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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!
Ferried forward into the warm darkness with a wolfish smirk, Jack does indeed keep pace with Charlie as she draws him deeper into a tavern neither of them are particularly familiar with (something that will become clear all too soon). She appears in sparks of colour and curl, like the strike of a match given breath, the Captain admiring the way each ember brings her features into sharp relief; the devilish smile, the curve of her hips, the glitter in her eyes.
Raising his eyebrows as she reaches for a door only to find it latched and barring them entry, Jack is about to reach over her shoulder to give it some old fashioned encouragement, only to find himself tugged crotch-first to the next best thing. A storeroom is hardly the worst place for something like this - there's even a counter if Charlie fancies things a little more horizontal - but as she pulls him through the doorway he's already surging to meet her, like she's just taken the first step in a dance and he can finally follow.
His mouth is on hers even before he kicks the door shut with his heel, hands seizing her hips to draw her close against the hard line of his body. Jack backs them up in the darkness to the counter, lifting Charlie easily to sit upon it and barely pausing for breath before he's reaching beyond her to sweep away anything else it might have contained.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie meets him without hesitation, hands sliding up and locking around his neck the instant his mouth claims hers, fingers curling there with delighted purpose. Her kiss is quick and clever, tongue confident and practiced as it dances against his, a teasing promise rather than a demand, heat sparking between them with every breath she steals. Her mind, if he brushes it now, is a kaleidoscope; colour and warmth and possibility, centuries of knowing exactly what she enjoys and none of the burden of expectation, only the certainty that whatever comes next will be worth savouring.
Charlie moves easily against him as he guides her back, body pliant and responsive, fitting herself to his shape with instinctive ease. Petite she may be, there is nothing scarce about the curves his hands find, nothing lacking in the way she presses close, fire whispering along her skin as if encouraging him on. When he lifts her onto the counter, she laughs softly into the kiss, a breathy sound of approval, legs swinging around his waist at once as she pushes her skirt up to her mid-thighs with an unashamed roll of her hips.
Her fingers, already familiar with the state of his belt, move lower without ceremony, beginning to work deftly at the buttons of his trousers even as she keeps her mouth busy, tongue tracing slow, deliberate lines that feel very much like a preview of intentions she has no interest in keeping subtle.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
Whatever reservations Jack might have had about his dalliance with the priestess (none of them concerned with his faith to Safrin, thanks), they're burned away with a combination of hard liquor and the pulse of Charlie's thoughts like a second heartbeat nestled against his own. There's no doubt there, no undercurrent of what if or worry or youthful uncertainty, and with her eager self-assurance of the pleasure to come for them both, Jack settles between her thighs as if he was always meant to be there.
With a final flick of his tongue against her own, he draws back just enough for her to be able to unbutton his pants, a feat she'll find increasingly difficult with the firm outline of his cock already straining for release. Rather than surging forward, though, Charlie will find a warm, calloused hand against her chest and throat, pushing her back roughly enough to suggest pain whilst remaining, for now, on the right side of passion.
"I said I'd show you, didn't I?" Smirking, his free hand slips further beneath the skirt she's already hitched up, hooking around her underwear to draw them down. He follows their trajectory, mouth hot against the inside of her knee as he tugs them away and drops them to the ground.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie’s breath catches—not in fear nor in protest—but in bright, flickering surprise when he doesn’t immediately take what the space between her thighs so clearly offers. It shows in her mind like a spark hitting flint, curiosity flaring sharp and interested rather than uncertain, blue eyes lifting to him with a predatory, appraising focus as his hand presses to her chest and then higher, fingers firm at her throat. Where others might tense, Charlie leans into it instinctively, the distant edge of pain far off on a horizon she’s crossed before and would happily cross again.
Her tail coils up and over his shoulders, warm and deliberate, a living ribbon of encouragement that makes no attempt at coyness. When his mouth traces along the inside of her knee, she opens her legs for him without hesitation, granting access with a slow, permissive shift of her hips even as she shrugs out of the sweater she’s been wearing. It slips free and falls away to reveal black beneath, matching lace to the underwear now on the ground. Charlie watches him then, eyes dark and intent, mouth curved in a smile that is all confidence and invitation. One brow lifts, sharp and knowing, and she gives a small, deliberate nod.
"Go on, then," Charlie murmurs, voice low and pleased, her tail pressing gently but insistently, guiding him closer between her thighs as though the decision was never really his to make alone.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
Her mind goes off like a lightshow against his magic, flaring prettily and then dimming, only to bloom again just as the darkness grows deep enough to drown in. Already long past sober, Jack lets it flood through him without reservation, his blue eyes lifting just in time to meet Charlie's gaze from between her thighs, her tail coiled about him like he's the one caught in her web.
"My pleasure," he rumbles, and as she'll soon find out, it really, truly is. Taking a few moments to enjoy the play of lace and firelight across her curves as she tugs off her sweater, with that image - along with all the other scenarios Charlie might be imagining at that moment - branded into his mind, Jack's kisses migrate along the inside of her thigh, slow and hot and teasing.
It's suggestion enough that he might take his time with the preamble, before the Captain is suddenly sweeping forward, hooking her legs further around his shoulders to surge in and taste her heat. His tongue is as clever here as it had been against her mouth, hands guiding her hips to roll against him, leaving it to Charlie to choose how quickly she wants to come undone.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie shifts on the counter until she’s comfortable, legs settling across Jack's shoulders not for show but because it lets her feel everything more fully. She isn’t interested in being arranged like decoration if it dulls her pleasure, and once she finds the angle that suits her, she relaxes into it with a low, satisfied sound, fire whispering brighter along her skin.
Whatever she expected, it wasn’t this immediate sense of being read. For all the lovers she’s known—demi-gods, mortals, the brilliant and the clumsy alike—there is usually a moment of calibration, a slow circling until they find the rhythm that lets her really sink into it. With Jack, that hesitation barely exists; almost at once, heat coils tight along the backs of her thighs and pools low and molten in her belly, bright and insistent, drawing a sharp breath from her lips.
Her fingers slide up to her chest, pushing aside the cup of her bra just enough to catch at one nipple, pinching in time with the steady, knowing pace he sets. Pleasure crackles through her like a bonfire catching dry wood, sparks leaping and climbing higher with every breath she draws, every subtle shift of her hips that asks for more without a word. Charlie laughs softly, breathless and delighted, head tipping back as fire flares warmly at her shoulders. "I can’t wait," she murmurs, voice thick with promise and heat, "to see what you can do with more than just your tongue." Her tail tightens its coil, encouraging and possessive all at once, a demand for him to continue.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
Jack doesn't dare break from the rhythm he's set for something as arbitrary as a verbal response, but the self-satisfied hum that rumbles up in his throat is something Charlie will certainly feel. It's been longer than he'd care to admit since he's been with someone without reservations, someone so utterly devoted to their own needs, and gods it's like a high he can't stop chasing.
Meeting every roll of her hips with the circling pressure of his lips and tongue against her clit, if Charlie has worship and devotion in mind, she'll find Jack kneeling fully at the altar of her pleasure in this moment. Breathing becomes secondary to the coaxing those sparks of enjoyment to something more desperate and intense, and whilst Jack will burn if he tries to kiss fire against her very core, his own flames do lick to life against her throat and lips, as if to keep the promises his hands had made before they descended to support the good work he's doing between her thighs.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie’s breath stutters as the heat builds, the low hum against her sending a shiver through her that curls her toes and draws a sharp sound from her throat. The fire Jack brings to her skin answers something old and eager inside of her, and her body responds in kind; a trembling, gathering storm that tightens and tightens until there’s nowhere left for it to go. Her tail coils more insistently, the pressure a wordless plea as the warmth surges higher, brighter, impossible to ignore. When it finally breaks, it does so like a bonfire finding air.
Pleasure roars through her in a rush of sparks and flame, a bright, consuming bloom that floods her senses and leaves her breathless as the world narrows to heat and light. In that cresting moment, her mind flares wide and vivid, offering up the image of Dygra wreathed in living fire—not in command or judgement, but in wild, exultant approval as she had done in the old days—before the vision dissolves into warmth and colour and the echo of pleasure. The flames soften then, settling into glowing embers as Charlie comes back to herself, chest rising and falling, a satisfied smile curving her lips.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
It's a good thing that Jack is understandably preoccupied by the bliss that comes roaring out of Charlie like a solar flare; it means he forgets to recoil at the chaotic image that blooms to the forefront of her mind, both resplendent and awful in the true sense of the word. As she comes down and that image of Dygra fades from view by degrees, replaced with the warmth and satisfaction of a well-fed bonfire, he's able to sit back enough to pant for breath, the aftershocks of her climax still firing through his telepathy as though tempting him to chase it again.
It's a temptation, ultimately, that he'll give into, especially considering the way his own body is suddenly voicing its opinions - loudly - once again. But as he rises back to his feet between Charlie's legs, despite the trapped and aching length of his cock that presses insistently against her, she'll find the Captain a source of surprise once again. Whilst some men undoubtedly would have taken their job well done and proceeded to fuck her to oblivion for their own gain, Jack draws her into enough of a sitting position to kiss her again, hard and wanting, as if to test how many sparks might fly because of it.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
As sensation creeps back into her limbs, Charlie lets herself be gathered up, pliant and boneless for the span of a breath, the afterglow still humming through her like embers stirred by a careful hand. When Jack pulls her upright and kisses her again, life rushes back in a warm surge—heat blooming, breath catching—and her hands find him without thought, nails dragging through his hair and along his shoulders as she draws him closer.
There’s a pleasure in this that goes beyond the blaze itself, something attentive and deliberate; the slow art of coaxing a flame to life rather than merely striking a match. The priestess, more than used to being used as a means to pleasure and not minding it, feels it, appreciates it, answers it with a low, contented sound that curls at the back of her throat.
"I can see why they call you The Captain," she purrs against his mouth, words brushing his lips before she leans in to kiss him again, unhurried and confident. Her hips rock lightly, a teasing promise against his still-trapped erection, and her tail traces a wandering line up the outside of his thigh before nestling through one of his now empty belt loops in order to tug his pants down.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
"They call me a lot of other shit too, but it's less relevant here," Jack quips into the fraction of space between them before her mouth is on his again, stealing the wolfish smile from his lips. He can feel the decadent rise of Charlie's desire, the Captain tending it in the same way one would tend a fire that has dimmed to a smoulder. His hands are firm but never too rough, his body a hard line with just enough give to it to betray his own wants and needs, and as her hips roll into him he hisses out a quiet curse, shifting just enough to assist in shimmying out of his pants.
His lips drift to the soft column of her throat, hands dropping once more to her hips now that he's finally free of fabric and fastenings, tugging her closer to the edge of the counter. There's no need for whispered anticipation or clumsy joinings here, and Jack encourages her legs to hook around his waist at the same time as he enters her, slow and unhurried, indulgent of the feel of her slick, tight heat around him.
Humming something approving against her throat, when he draws back it's to suddenly bring her with him off the counter, drawing her more firmly down onto the hard length of his cock.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie’s fangs graze Jack's lip as she laughs, the sound dark and delighted, her breath hot between them. "Oh, I bet they do." The words curl with amusement, but her mind flashes something sharper beneath it; the knowledge that men like Jack Barclay collect insults the way others collect scars. Slurs, challenges, grudges a plenty, and threaded through all of them, was something covetous. The wanting. The need to either have him or be him, or to best him just once so they could carry the story like a trophy. She sees it clearly, that kernel of envy and desire beneath all the names, and it only makes her smile wider.
When he draws her forward, it’s seamless, with Charlie hooking her legs around his waist without thought or hesitation, body fitting to his like it's something they've done before (and she hopes to do again). When he fills the space between them she moans his name openly, the sound vibrating against his mouth as her head tips back, suspended in the feeling of him filling her. She is light in his arms, easy to lift and hold, but there is nothing insubstantial about her; not in the way her thighs tighten, skilled and deliberate, nor in how she moves with confident intent, lifting herself up off of his cock and then rolling back down with a rhythm that is entirely her own.
She moves like someone who knows her body, knows what it can do, and enjoys every second of proving it. Her tail curls and tightens, a living, teasing line of heat that tracks along him like a wayward fingertip. As she rolls her hips back, at the apex of this arc, she presses her mouth to his again, kiss deep and hungry, her tongue a slow, filthy echo of the way she moves against him.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
Again, Jack is reminded of the difference between Charlie and so many of the other quick and dirty fucks he's claimed against a tavern wall. She opens for him like something hungry and wanting, knowing intimately the way she likes to be pleasured and how to get there, and gods it makes everything so much easier that he's at risk of losing himself in her entirely. She's light enough in his arms to move without much more than his support around her hips and the backs of her thighs, a breath huffing out of him to feel her arc and roll against his every thrust.
Their lips meet and Jack's grip against her grows a little tighter, the Captain finding a bit of empty wall beside a shelf to back her up against, hips snapping into her at a pace more likely to drag out screams than moans now. Fire isn't the element that lives closes to the surface of his mind, but here and now with this living flame coiled around him, it's that very magic that sparks to life, kissing against Charlie's throat and licking between her breasts, scorching at the lace there.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
The wall meets her back hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs, and Charlie clings to Jack, arms and thighs locking tight as she resists the movement of his hips, meeting every driving motion with a fierce, hungry counter that turns the collision of their bodies into something feral and bright. The faster he moves, the more she answers, muscles coiling and uncoiling as if she’s daring him to keep up, to push harder, to lose himself with her.
Fire suddenly crawls along the shelves, licks at the edges of crates, sparks leaping free as her control frays. The room glows, pulses, breathes with them, and Charlie grits her teeth against it, fighting the instinct to let herself burn fully the way she would with another Ancient. Every surge inside her feeds the blaze, heat climbing higher and higher until it feels like she’s holding an inferno behind her ribs.
His name echoes from her again and again, louder each time, filling the small space like a ward, like a warning, like a challenge to anyone foolish enough to interrupt whatever holy catastrophe is unfolding here to see why the storage room was suddenly pulsing with ligth and heat. Her tail coils between them, spade tip rolling against her clit, adding to the friction and pressure until the tension inside her winds so tight it’s almost painful.
"Like that," she pants, voice breaking as Jack's fire crests over her. Charlie arches, pushing her upper body away from The Captain just enough to brace her hands against the wall, surrendering to the heat that finally takes her as release tears through her like a wildfire catching dry land.
Fire erupts upward, streaking across the ceiling and walls in brilliant arcs as she screams his name, body shaking, light pouring out of her in molten waves. For a moment the world is nothing but flame and sound and the echo of pleasure, until the blaze softens at last, embers drifting down as she sags against the wall, glowing and breathless and entirely undone.
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
