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!
04-25-2026, 09:35 PM (This post was last modified: 04-25-2026, 09:36 PM by Kaisel.)
Kaisel
The moment he sees her gather to sail, he lifts the hand clutching her. It's so brief it likely barely registers, but he bears the transfer of her weight as her momentum carries her across, and he brings it higher, allowing her feet to plunge with a fuller force than if she'd pounced alone. His head turns away, features scrunching against the orange, wet collar as mud flicks up like a G rated crime scene across the front of him. The splatter earns a crow of dismay that's got zero heart to it, and soon enough it breaks around a laugh as he tugs her all the way across and to him with her own willing departure from the mess. "9.2/10 puddle jump." She didn't quite get the spray up to his face, so there's room for improvement.
"I definitely don't want to be haunted by Vai after meeting her." She has been nothing but kind, but she also instilled the sense of a mother, and those are never good to have hovering about you, least of all in a spectral state. Kaisel happily ushers them along to deposit their lanterns to avoid that very fate. He catches the eye of Astaroth and Dantalion as they go, and Kaisel cheerfully waves his umbrella hand towards them, the lights and trailing tentacles flapping about.
"He looks more pissed than usual," Kaisel says out of the side of his mouth, low and just for Flora as they walk. He means Astaroth, of course, who's scowl is certainly noticeable, if not perhaps accentuated by the frame of the muzzle and the halo of darkness around this very locale and festival. It's a fine enough signal to interact with them from no closer distance than this.
And when the day broke, buried in violence Somethin' made my mind up I could do this with my eyes closed
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
Eventually, Colt finds herself warmed enough by her beverage, and the continual hum of the festival seeps into the core of her thoughts. In a snap, the music stops being so muffled and instead lands clear, as if her ears have just popped. She blinks, and her distant thoughts scatter into the more front and center task at hand. Inhaling the steam first, Colt tilts her drink up and sips, catching Thalassa's pointed expression through the dusk. Colt lifts a hand in greeting to her, then after one last glance around at her solitude, Colt shuffles back into something more than just the fringes.
"Now, does that look like they're more than just friends to you?" Colt says by way of greeting as she sidles up beside Thal. She nods her head towards the picture that Zavien and Sohalia cut, and Colt's expression gives nothing away as far as what the correct answer could be. She'd been dimly tracing the comings and goings of people, out thinking of shit beyond the party, but also in it. Sunjata, someone she wanted to speak to soon, but he seems busy with Deimos. Flora, another elbow she needed to grab hold of, but perhaps a gathering was not the best place for them, again. That left her with thinking she could at least get some work done with Zavien while here. Ask him if he was ready to come back and start working on the ship port. Now though, she hesitates. He looks more than somber, and she isn't sure what to make of the way he clings to Sohalia.
Go and fix your makeup girl, it's just a breakup Run and hide your crazy and start actin' like a lady Gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
She gives Colt a smile and lift of her head, sipping on her drink as the woman makes her way from the outskirts of the festival. The rum is warm, fighting off the encroaching chill of impending Deepfrost. It settles into her stomach with a satisfying weight, disguising the burn of alcohol with a dangerous efficiency she enjoys.
Her eyes scan to where Colt indicates, lowering her glass to peer at the couple in the shadows. She doesn't recognize either of them, but the way his arm pulls her close, her body leaning into his, there's no mistaking their familiarity - and not in the 'friends comforting friends' kind of way. Thal doesn't hesitate, tail flicking casually behind her as she moves for another sip. "Definitely more than friends."
Running her tongue over her lips and fangs to clear the bit of rum that lingers there, she raises an intrigued brow at Colt, not accusing but pointedly curious based on the glint in her eyes. "Why? He an ex of yours?" Maybe that would explain her reluctance to join the celebration, or maybe the rancher is just coming up with some people-watching game she hasn't explained yet.
you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora lets herself be pulled the last step out of the puddle, her boots dragging with a wet reluctance before releasing her with a soft, sucking sound, and she’s already opening her mouth to protest the score, brows lifting in immediate, exaggerated offence as though she’s been wronged by some grand, governing body of puddle judges, but the argument dissolves almost as quickly as it forms, laughter cutting through it as easily as the rain cuts through the canopy overhead. "Only a 9.2?" she echoes, incredulous in a way that doesn’t quite hold, her grin tipping sideways as she flicks a bit of water from her sleeve in his direction, more gesture than retaliation. "Wow, okay, I see how it is. Guess next time I’d better try bribing the judge if I want a perfect score, huh?" Her eyebrows lift and dip in a pointed, playful rhythm, the suggestion sitting just beneath the words without needing to be named, her shoulder nudging his again as if to underline it.
Her gaze flickers briefly toward where Kaisel’s attention had tilted, catching the shapes of Dantalion and Astaroth through the shifting lanternlight and deepened shadows, and she offers them an easy smile and a small lift of her chin, something light and familiar before she turns back, the amusement lingering at the edges of her mouth. "He’s going to be like that until the season ends," she says, voice pitched low enough to stay between them. "Then he’ll go right back to his big, friendly self like nothing ever happened."
The path bends them naturally toward one of the thicker, lower branches where the leaves and limbs knit together just enough to dull the impact of the rain, her steps adjusting as she reaches up with the lanterns, fingers careful despite the damp as she hooks them carefully along the branch, one after the other, each small glow settling into place until they sway together in a loose constellation of warm light. "Here," she says, plucking the umbrella from Kaisel and angling it back over him instead so that he could more easily place his own lanterns. "Go on. I don't want you to be haunted by Vai, either."
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
The pitch of scream rain rang in her ears, and she was silently grateful as Iskra just tucked her in closer, gave a squeeze through hands and fingertips. She responded in kind, leaning into him as if bracing for impact, taking a long, deep breath and glancing upwards at him with a slow smile. Some of the grin was for the notions of glitter, others for regard and appreciation, granting a little wink as Aithne granted her own delight into the measures. Her gaze whipped back to the Ancient, nose wrinkling in rampant approval. “Probably still picking it out of the workshop, at the very least,” imagining the portions of wood and timber all lined up with pockets of sparkling adornments mashed into the frameworks.
But then at all his accusations, she stood as proud as a peacock, the beam of her features wicked, impish, and delighted all at once. “It’s part of the surprise.”
In the middle of the night, in my dreams You should see the things we do, baby
Iskra has a point about the memory mud, and Aithne wrinkles her nose as she thinks back to her own efforts against the sentient muck. She hadn't been terribly effective against it (but then, she's not terribly effective against anything, yet). She still remembers the way it clung to her skin as she'd tried to pry it from surfaces and toss it aside. But that's long since past, and she shrugs. All the scream rain seems to do is annoy people, and given that that's Aithne's entire character, she can't be particularly bothered by the competition.
But the news about the surprise is welcome indeed, and her eyes light with wicked delight as Iskra regales her with the tale. "That's a neat trick," she says of Melita's invisibility, voice admiring and approving all at once. "And you seem none the worse for wear, sooooo..." she adds to Iskra, mischief in her gaze as she takes in their proximity. "I do think you might have some glitter left in your hair, though."
In the middle of the night, in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time
Aithne
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.
Lyra lingers at the periphery, strolling idly through the trees with her hands stuffed into her pockets. There are few she knows here, at least from what she can see of the crowd. Some seem to revel in the festival, while others - like Zavien and the woman with him - seem more somber. Lyra maintains a respectful distance from those who seem more impacted by the weight of death, weaving ever closer to the main event.
The festival grows louder the closer she gets to the Mathair. There are vendors offering food and trinkets, musicians striking up various chords, and no shortage of people in whom Lyra can lose herself. She makes her way to one of the food carts and stands in line, waiting patiently to order some food and a drink. Once it's in hand, she makes her way over to a fallen log nearby, perching on the toppled tree and balancing, cross-legged, as she begins to eat.
lyra
Never take advice from someone who's falling apart
Nova arrives late to the party, but has the party really started if she's not there?
As expected, she announces the addition of her presence in a flurry of glitter and beaming excitement. Her rainbow feathers shift into a pale blue cloak that flutters around her like a cyclone of color, wrapping around the energetic movement of her limbs like currents of air that might lift her to take flight at any moment. The fabric shimmers with an iridescent beauty, stitched with small dragonflies reflecting a rainbow of colors as she moves.
Nova's broad smile spreads across her face, stretching the stars on her cheeks as she takes in the myriad of lantern designs. She has a few comments and suggestions for some of them, and they all need more glitter, but she finds it pretty anyways.
Her eyes search the crowd for someone in particular as she thinks of the wreath they'd laid amongst the Mathair's branches, her blonde and pink curls flaring around her face as she scans the flow of people.
It's a thankless job, judging. Always full of complaints and push back, and whatever gratitude comes feels like a hollow attempt to curry favor. Maintaining the airs of someone well accustomed to a cranky response, Kaisel's head tilts up, as if height alone could help him rise above Flora's rebuff. "I had no idea you were such a perfectionist. 9.2 is a perfectly respectable score!" Maybe it's the .2, almost worse than a flat 9. An indication of indecision, an almost in place of something whole and true. "Oh...bribery will surely get you far in the world of puddle judging," he quickly assures her, casting a quick, furtive glance around as if checking for officials that might be listening to this potential crime.
Such a glance earns him the notice of Asta and Danta, and though he knows the seasonal effect she means, he shakes his head faintly. He seemed worse right now to Kaisel, a lost hoorah of rut and such. "Big and friendly," Kaisel repeats though, amusement curling the words off his tongue like ribbon on a present. Not the terms he might apply to the antlered ancient, or not one of them at least. "You have a green thumb for friendship. Can make it bloom anywhere." Which, obviously. She's a delight.
With the much more serious task of not being haunted at hand though, Kaisel quiets, holding the umbrella aloft for Flora as she reaches to hang her lanterns, then trading so he can do the same with his. "Y'know, it might surprise you, but this is one of my favorite holidays," he tells her as he settles back from straining on tiptoe to reach a particular branch. Dusting his hands off, he looks over their work and those of others. "I know it's maybe spookier than other things we celebrate, but this version of returning dead is the one I like. It's nice, to see people who've fallen be honored again. You can really see how even when you leave for Mort, you're still a part of everything going on. Especially old fallen heroes."
And when the day broke, buried in violence Somethin' made my mind up I could do this with my eyes closed
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
A long, lofty sigh is the only appropriate response for the two clearly delighted women. His misery the source of their revelry. Despite the unamused press of his lips, a glimmer of approval for being so thoroughly got gleams in his gaze. "It is the herpes of crafts," he moans, and as if feeling it the moment the idea is put in his head, his spare hand lifts to scratch absently at the back of his head where perhaps a small fleck of glitter does indeed tumble free.
"Don't worry, payback's a bitch, as they say." He flashes a devious, warning grin towards Melita. Although he's certain it won't daunt her in the least, and if anything he maybe just declared war, an ante she'd be sure to up, never one content to just submit to defeat, especially not when it's dealing with the strong suit of her abilities, which is simply just: fuckery. "Did you show Aithne your new cannons?" he wonders, pointedly swerving away from splintering peace treaties.
04-26-2026, 10:16 PM (This post was last modified: 04-26-2026, 10:17 PM by Colt.)
COLT
Thalassa 's agreement seals Colt's certainty. It'd nearly done so one its own, but she held out a sliver of hope that she let her thoughts stray to something silly, not trusting her inclination to begrudge someone. Although it's difficult not to turn an acute eye on Sohalia, not after feeling like the woman cut her legs out from underneath her, the last thing she'd been expecting. It leaves her wondering what else the Luminary is capable of when everyone's too busy squinting against her overly bright shine. Colt is inclined to trust things that are dull, because you can better see all the edges of them, and they aren't trying so hard to stand out amid the rest. "Mm, s'what I thought," Colt murmurs as she takes another sip of her steaming beverage.
Still watching them, assessing how this impacts Zavien, Colt's attention slips suddenly back to Thal at the implication. "Please," Colt scoffs, an immediate grin stretching out at Thal's boldness. "I don't hop on every dick I see." Colt mutters something muffled into her cup as she takes another drink, and it sounds suspiciously like mostly. "Do you not know him? That's Zavien, the Risen Sun, ex-commander of Stormbreak. He'd still be leading it, I assume, if it hadn't fallen out of the sky." Certainly a good enough set of bullet points on paper to sound worthy compared to some of the more desperate men she'd claimed for her side for a night. "He's very earnest," and therein lies some of the issue, at least for Colt's tastes. Clearly, the Luminary and the Sun get on just fine, and that makes sense to her. "He's in King's End now, and I was hoping he'd come to the desert with me, but since things went tits up with me and what looks to be his girl, I'm thinking I might not have his hands much longer."
Go and fix your makeup girl, it's just a breakup Run and hide your crazy and start actin' like a lady Gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart
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 a moment of deciding, Fern leans in towards Ever. "I'm gonna go get some food. I'll bring you back some!" The boy is over there, which had been what the decision had been about, choosing whether or not her desire to eat would win out over the desire to stay securely anonymous and safe beside her father. Instinct would always drive hunger before most other needs however, though the thoughts that plague mankind are certainly capable of upending any natural order.
She conjures up a few scenarios in her mind of how meeting him might go. Even practices under her breath some of them, ensuring her tone and the speed of her delivery will be up to the task of being accepted easily. "Hi, I'm Fern. Fern, and you? Evening, I'm Fern, you are? Wow, thanks! I'm Fern, by the way..." By the time she's close enough to say any of them though, the strength to do so has completely pulled away from her and instead she looms behind him, staring as he plays with tongs by the food table.
It happens slowly this year, the lantern lights beginning to wink out one by one on the fringes of the branches, between stalls, in the hands of people still holding them. But it doesn't take long before attendees of the festival realise the time has come, and little by little silence falls upon the proceedings. Darkness creeps down the Mathair like a cloak being drawn about her boughs, and soon the festival is little more than shadow and breath and an anxious, expectant silence.
One lantern remains burning brightly, adorned with animal shapes that appear to leap and bound and fly about their luminous container of their own accord.
The veil between the here and there parts like a curtain being drawn back, and Harper is free to step through and greet Sohalia.
Sohalia has won the Festival of Lights and Harper has come back to visit! They may feel free to start a break-off thread from the festival.
you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora’s flat look meets Kaisel’s teasing with an immediate and unyielding deadpan, but the mischief in his words doesn’t go unnoticed. She drops her gaze to his outfit, eyes deliberately moving up and down, slow and suggestive, as though she’s sizing him up in an entirely new light. "Well, that’s good to know," she drawls, the playful glint in her gaze sharpening, the corners of her mouth quirking upward in a sly grin, barely restrained from blooming into full mischief.
"With how much you hate ghosts, that’s surprising." She shakes her head, a smirk lingering just at the edges of her mouth, before she nods along with his explanation. There’s something quietly adoring in the way her lips press together, the subtle fondness reflected in her softening expression as he speaks of honouring the fallen. Her smile fades into something more introspective when he speaks of old fallen heroes. The weight of it is heavier for her than she shows, but she pushes past it quickly, a slight breath of air escaping her as she stands a little straighter. "It’s weird being here without having a lantern for Enzo," she murmurs, her voice dropping low and quiet, as though she’s speaking to the ground beneath them, before she hastily adds, "but good weird, of course."
But just as quickly as the moment passes, something colder shifts in the air. Flora’s attention snaps toward the sudden presence of Ludo. And as the herald reaches for Sohalia’s lantern for Harper, Flora's skin pales sharply, a breath pulling in as though the air itself has thickened. Without thinking, she steps closer to Kaisel, pressing herself into his side, fingers tightening around the umbrella.
