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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!
03-23-2026, 06:36 PM (This post was last modified: 04-25-2026, 06:03 PM by Odd.)
Nova
I'm not lost,
Now that they've caught up speed, Nova decides she deserves a much-needed snack. The gummies and popcorn she'd brought in her glittery bag are already long gone, but magic use is hard work and always leaves her extra hungry. Hence why she slips down into the hallways of the Ark, seeking out the scullery for any munchies she can find.
She remembers the way from her time on the ship, skipping around corners with a humming flourish of sound and color. Her green and yellow striped pineapple sweater has been freed from the confines of her pink, fuzzy jacket, leaving the googly eyes to search the dark recesses of the ship like spastic lookouts with anxiety. Most of the crew is up top working the ropes and guiding the ship towards the Greatwood, so there's not much for the pineapples to see beyond wood and more wood, but it doesn't seem to comfort the spin of their eyes.
When Nova finally reaches the door into the galley and its scullery, she blasts into the space like a detonating glitter bomb, sparkles and shimmers announcing her presence to anyone inside. Grinning like a thief gaining access to the safe, she claps her hands to see what goodies she might find.
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
The Ark can feel Nova's movements before she catches her in her eyeline; the rhythm of her steps bright and erratic against the steady pull of tide and timber, the scatter of glitter catching light where it shouldn’t, settling into seams and edges with a stubborn little shimmer that lingers just a beat too long in the Ark’s awareness. It moves through her like a ripple that refuses to smooth out, a disturbance that hums instead of settles, and she follows it easily, curious in the way a current might lean toward something warm.
By the time Nova bursts into the galley, the Ark is close behind, gathered into shape. Leather curves cleanly over her hips, high-waisted and deliberate, the white linen of her shirt untouched by the damp that clings elsewhere. Her hair spills down her back in a slow, red cascade, catching what little light filters through the space.
She leans into the doorframe with easy ownership, one shoulder braced, her presence narrowing the room in a way that has nothing to do with space and everything to do with attention. "Nova." Her voice slips into the room low and warm, drawn out just enough to feel like it’s tasting the name rather than simply speaking it, amusement threading through it in a way that doesn’t quite settle into kindness but doesn’t sharpen into anything harsher either. Her gaze lingers, unhurried, taking in the bright chaos of her entrance, the shimmer still drifting down between them.
"We haven’t been properly introduced."
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
Cupboards and containers are indiscriminately searched on Nova's quest for food. She hums brightly to herself as she rummages, deft fingers picking through anything within reach - and then some. She's standing on her tiptoes reaching for a suspiciously high box that would make a great hiding place for something delicious.
Arm outstretched, she feels the shift in the air like one perceives a slight change in temperature, unbothered and unimpressed. Her name is somewhat more interesting, her head turning with a chiming "Hm?" over her shoulder. She continues to strain for the top shelf before giving in with a slight hmph and slacking of her limbs. Narrowing her eyes at the shelf, she whips her air magic into the space to send the box flying into the air, grinning as it tumbles out and onto the floor with a sharp crack of metal on wood.
She picks it up from the floor, popping open the lid as she looks properly at the woman. Curiosity flares bright in her mind, head tilting in a distinctly feline way, eyes running over her with a prickle of familiarity. If they should know each other, then certainly they should be friends already, and Nova wiggles with eager excitement as words tumble forth. "Who are you? Are you visiting? I like your hair!"
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
The impact runs through her before the sound has even finished ringing, a sharp, jarring crack that travels clean along her bones, splintering outward through beam and board in a way that is felt rather than heard, a disruption that lingers like pressure beneath the surface. Her chin lifts a fraction, the smallest tightening at her brow betraying the path of it through her, the place where wood has been struck without care, where something careless has left its mark.
It stills there. Not ignored—never that—but held, contained, like a wave drawn back instead of allowed to break.
She watches Nova retrieve the box, watches the bright curiosity unfold across her face with that same unhurried attention, the moment stretching just slightly longer than it needs to, as though the Ark is deciding how much of herself to place into it. When she moves, it’s minimal, a shift of weight off the doorframe that feels like a current adjusting course, her mouth curving slowly, deliberately, into something sharper than before, something that shows just a hint of teeth beneath the softness of it.
"I—" The word lingers, not uncertain, but chosen, her lips parting around it as though she’s tasting the shape of the answer before offering it, the red of them deep and deliberate as the pause stretches just long enough to be felt. Then, with a quiet, satisfied tilt of her head—"—am the Ark."
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
Perhaps she should have noticed the subtle angle of the woman's chin or the ripple of tension written across her body, but Nova has a habit of noticing the things she wants and at the moment, that happens to be the box of chocolate coconut cookies she's popping open.
Her assessment of the red head is distracted by the smell of tropical sweetness, her gaze dropping down to the piling of cookies instead of the tense silence the woman creates. A delighted smile spreads across her face, pointing at each cookie as if deciding between colorful outfits instead of identical baked goods - she wonders if the chef made them. Even if Nova's eyes are elsewhere, at least the googly eyes of her sweater have fulfilled the woman's command for attention, all swinging idly to watch as she adjusts her stance.
Picking up one of the cookies in her fingers, Nova finally returns her interest to the other person in the room, tilting her head as the words start - and stop. Why did she stop? Is she nervous? Is she self-conscious about her name? What if she forgot it? Would Nova need to come up with one for her? She kind of looks like a 'Ruby' or 'Pearl' -
Luckily, she doesn't have to worry about that responsibility when the woman finally finishes her introduction. The syllables run together in her mind, trying to twist into something that makes sense rather than something familiar. "'Theearc'? That's a pretty name! I know a girl named Theea! You'd like her!" And despite the woman having said her name earlier, Nova smiles bright and shimmering as she says, "I'm Nova! Have you been here long? How do you know my dad? Do you want a cookie?" She offers out the tin as she raises one excitedly to her own lips. Obviously, she can't have all the cookies, but Nova's willing to share one with her new friend.
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
The Ark tilts her head as Nova shoves together syllables that had been intentionally kept separate. One brow lifts, slow and deliberate, her gaze settling back onto Nova with a patience that doesn’t rush. "The." The word is placed cleanly between them, unhurried and exact, her head tilting just slightly as she offers it, letting it sit long enough to be heard on its own. "Ark."
As it leaves her mouth, the ship answers: a subtle shift rolls beneath Nova’s feet, not enough to unbalance, but enough to be undeniable, the boards adjusting with a low, almost imperceptible movement that carries through the space like something stretching rather than reacting. Behind her, the cupboard she had been rifling through eases shut of its own accord, the wood settling back into place with a soft, final click.
Then, with a jackal's smile, the Ark will reach forward for one of Nova's cookies, plucking one out from the container. "Don't mind if I do."
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
'The' hits the air with such peculiarity that Nova tilts her head, looking at the woman. She's beginning to wonder if she has a speech impediment of some kind, with all the pauses and odd lack of words. Should she offer help? Maybe she's Attuned and they can talk through the bond? There's still so much she doesn't know about Theearc since she hasn't answered many of her questions.
Nova is about to launch into another barrage in hopes of getting something out of the woman when the word 'Ark' follows, clear and unmistakable. Before she can convince herself that it means something else, the floorboards adjust casually beneath her feet, the cupboard above her head closing with a soft click that she clearly hears, causing her to still as the thoughts take form just as she's taking a bite of cookie. "Wait... Like the ship? Does that mean you are the ship?!" She swears she can feel the ship smile in something identical to the one on the woman's face, the wood curving smugly around her.
Nova has so many questions.
She starts with the simplest, bouncing closer to inspect her from all angles. "How does that work?!" A gasp appears so suddenly that crumbs fall from her mouth, the thought hitting like the chime of bell. "Is that why your hair's red?!"
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
Understanding blooms across Nova’s face, and the Ark feels it the way she feels a shift in wind against her sails, subtle but undeniable, something aligning where before there had only been scatter and brightness without direction. Her mouth curves in response, slow and feline, the expression settling into place with a quiet satisfaction that needs no embellishment.
She inclines her head once, precise and certain. "Yes." It isn’t elaborated on, doesn’t need to be, the word carrying its own weight as it settles between them, as the boards beneath Nova’s feet seem just a touch more attentive for it. When Nova bounds closer, though, that ease tightens.
Not sharply, not enough to fracture the moment, but enough to be felt, a minute stilling in the Ark’s posture as crumbs spill and scatter across her floor, each one landing with a soft, irritating insistence that she tracks without moving her gaze. One brow lifts, the faintest suggestion of disapproval threading through the otherwise composed line of her expression, held there and then set aside with deliberate restraint.
"It’s why all of me is the way it is." The Ark replies, before extending her hand then, palm up, the motion unhurried, inviting without quite offering. The skin there isn’t pristine, not in the way it first appears; there are interruptions in it, faint seams and pale lines that cross and curve in patterns too deliberate to be random, freckles that cluster where no sun would favour them, marks that echo something larger, something structural. They don’t resolve easily into meaning, not without knowing what to look for, but they sit there all the same, mapped across her like a quiet confession of everything she'd endured over the years.
In the centre of her palm, saltwater gathers. It wells without source, clear and clean, a shallow pool that catches the light with a soft, shifting gleam. The air above it trembles, a faint ripple passing over the surface as though stirred by a wind that hasn’t touched the rest of the room.
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
The revelation has delight scattering through her, the bright light of her face splitting like a bursting star. "How did that happen?!" Is it possible for ships to just turn into people?! Or was it magic? Can she do that? She wants to know everything, wants to know just how far she can push the boundaries of he own abilities, wants to sprint past the supposed limitations of the world.
Bouncing in front of the Ark with cookie tin in hand, she inspects the skin presented to her, taking it in like an artist rather than a detective, considering how the lines and marks lay across her body and their design structure. She doesn't recognize the pain or the suffering that might have earned them, or how the tap of her feet might tremble across the Ark's skin. Instead, her mouth pinches in thought before curling up, a shimmer forming in her eyes when she looks up at the woman. "So... if I cover your sails in glitter, does your hair turn sparkly?!"
Then she's drawn to where water begins to pool in the Ark's hands, watching with childish glee when it ripples and sparkles in the dim lighting. She can barely contain her excitement, her body wiggling so fast that the googly eyes on her sweater swing back and forth. "Woah! You have magic too?! That's so cool!! What kinds?!" Maybe they can compare or share fun tips!
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
Delight breaks across Nova like light on open water, bright and unchecked, and the Ark lets it play there without interruption, watching the way it moves, the way it refuses to settle into anything contained. It’s an energy she recognizes in shape if not in source, something that presses forward instead of yielding, something that doesn’t yet understand the weight of what it touches.
Her smile shifts, subtle and private, as Nova’s questions tumble over themselves. "Your mother gave Jack the idea, actually." There’s a flicker of something warmer there, brief and contained, before it smooths back into something more measured. "But it was Rae who made it possible."
The mention of glitter draws her up just slightly, one red brow arching with slow, deliberate emphasis, her gaze sharpening not with anger, but with a kind of amused warning that settles far deeper than raised voices ever could. "If you cover my sails in glitter," she says, the word drawn out just enough to make it unmistakable, her tone dipping lower, smoother, edged in something that curls rather than cuts, "it’ll be the last time you step onto my deck." There’s no force behind it, no overt threat, and yet it lands with the quiet certainty of something that would not need to be repeated.
The Ark's attention shifts back to the question of magic with a small, almost dismissive lift of her shoulder, as though the answer is less interesting than the asking. "I’m not entirely sure where it ends," she admits, and there’s no hesitation in it, no discomfort, only a simple acknowledgment of scale. Her hand lifts slightly, the saltwater within it responding as though it has been waiting for the gesture, the surface stirring, deepening, answering her without resistance. "Storms are easy," she adds, almost casually, as if discussing something far less immense than it is, her fingers tilting just enough to send a faint ripple outward, the air above it shifting with the suggestion of something larger, something held back rather than absent.
Her gaze flicks briefly to the water, then back to Nova, a quiet thread of amusement returning as she lifts her hand a fraction higher. "Most of the water I create is saltwater." The water gleams in quiet confirmation before she lets it fall away, the small pool thinning, slipping back into nothing as her hand lowers once more. Her smile returns then, slower this time, edged with something coy, something that suggests far more than she’s chosen to show. "I’ve a few other tricks as well."
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
Nova's smile opens into a surprised 'o' as she listens, somewhat disappointed that she can't make people (out of objects), but glad to hear that only gods can. Still, she likes the Ark, and it seems fun that she can actually talk to her now, sharing in her love for Safrin with a small bounce and a lift of her head. "Ooh. Isn't my mom the best?"
The Ark's voice changes and this time, Nova takes note. She blinks, blue eyes innocently wide when it's made inconceivably clear that she doesn't want glitter on her sails. Her brows furrow with the tilt of her head, baffled by the rejection when she can so clearly see how amazing the Ark would look. "Why? It'd look really good on you." Chalking it up to being Jack's dull influence on the ship part of the Ark, another idea takes solid form in her mind, a gasp interjecting into the conversation. "Maybe I can make you a sparkly red dress sometime! I'm sure that would look even better!" Her eyes measure down the woman's body, taking note of curves and lengths where she'll have to cater the material.
Then they're talking about her other favorite topic: magic. Nova is captivated by the display of abilities, leaning forward to watch while she encourages the Ark in her magical ventures. "You should test it!" Taking a bite of her cookie, her eyes watch each ripple of water, debating the urge to reach out and feel the pressure building in the air over it, like intensity taking form. Just as she raises her hand, the Ark's water dissipates into the air, fading from existence.
For a moment, Nova's shoulders sag, resigned to the loss of entertainment before perking back up to know there's more. Her face illuminates the space, glimmering and bright. "Really? Like what?! Can you make fire? Illusions? Items? Or - ooh - can you make lightning like my dad?"
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
Nova’s delight rolls toward her without hesitation, bright and open in a way that doesn’t pause to consider where it lands, and this time the Ark lets her smile shift into something more genuine in response, the expression softening just enough to lose its edge without surrendering its shape. "She is," the Ark agrees, the words carrying a quiet certainty rather than exaggeration, her head inclining slightly as though in acknowledgment of something larger than the moment itself. "Safrin is the reason I can fly, as well."
There’s a flicker of something almost fond there before Nova’s next suggestion catches, and though the Ark doesn’t quite look at her the way she might have before, there’s a subtle narrowing of attention, a consideration that lingers just long enough to be noticed. "A dress," she repeats, the words slow, thoughtful, her head tilting as though she’s turning the idea over rather than dismissing it outright. The smile that follows is sharper, wolfish in a way that suggests amusement layered over something more particular. "Now that is something I would consider."
She lifts a finger then, a small, precise gesture, waggling it once in gentle warning, the movement light but unmistakable. "But nothing with sparkles that will fall onto my boards." The line holds, firm even in its ease, before she lets it dissolve back into something lighter, her attention shifting as Nova’s questions spill forward again.
At the mention of fire, her nose wrinkles faintly, a subtle recoil that carries more weight than any outright refusal. "Fire," she echoes, and there’s a quiet, almost disbelieving note in it as her head gives a small, decisive shake. "Doesn’t agree with me." There’s no elaboration needed; the implication rests easily in the wood around them, in the structure she inhabits.
The Ark inclines her head toward the deck above, the motion smooth and inviting. "We can always go above," she says, her tone shifting again, lighter now, threaded with a hint of something anticipatory. "I can show you mine, and you can show me yours." A beat—brief, but intentional—as she raises a finger once more, the warning returning with softened edges. "But still no glitter." This time, when she smiles, there’s something almost indulgent in it, the word that follows placed with deliberate care. "Please."
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Happy to be in agreement with how amazing her mom is, Nova bobs her head, shifting as easily from one topic to another like a hummingbird darting to the next flower full of delicious nectar. She breathes in the possibilities, grin brightening so much that she practically glows with excitement - with the small constraint of no glitter. Who doesn't like glitter or sparkles?
Still, Nova can put aside her disappointment in light of the opportunity to make the redhead a gorgeous dress. Maybe.
She bites her lip, looking at the finger like a line she intends to toe for the sake of fashion. "What if it's shiny but doesn't have sparkles?" Her eyes are practically pleading. She can't get over the idea that the Ark would look stunning in something that ripples and shines when hanging over her curves. It's not every day that Nova gets to make something for someone so pretty.
Nova shrugs her shoulders. She likes fire as much as the next pyromaniac, but it's not surprising that a woman made of wood might not like the element, and Nova decides to leave that for later, latching onto the proposal of showing off on the top deck. "Okay!" she chimes, a few more cookie crumbs falling from her lips as she hastens to set the tin on the table. Then she turns to the Ark and her polite request for no glitter. Her lips pucker, a smile forming around the slight disappointment before she agrees. "Fine, no glitter. But sparkles are okay, right?" She leans forward with a grin, shimmers forming the air around her as easily as breathing before vanishing back into nothing, having been nothing but illusions to begin with.
aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
The Ark watches the negotiation unfold with a slow, growing curve to her mouth, something pleased and faintly indulgent threading through the expression as Nova hovers at the edge of concession without quite stepping over it. There’s a rhythm to it she recognises, the push and pull of tide against shore, testing, retreating, returning again with a slightly different shape. "Well," she murmurs, tilting her head as though considering something far more complex than it is, though the answer settles easily enough, "that would sound perfect."
The distinction between glitter and sparkles doesn’t quite resolve itself for her, not in any meaningful way, and it shows in the faint narrowing of her eyes as she turns it over. "Nothing that’s going to linger," she decides at last, the word placed with quiet emphasis, less a rule than a boundary drawn cleanly through the space between them. When the shimmer gathers and dissolves again, her attention sharpens, following it not as spectacle but as behaviour, watching for what remains after the brightness fades. Her gaze flicks once around the room, a subtle check through wood and seam and air, and finding nothing left behind, she lets out a soft, low chuckle, the sound warm and satisfied. "That, I can live with," she allows.
The Ark turns then, already moving toward the doorway, the shift in her body mirrored faintly in the ship itself, as though the space is reorienting around her intent. The air changes as she steps out, the scent of salt and open water threading in stronger now, the enclosed warmth of the galley giving way to something broader, something alive. On deck, she draws in a breath, deeper this time, something that seems to settle through her rather than simply fill her lungs, her shoulders easing as though she’s stepped back into a truer version of herself.
When she turns back to Nova, her grin has sharpened again, bright with a kind of anticipatory mischief. "Can you do this?" Her hand lifts between them, and the air answers immediately, a sphere of saltwater gathering without a visible source. It hangs there, suspended and gleaming, its surface shifting with faint, contained currents that move without spilling, without breaking. She inclines her head toward it, then back to Nova, the invitation clear, expectant.
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
