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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!
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
As the rodeo shuts down, she lifts her head up to find Zavien, and a smile quickly replaces the concentration of cleaning. She chucks the last bit of trash into the container, then shouts something over her shoulder to Wyatt who nods back. They'll finish the rest of the clean up tomorrow, they handled the big shit for now, and they're all beat.
"Zavien!" she greets with a warm trill, breaking away to walk towards him, dusting her hands off on her chaps as she goes. "Glad you remembered," she says with a pat to his shoulder as she steps past him and waves him on to follow her towards her house. The walk isn't too far from the main arena, and she slides her hands in her back pockets for the casual stroll, shrugging off the day with a sigh.
Careful not to let her sight line travel too high, always careful about that once dusk settles, she uses her hat brim like a buffer on a horizon and focuses instead on the man beside her. "I saw your riding out there today, you really put on an impressive show this time." It's not empty praise, it's well deserved, and she imagines he'll be in need of a hot show and a stiff drink before bed. As they travel, they begin to collect dogs in various shapes and sizes. They approach in a flurry of paws and whines, licking at loose fingers and threatening to trip either of them.
Set post rodeo, pre ranch burn
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
After saying his goodbyes to the other attendees, Zavien picks his way through the scattered remains of the impressive event, Sol trotting diligently at his heels. It's not hard to find Colt. She always seems to be at the center of everything, getting her hands dirty in some fashion or another. This time appears to be garbage pickup, blonde hair gilded in faded sunlight looking unbothered by the manual labor.
He returns the smile she throws his way, patiently waiting for her to dismiss her crew and join him. Despite how she's been sifting through literal garbage, Zavien looks more worn. The long day in sweltering heat and tumbling in the dirt has turned him a darker tan, sweat mixing to form streaks across his forehead and down his cheek into the stubble there. His clothes are caked in brown, disheveled by work and baking sunlight, the colors beneath muted by the efforts of the day. And yet, his smile is bright, laughter in the green of his eyes as he says, "How could I forget?" He tips the cowboy hat atop his head, a greeting as much as a subtle acknowledgement of their agreement. "A deal's a deal, especially since you went through all the trouble." Zavien falls into stride next to her, still completely oblivious that the 'delicacy' she's prepared is for her own amusement.
His focus is instead on the dogs that begin to join them, watching fondly as Sol hops and chirps playful greetings. Whenever his hand is nuzzled or his leg is bumped, Zavien reaches down to offer friendly pats or scratches behind the ears. It could be from the jerky in his pocket, but he doesn't have enough for all of them, so he keeps it hidden away while they weave through his feet. It slows their progress, but he doesn't mind. He's not in a hurry.
Grinning at her praise, he glances up from the brindle beauty whose tail snaps like a whip from excitement. A low chuckle comes easily, a small shrug lifting at his shoulders. "I'm just glad I didn't fall straight off this time." He'd at least managed to last more than a second this time, and although the ride never turns out pretty, he hadn't fallen from any nauseating heights or earned more than a few lingering bruises. In his book, it was a marked improvement.
Zavien gives the brindle another pat and continues following on. "How come you don't ride?" he asks conversationally, throwing her a curious glance.
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
A long, hard day has a way of making people look good, in her opinion. It brings about a certain honesty to the body, because where there's exhaustion, there's less strength to prop up falsehoods, so the smiles that come are more genuine, even if they're slow and soft with the weight of the motion. The eyes are always a little more polished too, like weariness has taken off some of the jaded edges, or at least enough dirt has packed into the wrinkle lines that scrutiny doesn't land so sharp. Although she's seen Zavien at work a few times now, he's never looked better than today, utterly tossed by summer heat and rodeo dust. It's an appraisal she grants without even meaning to, her gaze trailing over him with all the same lingering assessment she gives to most.
"Oh, it's no trouble," she reassures, and she means it. The Rocky Mountain oysters don't require much. Her own stride does not break or slow as the dogs swamp them. Her focus remains intent on the house drawing ever closer, and if any paws end up under her feet, well they don't stay there for long. Zavien, on the other hand, will find himself repeatedly mobbed because like blood in shark-infested waters, they've scented that they can get pets from him on the go, which is a very exciting treat compared to pets on the porch, which is where Colt gives them.
A small laugh huffs out at his confession, and Colt tosses him another wild grin. "Nope, you fell crooked off," she teases, but soon enough shakes her head. "Practice makes perfect, yeah? And even then, sometimes it's just about luck and good timing. Do it enough and you're bound to get those eight seconds." Which is as true for life as it is bull riding.
She steps onto the porch of her house with a stamp and jig of her boots, trying to knock off as much grime as she can before she kicks them off by the door. "Oh, well I would hate to show everyone up," she croons, implying she's such a master there'd be no competition if she entered. Her smirk paints the truth plain though as she pops open her screen door and ushers him inside, tide of dogs too. "I prefer to watch something like that than be a part of it. Takes a special sort to take a risk like that, and much as I like to think I'm bold, I don't like to play around with danger if I don't have to." Most cowboys ride for the prize, or for some infamy. She has never been interested in swelling her pride, and she's less interested in gambling her body when she needs it for her every day work.
"Better question is, why did you ride?" she wonders, busying herself in the kitchen as soon as they're both in.
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
Zavien continues to do his best in giving what attention he can to the dogs, letting them jump and jostle around his feet. There's a dumb smile on his lips, treating them like kids vying for his attention. As long as a fight doesn't break out, he's happy to indulge them, and so is Sol as he bumps and sniffs like 'one of the boys.'
More laughter falls freely from his lips like sunlight across skin, catching her grin with his own. The tease doesn't encounter pride or hurt, sparking amusement instead. "Right. A slight improvement." But his head shakes at her encouragement, hand raising in gentle disagreement. "Eh. I'm not after the eight seconds." Self-improvement, sure, but not glory or the thrill of meeting an arbitrary eight seconds. Doesn't mean he'll stop riding just for the fun of it.
His boots hit wood as he ascends the stairs after Colt. He takes a moment to take in the porch, the seating, the homey exterior. Following her lead, he knocks off the loose dirt before removing them, his hands finding more dog heads along the way. Scratching behind the ear of a black and white shepherd, he casts the rancher a knowing smirk then straightens to catch the screen door with his dirt-lined hand. The second explanation is more believable than the first, the humor turning to something softer as he cautiously steps into her home after her.
Giving her the attention she deserves after such a confession, Zavien's gaze doesn't immediately stray to the surrounding space, his voice genuine and sincere. "I can understand that." Maybe his own sense of danger has been too skewed by death and dangerous situations to let a little bruising scare him, but even then, he's always been too much of an optimist to imagine the worst-case scenarios (broken necks and whatnot).
But the playful smile quickly returns, another chuckle warming her back as he adds, "I guess we should all be thankful - otherwise we wouldn't stand a chance." Colt gives him the sense of someone who wouldn't settle for second place, and she's already proven herself skilled enough on horseback. He imagined she could tame most anything.
While she busies herself in the kitchen, Zavien finally lets his eyes wander, taking in the cozy home that feels perfectly lived in - loved in. He's admiring her hat rack when the question is returned his way. He slips his own hat from his head, golden hair slick against his forehead before his hand runs through it. "To prove to myself that I could." It's blunt - honest, without boasting or pretense, and when his gaze finds Colt again, it's with the steady calm of someone who's done just that.
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
The dogs positively adopt Sol as one of their own, the youngest of them enticing the dragon to a game of tug of war as soon as they reach the porch and the rope toy is in sight. They don’t take no for much of an answer, obnoxiously flopping the half-mangled braid around, dirt and slobber smearing until it’s grabbed, whether by dragon or man.
Her home is an easy rectangle, with the front porch stepping straight into her living room, dining area and kitchen just off to the side of it, open, especially now with the island ripped out. Straight on through is her back door to a fenced in yard where some citrus trees and herbs grow. To either side, the home ends in bedrooms, one for guests, one for her. The decor is not excessive, but it’s a smattering of various paintings of horses, cattle, cowboys, or landscapes. A few skulls of bulls or antlered things adorn racks or walls, and various bits of leather work or sculpted metal and books finish off the remaining spaces.
Always charmed by someone who carries her bad jokes, she shoots him a glance that laughs with the way it shines. Cups hit the counter in her hands as she brightly asks, ”drink? No rum, got everything else.” She’s already pulling down the tequila for herself. ”Your muscles might thank you in the morning, just in case you were thinkin’ of sayin’ no,” she suggests, filling two glasses with ice.
His reason lands with a certainty she can appreciate, and her gaze finds him over her shoulder, a nod soon following, looking something like approval. ”Wish more people were in the habit of proving things to themselves.” She includes herself in people, because how many times has she been too cautious to try? More than she can count, certainly. ”You’re good people, Zavien,” she concludes, and it’s not just because he clambered atop a bull, although that certainly helps her decision. ”So what’s next for you? Got anything else to prove?”
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
Sol is happy to take on the role of challenger in their tug-of-war game, wings fluttering at his side while he growls in playful rumbles that occasionally produce a plume of smoke. At least he has the decency to avoid furniture, but his claws unknowingly threaten the rug at his feet.
Although he has no intention of declining Colt's offer for a drink, Zavien smiles at the suggestion. "I'll take beer if you've got it." He's not one for stronger liquors. Being more of a lightweight than people would expect, beers have always done the trick, so the occasional cold one after a hard training session or day of work is often a welcome indulgence.
His eyes track her across the kitchen, not even noticing that the blonde hair draping down her back is a wig. He's more attentive to the confident set of her shoulders and the radiating approval of his reasoning.
Nodding his own agreement on increasing the habit of people challenging themselves, he voices his similar determination of the rancher. "You too, Colt. Not everyone's willing to spend their afternoons helping neighbors - particularly old ones with bad hips." Zavien doesn't hide the bit of teasing humor or the quiet certainty in her own goodness, a sincerity giving his voice warmth and light despite the darkness of encroaching night.
Despite the weight of her questions, Zavien doesn't hesitate to admit with a shrug of his shoulders, "I don't know yet." He glances down at his hat, chuckling through a smile like he's found a joke embossed in the leather. "It's kind of hard to go from leading a region to - " he looks up at Colt when he gestures down at himself, irony turning his smile crooked when he finishes, "this." Not the dust and grime or the exhaustion attempting to catch his limbs, but the aimlessness beneath and the complete lack of responsibility. He's a leader without a region and a soldier without purpose, a verifiably useless sack of muscle and motivation, and although he doesn't look lost or broken, there's something untethered about the way he carries himself. His feet don't quite settle into the floorboards and his body lingers on the edge of some unseen action, like a warrior waiting for the call to arms.
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
She levels him with a look that suggests he’s chosen wrong. She’ll drink beer all day long, so will the horses, but come nightfall, something a bit stronger is always needed. After the day he’s had, shit, he needs something that’ll knock him on his ass again. She considers, just for a moment, making him a drink anyway, but she expects he won’t drink it, so it’ll just be a waste. Shaking her head faintly, she reaches for a beer instead. Can only lead the horse to water after all.
Handing over the chilled bottle, she finishes the creation of her margarita and returns his unused ice and empty glass tot heir sources. A chuckle slips free partway through at mention of Edith. ”Like I told you before, you’d be doing her every favor you could too just to avoid the alternative. That’s nothing altruistic, that’s just survival.” Could be Colt doesn’t sit well with praise, and it could be Edith has a mean stinkeye and a meaner mouth on her.
The tart kick of the margarita hits the back of her throat, puckering saliva and a corner of one eye as she swallows the sip. She considers him over the rim of her glass, giving him a proper up and down as if she hasn’t already, but given his gesture, she’s trying to find what is supposed to be so obvious. ”I think leaders can do just fine in denim,” she offers, as if his wardrobe is the only thing that could fit his complaint. The twitch at the corner of her mouth suggests she knows there’s more, but he’s already proven to be a bit stubborn and she doesn’t expect she’ll make headway by going straight at him. Like moving cattle, you have to leave room for where you want them to go and put pressure where you don’t want them to.
Abruptly, she turns around and reaches back into her icebox, withdrawing two parcels. ”C’mon this,” she says without room for argument, tossing him a bag of steaks while she hoists up her own bundle of balls. She stalks across her kitchen and bursts through the screen door, kicking it aside like a gunshot and whistling all the dogs out of the house. The ones playing with Sol growl and wrestle the rope toy and dragon into a sideways shuffle out the door. ”We’re grilling out here,” she explains a beat later, setting to the task with efficiency.
”So,” she wonders, one hand fluttering over the grill every so often to test its heat while her other swaps from drink to hip and back again. ”What’s hard about eating steaks and falling on your ass?”
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
The look has his eyebrow raising, but he doesn't change his decision. Beer has always suited him just fine, and if he drinks enough of it, it'll do exactly what the other liquors do and place him firmly on his ass. So he accepts the chilled bottle with a smirk, shrugging a shoulder as if to say, 'Don't judge me.'
Popping open the beer, his lips are on the rim when his eyes roll, a chuckle slipping out. "You can't convince me you're not a good person, Colt. I've got pretty good judgement." He tips the bottle towards her before finally taking a sip, enjoying the refreshing taste of alcohol that washes away a bit of the wear from the day, but it's not enough to make him look any different. There's still a dusty lining to his clothes and a sweaty sheen in his hair. The only change is the subtle redness to his ears that rises with Colt's assessing gaze.
He opens his mouth to correct her, to explain that Zavien doesn't mean his outfit, but he doesn't miss the twitch of her lips or the bit of humor in her eyes. Huffing a breath, he lets it go with an amused smile. "Ex-leader, but thanks."
Grateful for the shift from his appearance, he leaves behind his hat to catch the bag of steaks. They fumble momentarily in his arms, but luckily his beer doesn't spill and by the time he's got them firmly in his grasp, the screen door is already open. He shakes his head of the disorienting whirlwind of activity then follows at her heels like one of the dogs, holding the door open for Sol and the rest.
Zavien waits a moment for her to get situated before setting the steaks in their designated place next to the grill. He'd off to help, but he'd hate to poison her with his cooking and Colt looks to be in about as much need of help as a coyote with a rabbit in its jaw. It's probably best he just stays out of her way.
Laughing, he props his backside against the railing to watch her work. Her question is simple enough, and yet he doesn't have a simple answer, because there's nothing hard about a day like today. So he shrugs his shoulders. "Not knowing what to do afterwards." The admission he makes is light in spite of its uncertainties, lacking stress or anxiety about the matter. It's more blunt honesty that he doesn't shrink from or allow to darken the prospects of a good meal.
He looks out to the ranch accented by starlight, picking out vague black shapes amidst the rolling hills. "How long have you lived here?"
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
She buries his insistence on praise with a shrug and a well timed tilt of her glass. By the time she lowers it, they’re onto his outfit and how levis fare in command centers. ”I know,” she slips back with a wink, returning his ex-card with purpose. She’ll come back to that little impulse to tack that on later, for now, handfuls of meat!
When the grill gets hot enough, she unpacks the steaks and puts them on. They’d already been marinating in a brine before, so all they need is to cook. The oysters will go on last, due to their size. ”I usually get up and do it again,” she offers, turning to better face him while the meat has a while to take the heat into proper order. ”The steaks, well, that’s obvious. Girl’s gotta eat, might as well eat the good stuff.” She grins. ”As for falling on your ass, the only answer is to stand up and try not to end up there again too soon.” She tilts her glass the same time as her head, reminiscent of a shrug. ”You will though, but that’s why you keep getting back up..” Simplified, sure, but the marrow of the matter too. He’s not sure what to do, but ex sure rings like he’s on his ass still.
She tuts with a soft laugh then. ”Zavien the Risen Sun,” she chides with nearly his full government name before turning back to tend the meat with some tongs. ”Sounds like you’re trying to change the subject.” She rounds the tongs on him accusingly, peering over the line of them before softening the seriousness with a smile. ”All my life,” she says easily, happy to play a tit for tat if need be.
”What’d you do before, leading?”
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
He leans forward slightly to get a look at the marinade, raising an eyebrow as if he might be able to puzzle out the flavors before trying them. As she comments on eating the 'good stuff,' Zavien tacks on an encouraging nod of his head. "Of course," he adds before she's back on the rancher parables about dusting things off and getting back up.
Chuckling at the irony of it - as a man who's died and failed a million other ways and never stayed down - Zavien simple straightens to place a supporting hand against the railing. He lets his gaze land on her, warm and appreciative of the reminder when he raises his bottle and says, "I'm familiar with the process, but I'll do my best not to wind up there again so soon." The smirk on his face isn't the haunted look of someone reliving past struggles or dreading the next fall. The amused tilt hints more at a history she hasn't seen - a close relationship between his ass and rock bottom.
Having looked away to admire the scenery, Colt's chiding voice and use of his full title immediately bring about another wave of laughter. His hands raise innocently when faced with the threat of her marinated tongs, his smile bright enough to match. "Of course not." And he hadn't been, but he'd get to that after she tries to pin him with questions rather than grilling utensils.
Once he feels it's safe enough to do so, Zavien takes a sip of his beer, letting a bit of the heaviness wash down his throat before he answers. "I lived and breathed Stormbreak. All I cared about was what I could do for my city - for my people. Whether that was picking up trash or helping with the odd job or joining the Dragoons. I did what I could and stepped up when I needed to." His eyes drag out to where the wind ripples over grass, the smell of smoke, baked earth, and open air wafting onto the porch. It's so much different than Stormbreak, than the towering buildings and crystal clear air and bustle of people around every corner, and yet he says, "I imagine it's like you and your ranch." Shrugging his shoulders, he lets the smile fade for a moment, the smallest flicker of grief coloring the soft echo of his words. "It's all I ever knew."
When his gaze finds Colt again, it's curiosity rimmed with a sadness, wondering if she might understand what it's like when he asks, "What would you do if you didn't have a ranch to run?"
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
Life is not a kindness owed, and even fought for, it's hard to get hold of, and near impossible to keep. Anyone capable of gritting and bearing through it has surely had to learn how to stand back up, and sometimes Colt forgets that she's not the only one enduring. Not because she suspects she's the only one that's figured out how to trudge on day after day, but because it's easy for people to seem happy from the outside. Gods know she's pretending half the time herself.
"Right," she says with a scrunch of her lips into one corner of her face. "You fell last year and still got up." It's a mild tease, one that wrinkles up into her nose as she glances at him before she's back on the grill, turning the steaks. What she really means is that she knows he's just endured a hell of a thing, losing his entire region the way he did. She doesn't want to put it out in the light so cleanly though, figuring he doesn't need her reminding him of what tragedies he's been through, least of all that.
His earnest enough in his surrender that one eye narrows a fraction, scrutinizing his trustworthiness. He seems to pass, because her assessment lifts in a breath, tongs retreating. She listens as she turns the meat, fat hissing over the fire as he explains something that resonates fully with her. He catches onto it too. "Yeah," she says with a nod as she turns back around to face him, features softening fully for the first time tonight. He's lost everything, and she can't relate to what that must feel like. The ranch has good years and bad years, but it's always been here, stable and sure. It's a small world she's built up for herself, but it is an entire world here that she has, just as she assumes Stormbreak had been for him.
"I think I'd be incredibly lost," she admits after a moment of consideration. Her lower lip catches under the worry of her teeth, and her gaze parts from him for a moment to think. It's an unsettling notion, truly, and she reaches for the steadying heat of her drink as she sips it again. "I can't imagine it really," she murmurs, low and apologetic. "Although I have thought about it before a time or two, I confess. I love everything about this life, but it ain't easy." She doesn't mind hardship, but on the really long and fucked up days, the mind is prone to wander to greener pastures. "Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to hand it over to someone else and go see who I am beyond the fences. Travel a bunch, for once. Gotta stay near the home normally with this much operation running," she explains with a faint smile. "Maybe I'd go be a bartender instead, or chase the rodeo circuit from town to town. Might run a bakery, or maybe become just like Edith." She smiles faintly. "That's just dreamin' tho, nothing actual. I don't think I could ever actually leave this behind."
She imagines he felt the same about Stormbreak, and it's not wonder he's wandering a bit now. "Just as I'm sure you couldn't before..." she sighs a bit, tilting back the rest of her drink. "I trust you'll find your way again."
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
Taking the tease like a champ, he laughs a little brighter, tipping his bottle to her as if to mark a point in her favor. "More than once. But I'm still standing." Covered in dried sweat and caked in dirt - but standing, nonetheless. The picture of grit and determination propped on a porch railing in his socks.
Grateful that Colt has deemed him worthy of mercy, Zavien manages to catch the softening of her features. The barrier of humor and playful banter gives way to something genuine, a sympathy that feels less like pity and more like the respectful acknowledgement of loss and grief and unimaginable hurt. She doesn't shy from honesty or truth, having the decency to give him an answer that's considerate and thoroughly contemplated. He doesn't want her to feel the pain or depress her with thoughts of something that would likely never happen (LOL), but he appreciates how she puts in the effort to understand, to spend a moment in his boots and see the world through his eyes.
The smell of sizzling meat is a siren song to his companion, who sits eagerly at Colt's feet in hopes of a stray piece. Zavien is similarly distracted by the grilling, although he vaguely catches the draw of her lip and the steadying reliance on her own drink. His sigh joins hers in a huff of amusement, recalling the dread he used to hold, the darkness that threatened to consume him when return seemed unlikely. It feels so distant now - numb. Now the city was fractured, half of it lost to the bottom of the ocean and there's nothing he can do about it. There's no repairing that, and no 'home' to go back to. The hope he'd once cultivated and nurtured so diligently has nowhere to go - nothing to latch onto - and yet the culmination of all his fears has turned out to be less dramatic than he'd expected. The loss still hurts and he wishes it could have been prevented, but the dark despair that used to eat at him is nowhere to be found, leaving nothing but confusing uncertainty.
Shrugging his shoulders, Zavien accepts Colt's optimism with a confirming nod of his own. "I will." He smiles, chuckling so softly that it catches in the breeze like a plume of smoke when he says, "I just need to figure out which way to go first." Then it would just be a matter of setting a course and following the path, something he'd never been good at but diligently tried anyways.
He takes another sip of his beer, letting the heaviness of the topic dissipate into the growing chill of the night air. Instead, a glint forms in the shadowed green of his eyes, a teasing smirk forming on his lips when he reassures Colt, "For what it's worth, you still have plenty of time to turn out like Edith." And she wouldn't even have to leave the comfort of her ranch.
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief' They've all just been versions of uncertainty
Life is not easy or kind to anyone. Even those who appear to have an advantage of some sort, they still find their own struggles, real or otherwise. Therefore, hurting is ordinary, and she’s more than happy to offer companionship to those who would acknowledge it with the same determination to overcome it instead of being consumed by it. If change is the only constant, it means stability is never promised, and equally, that pain is not everlasting. There’s some comfort to be had in that, even if it can be flipped and means that happiness is just as likely to flee.
”Fortunately,” she drawls out with a one-shouldered shrug, ”you’ve got tonight locked down.” Grilling steak with her which is a nice last thread in her house, mirroring the first one which had been dinner with Vesper. She adds the fatty balls of meat now, the testicles they’d cut free. She’d give one to Sol if it wouldn’t send a sea of noses her way and create an argument of fairness, so she’ll leave that in Zavien’s much more neutral hands to decide, her dogs not liable to be any less wounded if they’re ignored by him, but at least he wouldn’t have to suffer their guilty looks tomorrow.
A laugh slips free, the unexpected return of the joke among the drama catching her delightfully offguard. ”Maybe you could apprentice with her,” Colt offers with an amused him, shooting him a look still sparking with humor before the grill demands more of her focus. ”Fetch some plates from inside, will you?” she suggests to him as she turns the flame off and pulls the meat off to rest. ”First cabinet on the left.”
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
Raising his beer to one less night of indecision, he flashes Colt a bright smile. "Thank the gods for little blessings." There are still a thousand more nights to account for, but this isn't one of them, and he's ready to take it one step and one night at a time. It has to eventually lead somewhere. But for tonight, he has the pleasure of good company and good food.
Her rebuttal on Edith earns another low rumble of laughter. "I think Erika might take offense if I did." There's only room for one cranky old lady in his life, and the chef claimed that title a lifetime ago.
As Colt starts shifting meat around, Sol shuffles his paws, using every begging skill he possesses to ask for something - anything - she can give him. His golden eyes are wide and round, pupils blown with desire as he lets out the softest bit of a whine. There's even an impressive pout-like structure to his reptilian jaw, a bit of drool threatening to form on his lips.
Happy to let her handle his companion until he has portions of his own to share, he hops up at her command. Setting his beer on the railing, he leans into the playful banter. His head dips, voice teasingly stiff when he says, "Yes, ma'am." Before she can throw something at his head or lecture him on manners, Zavien slips through the screen door back into the house.
'First cabinet on the left.''First cabinet on the left.''First cabinet on the left.'
The words repeat on loop as he makes his way back into the kitchen. Taking inventory of the various cabinets, he immediately finds a problem. Top or bottom? First closest to the stove or first on the end? Which way is left?
Pausing, Zavien runs a hand through his hair, wishing they had labels or something. He debates going to ask Colt for clarification but quickly dismisses the idea. There aren't that many cabinets, and if he works fast enough, she'll never notice. So he jumps to it, starting with the upper cabinet on the end to find a stack of decorative bowls. Moving to his next choice, he finds a strange contraption that he doesn't look closely at. Only on his fourth try does he find the plates, smothering the awkwardness at having properly snooped through her kitchen.
He grabs two and moves swiftly back to the door, hoping Colt hasn't noticed is prolonged absence when he grins her way. "Are we eating out here? It's a nice enough night."
Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down.
