps they'll even come away with a prize!
Welcome to the Flowerbirth 320 Hot Air Balloon Festival! <3
Please post a minimum of THREE times in order for the SWE to count for MP/Levelling purposes.
If your character has one (or more) painted eggs in their possession, please mention this in your first post and link the thread(s) where they were found!
His son’s excitement at the broadening prospects of a spring-time festivity couldn’t quite be quashed or denied; and the Warden figured, if he could keep the youth close at hand, there stood a better chance of not being fumbled into too many shenanigans. Still, he was ever cautious, head on a swivel as he inspected the surroundings of the desert, then the spectacle at large.
Besides that though, Deimos couldn’t recall ever seeing hot air balloons before, and while Erebos unleashed a multitude of curious questions at his side, the Sword found himself incapable of answering all of them. More than once both of them stared and marveled, before being enticed into following the aromas of popcorn and cotton candy; though he’d have to see another get in those baskets before trying for himself.
Waving to a few others he recognized, he motioned towards the Hidden Egg Kiosk. “Want to try your luck?” Given that the lad had found it in one of Halo’s shops, perhaps it could be put to good, maybe even fortunate, use.
The youth’s excitement practically pervaded through his system, all wild energy and jubilation at the mere thought of festivities. Wholly unaware that he’d been an audience member to his father’s tournament win, albeit newborn and mostly unconscious, this was his first opportunity, besides mayhem in Halo, to be a part of such fun and glee.
“What are those?” he’d point, to a variety of objects, finger veering sharply to another subject before Deimos would even have the chance to explain. “And that!” Then it was the intoxicating aroma of fair-like foods, bristling through his nose, like a moth to a flame; the sweetened smell of constant sugar, calling cards to children the world over.
Before he could beeline anywhere towards it though, there was the matter of the egg. “Oh yeah!” Digging into his pocket, he snagged at the hand painted arrangement, and followed his father over towards the kiosk, hopeful that something could be traded or delved into.
Limbs springing, strides light, ebullience and chaos stirred beneath her veins, each movement was a pulse of frenetic wonder and excitement. Not even remotely dimmed by the past circumstances of shitty festivals, her eyes were widened with wonder. “Okay, we have to get on one,” she motioned to Iskra, already pointing towards the more colorful hot air balloons. She could imagine it being not that much different from her skyship (only slower, and she could actually steer hers), but this one was kinda sorta controlled and contorted by fire.
But then there’s cotton candy, and popcorn, and the hidden egg kiosk – and her mind whirled around moment by moment, bright grin etched on her features. “Ooh, hold on one second though,” because then she was bounding for the area, egg already in her clutches.
Melita 's a busy bee today, humming and flitting from stall to stall with a bright energy that broadens his features into easy joy. He can't blame her, the entire festival is a display of bright merriment and potential for so many delights. He wanders down the pathway with her at a steady pace, serving as an anchor to her bouncing, already certain she'd be doubling back a few times. His gaze slips over each stall with interest, lingering on the popcorn with a stare that turns his head over his shoulder as they keep going. He's definitely going back there.
Of course, the star of the show is the hot air balloons, and those continually draw his attention back, especially with each roar of flame igniting a new one up and away. "A multi-colored one," he agrees with her swiftly, already picking a choice one out of the crowd the way a betting man does his horse on the track. He's not entirely sure they get to pick, but maybe they could massage the line in such a way to end up with a favored balloon and basket.
When she pops away suddenly to a little booth, her egg in hand, he calls out after her, "hope you get something good!" He had only glanced at the kiosk from a distance, enough to ascertain it's purpose and little else, but since he's eggless he will use this opportunity to get that popcorn that he can still smell with each breath.
Iskra arrives with Melita and gets popcorn while she goes to the egg booth
ISKRA
// Sipping on the stars while we laying under sunlight //
12-04-2025, 11:00 PM (This post was last modified: 12-08-2025, 12:30 PM by Kaisel.)
Slow dancing in the living room, time stops when I'm kissing you
He's in full concentration stance now—knees bent, feet shoulder-width apart and offset, elbows tucked, head cocked, one eye pinched shut. He's already shelled out more than a few pretty pennies, and he's come so close, so he'll be damned if he's going to walk away now without that giant plush Tumsea to go home with. It's obnoxiously large, but that's half the appeal. Nevermind he'll have to tote it around all the rest of the festival, he will, in triumph, because it will have been won through money, sweat, and tears.
"I got a good feeling about this one," he informs Flora without breaking eye contact with the fan of bottles before him. There's a brightly colored ring clutched in his hand, held like he does his chakram, a few feint throws tested out with a turn of his arm. Given the nice day and the area they're in, he's just in a navy t-shirt with a cartoon raccoon on it, the kind that's textured with a different and fuzzy material from the cotton body of the shirt. It gives him perfect access to free range of movements, as does the athletic shorts and slides he has on, toes gripping the edge of the shoes for extra purchase in the battle with the bottles. "Quick!" he demands suddenly, arm whipping out towards her, offering the ring up. "Blow on it! Supposed to be lucky." Usually it's dice, but he'll take his chances.
She's a heartbreak coming in cold Trainwreck in a red dress
Everything still feels a little underwater, muffled and distant despite looking just the same as before. It's just that it's still shimmering out on the surface, while she's slipped under in a quiet drowning. No thrashing or raised hand, just the slow acceptance of sinking somewhere deep enough that air and light don't come easy.
It's rather fortunate then, that at her side is the person most equipped for handling water. Sunjata manages to convince her to be pulled from the comfort of her home. Ordinarily, a festival is a place where she'd prosper with delight over every booth, event, and crowd to watch or mingle with, but right now it all just sounds like more effort than it's worth. Rousing into motions built out of memory more than anything else, she's not good, but she's here, and that's enough.
Sporting a red sundress that barely has the straps to cling to her shoulders and sways above her knees with every faint motion, she steps up to the egg kiosk in ankle boots. Squinting from behind her sunglasses out of study rather than brightness, she regards the booth with a worn out interest. "Guess we spend eggs?" The situation's peculiar, but with better things to worry about, she just doesn't have the damn to give about the economics of lost and found chicken periods. Pulling her two eggs out of the pocket her dress' neckline makes with her chest, she offers over the pair to the stand.
Colt is turning her 2 eggs at the kiosk with Sunjata.
She's a neon nightmare Lookin' for a tab to put some trouble on ice
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
She might as well be a hot air balloon with how Nova floats into the festival. Her dress is a vibrant display of rainbow sequins that billow in the breeze, taking flight and billowing as she twirls through the stalls, giggling like a weightless puff of glitter. Her hands stretch to snag sweets and any trinkets she can get her fingers on. They nearly grab a colorful egg from a booth before she recognizes the design, a delighted gasp ripping from her chest.
Nova nearly separates from her shoes with the force of her bounce, eyes latching onto the vendor who stands there. "Are you the one who made the eggs?!" Per usual, she doesn't wait for a response before she pulls her own find from her dress pocket, pointing at the artwork painted across the sides. "I had a few suggestions - " Nova then launches into her list of advice on how to add glitter, get the colors brighter, and maybe even imbue some magic into them.
Flora lounges beside Kaisel in her jean shorts and crop top, oversized sunglasses catching the colours of the balloons drifting overhead. Her curls bounce with every shift of her weight, high ponytail swinging as she watches Kaisel line up his latest attempt like the fate of Caido hangs on a ring toss. Spice is a white blur at her ankles, chittering encouragement with all the intensity of a battlefield coach.
The oasis is sweet and dangerous, like everything she loves, but right now her focus is very much on the boy beside her and his deep, world-ending concentration on...bottle toss. The image of him—tanned arms flexing beneath the fuzzy raccoon graphic, brows drawn tight, toes curled over the edge of his slides like he’s gripping for dear life—has her fighting a grin that threatens to break into something too full of affection. She’s halfway through wondering if she could slip invisible behind the counter and just take the Tumsea for him—no one would ever know—when suddenly Kai thrusts his hand and the ring right into her face.
She blinks, exaggerated behind her lenses, then tilts her head with a crooked grin that’s pure trouble. Leaning in far too slowly to be innocent, she blows on the ring with soft, unnecessary ceremony, keeping her gaze fixed on him like she’s blessing something far more risqué. "There," she murmurs, straightening just enough for her ponytail to sway. "All charged up." Spice chirps as if seconding the blessing, hopping in place like the world’s tiniest cheerleader.
Vesper doesn’t move. He stands half-drowned in a spill of shadow that pools around his boots like something alive, the heat of the Suvahasi rippling against it without ever quite managing to burn it away. The oasis is riotous with colour and sound, balloons drifting like slow, drunken stars overhead, but none of it loosens the knot coiled low beneath his ribs. Chambray sleeves ghost against his forearms as a breeze passes; he doesn’t bother to push them down. He doesn’t need the comfort. Not right now.
Her thoughts are blurred at the edges, quiet in that way grief tends to be, and it takes nothing—absolutely nothing—for his mind to sway toward that familiar pulse before he pulls himself back. Grey Road training folds over him like a second skin, muffling presence and softening edges until he’s little more than a ripple in the corner of the eye, a suggestion of movement that no one ever follows. Especially not her. His jaw flexes once, the only betrayal of the way she looks in that red dress, shoulders bare, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion he can feel anyway. He stays still. Still is easy. Still is safe.
Nova ’s voice, on the other hand, is impossible to miss. She streaks past like a sunbeam dipped in sequins, all glitter and delight and impossible buoyancy, and Vesper’s gaze follows her automatically. Every twirl sends rainbow light scattering across the sand, catching on drifting pollen and making it shimmer like confetti. The pollen responds in kind, quivering as if tempted to burst, and he sends a thin curl of shadow outward to tamp it down before it can start a cloud that turns half the festival into hallucinating idiots. He exhales softly through his nose, a faint shimmer of constellation freckles catches light as he watches her terrorize the egg vendor with enthusiasm only Nova could weaponize.
He does not look back toward Colt, not directly. His awareness brushes the edges of the space around her instead; the line of her shoulders, the steady beat of Sunjata’s grounding presence beside her, the faint tremble beneath the surface that she’d rather die than let slip. It is all too easy to notice, too easy to want to fix, and far too dangerous for him to indulge.
So he doesn’t. He keeps the shadows curled tightly around himself, keeps his posture loose enough to read as bored, keeps his distance. He is only here for Nova and Calypso. That is what he tells himself. That is the story he will cling to.
rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
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.
"Your thoughts are still leakin' outta you, kid." Jack's voice is soft, his tone one of quiet understanding rather than chastisement, and he gives Vesper the kindness of not even glancing at him as he comes to stand a couple of feet away from the pooling shadows where the boy has hidden himself. Having forgone his coat today, the Captain stands with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his shirtsleeves rolled to the forearms, gaze on everything and nothing all at once.
Nothing particularly takes the form of Flora and her beau, Jack having very much created a black hole in his telepathic net for their thoughts, and if he's also taking full advantage of the Grey Road's perks by remaining still, then that's no bad thing either. "Y'ever seen these before?" he asks quietly, nodding towards the hot air balloons. "Nearly crashed into a bunch of 'em flyin' over."
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
high as hell, feeling fine nothing bad but nothing kind
It’s hot as fuck in the desert when he arrives with Colt, and after convincing her to go he feels like it’s probably not the best move to start complaining about the heat. So instead, Sunjata offers a bit of help with some water magic — a cool stream to ensure they always have cold water in their canteens that he’s keeping in his bag of holding.
It’s hoisted over his shoulder — shoulders completely on display with the tank top worn. A light hue to ward away some of the sun, but it leaves his dark feather tattoos exposed to soak in the heat and quite possibly an eventual tan line he’ll have to figure out how to deal with.
It is a nice change of pace from the mid back home, though. Sunglasses are worn for him as well as he follows the direction she’s looking to see the kiosk in question. He snorts a little, nodding as their trajectory takes them that way. “Maybe you’ll get something good for having two?” He flashes a lopsided smile over at her as she presents her eggs and he fishes around in his bag of holding to procure the single egg he’d kept and not offered out.
not a word from me at least nothing you would mind
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
12-06-2025, 09:55 AM (This post was last modified: 12-06-2025, 09:56 AM by Dantalion.)
open hand or closed fist would be fine
"Okay but how do they stay in the air?" Danta is wondering as they meander into the festival, his grin entirely indulgent and his eyes narrowing with interest behind his sunglasses. He's watching a particularly colourful hot air balloon as it drifts on by, having to turn his head to track it towards where it will soon be landing. "Can we ride in one?" He can see that there's fire involved, and both he and Astaroth (sort of) are able to fly now, so there's no danger in floating about in one for a while, right?
Speaking of the butcher, the Maverick is perhaps uncharacteristically clingy today, but it's the second festival in as many weeks, it feels, and the last one was memorable for all the wrong reasons. Determined to have a much more lowkey afternoon out here, Danta has tucked himself against Asta's side, an arm around his waist and a hand bedecked with rings tucked casually into the other man's pocket. It will make doing anything but strolling and standing together quite difficult, but that's a later problem.
"Oh! Eggs!" He calls out suddenly, flapping his free hand towards the kiosk and digging in the satchel slung over his shoulder for the egg he'd found up in The Climb. "Come on, you might be the richest man in Caido right now. That's how this works, right?"
// nothing is as simple, I worship, you're my temple //
“Heat, I believe.” Asta suggests, his arm looped around his lover’s shoulders as they both watch that particularly colorful hot air balloon travel toward its landing pad. And with the request to ride in one, the warm chuckle that escapes the butcher is nothing but charmed and in agreement. It couldn’t be that different from a sky ship, right? “Yes. I would like that very much, darling.” Squeezing his shoulder and shifting the bag he’d brought all the fucking eggs in, he tilts his horned head to nuzzle a gentle press to Danta’s temple.
Not having to worry about the heat and simply able to soak in the sun, the butcher’s dressed in plenty of his favorite things. The earrings Danta got for him glitter in his ears against the backdrop of the dark, shiny, straight hair of his, brushed back and tucked neatly behind the fire obsidian horns which certainly show their colors out here imbued by the sun. A cascade of warm opalescent hues dance through the tines of the antlers, looking almost less solid than they otherwise do.
The exclaim of eggs has their direction turning toward the kiosk and Asta’s immediately relieved to be rid of all of the egg~bois~ he’d been holding onto, stepping up with Danta to exchange the painted trinkets. “It certainly feels as though I am, though much of that is thanks to you.” The charm drips from his lips easily as he forks over egg after painted egg after painted egg to the vendor.
