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!
The Ark cuts down through the clouds like Torchline's prodigal son, slow, unhurried, inevitable. Her rusty sails stream starlight right up until her keel kisses the waves, until skyship becomes traditional galleon, though all who know her understand that she's no less dangerous for being in the water. It's dusk, the setting sun fringing the clouds and the waves with red and gold like blood on a knife, and if Jack wished to, he knows sailing routes that would put the sunset at their backs to make them all but invisible.
Jack doesn't wish to.
There's a strange sort of effervescence among the crew that the Captain can't recall feeling in a long time; the sort of warm relief that comes from seeing familiar shorelines after a long, long journey. This is both home and it isn't - Jack isn't moving back here, at least not right this minute (you can unclench your assholes, Hot Cetchup), but there's still a sense of return that has him feeling lighter now than in recent months.
"Bring her in," he calls over his shoulder from his place at the prow, air magic carrying his voice back towards Murphy and the crew, who act immediately on the order. Jack wouldn't normally stand and sight-see when it comes to sailing them into port, but sue him - it's been a while.
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark stands at the bow with her eyes closed as they descend, the wind, Torchline's winds sliding over her skin warm and salt-heavy, combing through the long spill of red hair at her back while the last of the clouds fall away beneath them. The shift from sky to sea moves through her like the settling of something that had been held too long aloft and when her keel finally kisses the water again she feels it deep in her bones; a quiet rightness returning as the harbour’s scent reaches them—tar, brine, rope, heat—and the satisfaction that escapes her is deep enough that it spills from her lips in a soft sigh that drifts easily out across the deck and open water alike.
For a moment she lingers there with the wind on her face, letting the warmth of it press against the open throat of her white blouse, the high leather waist of her trousers snug against her hips as the Ark settles fully into the familiar cradle of the waves. The harbour grows louder with every passing heartbeat; voices from Kaiholo Port carrying across the water, the clatter of rigging, the restless pulse of a place that has not forgotten her. Only when the crew begins to stir in earnest—lines readying, bodies moving with that particular urgency of sailors bringing a vessel home—does she turn away from the bow. Her stride across the deck is slow and easy, tall boots steady against the roll of the planks as she makes her way toward Jack.
By the time she reaches his side the harbour has begun to swell around them in earnest, and the smile that curves across her mouth is slow and luxuriant, the sort of satisfaction that lingers on the tongue rather than bursting free all at once. She lets her gaze wander over the docks and the crowded water for a moment as though reacquainting herself with something that had only ever been temporarily misplaced, and when her eyes slide back to Jack there’s a decadent sort of smugness warming them, the confidence of someone who never truly doubted the tide would turn in their favour. One brow lifts, daring and pleased all at once. "Feels good, doesn’t it?"
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
"Feels more'n just good," Jack says, voice low and satisfied as they ease into the pier, his eyes never leaving the jumble of rooftops and colourful awnings, though his arm reaches back to catch The Ark around her waist to draw her against his side. His hair has been left loose today as well, the sun-bleached tips stirring in the harbour breeze, the collar of his coat turned high against what little chill they might find rolling in from the sea. He breathes the smell of Kaiholo deep into his lungs, salt and spice, rust and timber, and as they finally draw in and drop anchor, his free hand tightens ever so slightly on the rail.
"Our good friend probably already knows we're here," he admits of the Blackfox, tilting a smirk towards the redhead at his side. "Gotta give her credit where she's due for her surveillance. But she'll be deeper in Haulani, so we'll head in once the sun properly goes to bed." Which leaves them a good couple of hours to get reacquainted with Kaiholo and all of its seedy pleasures. "C'mon. You're long overdue a stroll on your home shores."
Bassian is already helping to secure the gangplank, the big man unapologetically thrilled to be back, though the same can be said for all of The Ark's original Torchline crew. Those they picked up in King's End are less excited, naturally, but that doesn't mean they'll ever turn down some shore leave.
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
"Mm," the Ark hums in agreement as Jack’s arm slides around her waist, her body fitting there with the same easy familiarity as wind in rigging. His mention of the Blackfox earns another low hum, though the Ark’s attention drifts past his shoulder toward the docks, where the movement of Kaiholo has begun to warp around their arrival. It isn’t quite a crowd waiting for them, not openly, but the flow of people along the piers thickens in places, heads turning and bodies slowing with the unmistakable curiosity of those who’ve spotted something they hadn’t expected to see again. She tips her chin subtly in that direction, amusement warming the smug curve of her smile. "She isn’t the only one."
The words leave her lightly, carried on the harbour breeze, before Jack’s suggestion of a stroll ripples through her mind like wind skimming across calm water, playful and stirring all at once. The Ark pulls easily from his side then, already turning toward the gangplank as Bassian finishes securing it, and the smile she flashes the big man is bright enough to earn the delighted shake of his head she knows he’ll give.
Her boots carry her down the plank with an easy sway of hips and leather, but just before the dock rises to meet her, she slows, pausing for a single breath with one foot still suspended above the wood. For a heartbeat she lets herself feel it completely—the harbour air thick with salt and spice, the murmur of voices along the piers, and the quiet weight of the Ark resting proud behind her with her rust-red sails hanging high against the darkening sky—before strolling confidently forward, chin lifted and maroon hair billowing.
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
"Mm, they must think they've seen a ghost ship," Jack agrees with a smirk as he follows in her wake, hands slipping easily into his coat pockets. "Wonder how long it'll take 'fore our bein' here reaches all the wrong ears?" He'd sailed in with neither fanfare nor subtlety, and so it won't be long before royals and demigods alike know of The Ark's presence in Torchline. Her presence, yes, but not her motives, and he's sure that will land like a thorn in a paw too.
Muttering a few orders to Bassian and the crew before he also descends (mostly checks for the ship and changes in watch before they take their own leave), Jack finds himself at The Ark's shoulder just as she considers taking her first steps onto the pier. His magic buzzes with those gathered nearby, with the lingering ease of the crew behind them, with the way Torchline lays suspended in her mind like something caught in time, and when she finally walks, he's only a couple of steps behind.
Even the creak of the boards feels familiar, the Captain's shoulders relaxing beneath his coat, chin lifting a little as he considers those both pretending not to watch and openly gawking. "Anywhere take your fancy first?" he asks, his own desires coiled tight and patient deep beneath his ribs. He has to keep reminding himself that there will be time for all of it, that this isn't some quick and dirty stop at the islands before they get caught.
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark’s grin turns wolfish at Jack’s comment, though the lift of her brow is performatively innocent. "And what wrong ears would those be?" she asks lightly, the question sliding from her lips as though she hasn’t the faintest idea who he might mean, though the glint in her eyes says otherwise. If Flora and her family take issue with their return, they’re welcome to choke on the news for all she cares.
She walks easily along the pier with Jack, but when he asks where she’d like to start, she glances back at him over one shoulder, her oceanic gaze narrowing slightly as she considers it, because now that they’re actually here the possibilities rise up around her all at once. Gambling dens humming with the flash of coin, stalls along the boardwalk sending the sharp clean scent of fresh fish and rice into the air, coastal bars already spilling noise and lanternlight into the streets, even the blackened bones of the Hanged Man somewhere deeper in the city, there’s so much she’s heard about through the crew that choosing where to begin suddenly feels almost impossible.
Her attention drifts outward as they walk, the harbour pressing in with voices and music and the restless clatter of evening trade, and though the thought of watching Jack clean out a gambling table—or finding some glittering ring from a dockside jeweller to add to her collection—flickers pleasantly through her mind, it’s the sharp call of an oyster shucker somewhere down the pier that finally hooks her interest.
She grins, turning slightly as she nods toward the man with his battered pail of fresh oysters, lemon wedges, hot sauce, and salt. "I could eat." While normally she might slink her way over and charm the shucker of his entire pail, just for now, the Ark nods at the Captain, much more inclined to see Torchline bend around him like a long lost son returned, than to pull the focus to herself.
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
"I couldn't possibly say," Jack drawls, the words framed by a smirk. Her stance on things resonates through him - let them choke on it indeed - and besides which, he's much more interested in the business ears the news of their return might reach. Old rivalries and alliances he'd snapped clean on his departure, individuals cut loose who might now serve others or operate as free agents through the islands. There might yet be something to salvage here, some claim he might stake on these shores, and where the ambition in King's End felt perfunctory, like a mummer's farce of his own reputation, here it feels right.
Behind them the crew of The Ark due their shore leave are already spilling into the harbour and beyond, their voices calling greetings to those they recognise or shouting directions to a nearby tavern. Jack feels it as their minds cast free of the net of his telepathy, allowing him to refocus on the world around them and, more importantly, how the redhead at his side perceives it all.
"Yeah?" Jack smirks, following her gaze towards the oyster shucker. "Been a long time since I tasted Torchline," he agrees. Stalls elsewhere peddling the islands' fare, however good, will never beat fresh from the water.
Still, it takes them a few minutes to meander to the shucker, his pail and his modest setup of condiments. Most might have shown up to eye The Ark as a spectacle, yes, but there are a few minds that spark in Jack's magic like flint on kindling, and he pauses almost strategically as they stroll, picking up conversations as if it's been mere days rather than near enough a year. Is The Ark back for good? Is she in the harbour for long? Will there be time for a chat, a meeting, perhaps some general roughing up of some unruly sorts?
Jack has become a master of neutral expressions, but there's no denying the ease in his posture, the quiet interest in his voice, and as his arm moves back around The Ark to formally introduce her as his oldest acquaintance and most valued business partner, the gesture is casually affectionate. "Midday tomorrow at The Sand Dollar." Jack cuts the conversation short with the arranged rendezvous, and while his associates are still gawking at the siren on the Captain's arm, he finally breaks free to reach their destination.
"A dozen to split," he announces to the shucker, "unless the lady has other preferences."
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark slips easily into the conversations Jack draws them through, the shift as natural as water finding the shape of her hull. She doesn’t have the luxury of feeling his hands through timber and iron—no pressure against her rail, no weight against her boards to read the set of his thoughts—but decades beside him have taught her his currents well enough. She moves with him without hesitation, her presence at his side both inviting and carefully unreadable, ocean-coloured eyes offering nothing to the questions she can practically see turning behind the faces gathered along the pier.
And there are plenty of them.
Here in Torchline, Jack has always been a different sort of creature than the one he’d become in King’s End. There, people had kept their distance with a wary sort of respect, happy enough to profit from his dealings without getting too close to the blade. Here, though, the attention burns brighter and sharper; men who want to be him, others who’d sell their souls to drink beside him, and a few whose hands would close around a knife given half the chance. The way their gazes follow the Captain now draws a slow, jackal-bright smile across her lips, the kind that suggests she finds the whole thing deeply satisfying.
By the time they reach the oyster shucker the harbour’s noise has settled into a comfortable roar around them, and the Ark flashes the man a dazzling grin as Jack places their order. "Extra hot sauce," she adds, her voice smooth and easy as the shucker begins sliding oysters onto a sheet of newspaper already damp with brine. It’s hardly a grand presentation—just shells piled over ink-smudged paper with wedges of lemon, salt, and a bottle of hot sauce thumped down beside them—but the first oyster she lifts glistens with that clean, pale sheen that promises it’s barely been out of the water. She drowns it in hot sauce before tipping it back, letting the cool brine slide across her tongue before the burn follows it down her throat, sharp and bright and perfect.
The sound she makes at the taste is low and satisfied, indulgent enough that the shucker swallows hard while pretending not to stare. Chuckling softly, she nudges Jack toward a nearby bench with the edge of her shoulder as she reaches for another oyster, though her gaze drifts farther down the pier where a cluster of men linger in the uneven glow of a torch, their posture loose in a way that suggests their minds absolutely aren't. Not needing to nod toward them but merely imagining them in her mind, the Ark offers the oysters to Jack. "Who’re they?"
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
Jack only has to level one sharper-than-usual glance towards the oyster shucker for the man to keep his eyes on his tools and out of The Ark's cleavage, though that's honestly more because he doesn't want him to cut himself and get blood all over their meal. Extra hot sauce it is, and the Captain sets down his payment in the form of an iridescent scale from a white dragon, before following the siren towards the bench she's indicated.
"Mm?" He sinks down onto the bench as if he owns it and the ground it sits upon, also not bothering to glance in the direction of the guttering torch as The Ark paints a picture in her mind. "They," he says slowly as he adds salt and a squeeze of lemon to his oyster, "are members of a gang of petty thieves around The Fingers. They ain't big players on their own, but they get hired by 'em sometimes. Doubt they'll cause trouble, they're out on business already. Just got nosy when they saw us sail in."
He smirks around the oyster as he tips it back, discarding the shell and relaxing against the wash of bloody light from the setting sun. The cry of hels, the hum of voices and footsteps, the way his mind plugs itself back into familiar connections with all the ease of breathing, it all has him feeling steadier than he has in months. "This was a good idea," he mutters. And he's not just talking about oysters.
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark settles beside Jack with the same easy certainty he brings to the bench, and even to those wandering the pier who have no idea who the Captain is, the picture they make together carries a quiet sense of entitlement that’s difficult to miss. The way they sit there, shoulder to shoulder with the harbour unfolding around them, suggests not visitors sampling the docks but something closer to owners inspecting their own waters, the kind of belonging that doesn’t need to be explained.
She lifts another oyster to her lips as he speaks, tilting the shell just enough that a ribbon of saltwater slips into her mouth first, the bright brine blooming across her tongue before the oyster follows it down. The taste pulls a soft, pleased sound from her throat as she listens to his explanation of the men by the torch, and when he mentions The Fingers she pauses mid-reach for the next shell, her gaze sharpening slightly. "I’d like to get familiar with them." To map the tunnels, to learn to read the Thieves' Cant writ upon their walls, and to know the fastest ways to get back to the sea from within their depths.
Jack’s quiet admission that this was a good idea draws her attention back to him, and the Ark’s lips curl into a crooked smile as she inhales deeply, filling her lungs with air thick with salt and spice and the restless heat of the harbour. It tastes like home in a way that settles warmly through her chest, and when she turns her head toward him the last light of the setting sun catches in her hair until the red gleams molten against the darkening sky, like winter fire, january embers.
"I know we won’t lie to the Blackfox," she says after a moment, her voice easy as she nudges an empty shell aside, "but for everyone else..." Her eyes flick briefly toward the harbour where questions already seem to hum through the evening air. "Is it better to let them keep guessing why we're here?" Or perhaps less important is the why, as is the how long.
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
03-15-2026, 11:28 AM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2026, 11:01 AM by Jack.)
JACK
hellraiser risk taker
One arm rests casually across the back of the bench as they sit together, Jack sampling another oyster (with extra hot sauce this time) and glancing up only to watch the group of petty thieves around the torch finally take their leave. A couple of them do glance back over their shoulders enough to catch his gaze, and while he knows they'd been intending to steal a lingering look at The Ark, he appreciates the way they pick up their pace regardless.
"Mm, that'd be a fine idea," he agrees, attention dropping back to the siren at his side. "I gotta get reacquainted myself anyway. Tunnels change ownership or get flooded all the time. After near a year, bet it's a different place to what I left." They can get the lay of it together, he thinks, first by the light of day (outside if not within the tunnels) and then after dark when things are altogether more interesting.
Jack's fingers tease through the fire of her hair almost automatically as the setting sun catches on it, and his laughter is low and easy in response to her question. "Fuckin' right," he agrees. "Let the rest of Torchline wonder why we're here an' for how long, and let 'em question when we'll be back again when we leave." That, the Captain thinks, would suit him just fine. "Might be we take a few extra crew with us that we left behind last year, too."
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The thought of The Fingers curls easily through the Ark’s mind as Jack speaks, not as a map so much as a series of possibilities; tight corridors and shifting ownership, the promise of dim corners where footsteps echo just a second too long. Faces follow her there in her imagination, drawn in by the pull of her presence without quite understanding why, and she lets the image linger of them trailing after her through narrowing passages only to find Jack waiting where the light breaks, their curiosity turning sharp a moment too late. The grin that follows is slow and satisfied as she tips another oyster back, the heat of the sauce blooming after the brine.
Around them, the harbour continues to watch. Jack’s hand threading idly through her hair doesn’t go unnoticed; attention sharpens, questions catching like hooks in the wake of that simple, familiar gesture, like whether the Captain is still untethered after his very public unraveling with Torchline’s queen, whether old habits might draw him back into the darker corners of the port, whether brothels or backrooms might once again welcome him in, whether proximity might be worth the risk.
The Ark listens as Jack agrees, as he lays out the shape of it in that easy, confident way of his, and she tucks it away, letting the logic settle into place the same way she once might have adjusted to a change in current, ever the studious pupil when it came to his methods. After a moment she turns her head toward him, studying him sidelong as another oyster shell rolls lightly between her fingers before she sets it aside. Her lips purse briefly, thoughtful, before easing into something more curious than coy. "D’you think you’re too notorious to shadow me," she asks, voice low enough to belong just to them, "if I wanted to wander out alone while we’re here?" Alone, only insofar as the world was concerned, but within his telepathic net in case she found herself in the sort of trouble that being a galleon couldn't prepare her for. "Or will the gray road help to keep you out of sight?"
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
Jack's gaze has settled on the achingly familiar line of water glittering in the dying light, but behind the casual expression he tracks her imagined adventures through Rae's Fingers. He can see it morph easily enough into reality, The Ark acting as something both irresistible and dangerous to entice those who might otherwise not consider meeting with him without a fuss. A smile hooks up the corner of his mouth, and he reaches for one last oyster. "You're much more than just bait, love," he mutters after tipping back the morsel. "But I'd be stupid not to let your curves do the talkin' when everyone is so willin' to listen."
The evidence is all around them in the harbour, in the gazes that land between them, the unspoken questions and muttered remarks, the jealousy that hides behind a veil of curiosity. Speaking of curiosity though, the Captain raises an eyebrow in quiet surprise at her question, setting down the oyster shell and scoffing under his breath. "Normally I'd say I pride myself on bein' able to disappear, notorious or not," he says; between telepathy and the Grey Road, Jack can become surprisingly hard to pin down.
"Right now, though? I dunno," he says honestly. They've returned to Torchline after an abrupt departure and long absence, Jack with a gorgeous woman on his arm and dozens of eyes tracking their every movement. "I'm always up for a challenge, though. You wanna take Torchline for a stroll alone? Be my guest, love."
bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark’s smile turns sharp and jackal-bright at his words, her eyes flicking to him with a glint that borders on wicked. "I’m not just anything," she murmurs before her teeth flash in a grin. A small shrug follows, careless and unbothered. "But I don’t mind being bait." The thought settles easily into her, not as something new but as something remembered; the early days between them when she hadn’t yet become something people recognised on sight, when he’d let her drift quiet and unassuming with her sails slackened and her presence dulled just enough to invite the wrong sort of attention. Ships would close in then, greedy and unsuspecting before they ever realised their mistake, not knowing they'd been played. It had never been about weakness; it had always been about knowing exactly what would draw them close.
The Ark nods slightly as he voices the same hesitation she’d already tasted in the air around them, her gaze sliding briefly over the harbour where attention still clings in threads that haven’t quite broken. When she glances back over her shoulder, it isn’t with any effort at all that a few of those lingering eyes scatter, the weight of her look enough to remind them that staring comes with its own risks.
As for going off on her own, it isn’t that she wants to leave him behind, it’s something quieter than that, something she doesn’t bother to dress up in words. The simple, pressing curiosity of what she might be when she isn’t anchored to him in plain sight. For so long her existence had been measured in his presence and absence, in the moments he stepped aboard and the long stretches where she waited for his return, alive in a way no other hands had ever quite managed to summon.
She nods once more before rising from the bench in a smooth motion. "I’ll see you at the meeting later, then," she announces loud enough for straining ears to hear. Her fingertips trail lightly along the back of his arm as she steps past him, before she moves on, slipping back into the flow of the harbour with an easy, unhurried stride, leaving behind a wake that’s anything but subtle and which will be all too easy for a telepath to follow.
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
