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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
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 sound of Kaisel’s voice in her mind has Flora melting back into him before she can help it. For as rumbly as his voice can be aloud, it has absolutely nothing on the way it sounds when it is purred directly into her thoughts, soft and close and all the more dangerous for not needing to cross the air between them. She gives one shoulder a coy little shrug, her smile curving against his mouth as she lets the answer drift back through their bond. Well, they’re onboard the Sugartide somewhere, if you want to help me look for them. The invitation comes draped in enough suggestion that neither of them ought to pretend the cards would be the sole object of their search.
Humming as their kiss finally breaks, Flora lingers close enough that her breath still mingles with his before smiling down at him. "Come on," she says, warm with encouragement that is almost certainly not deserved. "I believe in you."
The sound of his grunt has her narrowing her eyes at once, head canting sharply in a look that would have earned a collective gasp from an audience had this been filmed on a soundstage. For a heartbeat, Flora simply stares down at him, brows raised as though he has stepped directly onto a very obvious trapdoor. Then, magnanimous as ever, she decides not to crucify her husband for the sound of exertion involved in lifting her off him, merely rolling her eyes with an affection that does nothing to hide the fact that she has noticed.
"City boy," she mutters under her breath, finally curling her fingers around his and tugging in earnest to pull him upright. The leaf stays caught between two fingers of her other hand, though she gives it a final little twirl as though it might yet testify on her behalf. "I bet you’ve never even gone camping."
my broken bones are mending
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
"I know, right?" Aithne agrees, deciding immediately that she knew she liked Knell from the start. She's relieved to find that the girl isn't so easy to manipulate that she'd be willing to eat bugs for a little protein; in her opinion, anyone who would stoop so low must be kept at arm's length.
In any case, the conversation quickly turns to the detriments of coffee, which has Aithne reconsidering her stance. Maybe Knell will figure out sooner rather than later that the benefits outweigh the risks - though considering that she seems little more than, what, seven? Eight? It's probably for the best that she doesn't consume the caffeinated beverage just yet.
The girl questions her and Aithne taps her chin. "Maybe it was those instead," she muses, thoroughly unbothered as she points to a different pastry. "Anyway, your book sounds interesting. What other plants did you learn about?"
Aithne
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.
And I can still see it all In my mind All of you, all of me Intertwined
Maea's interest in their recent escapades had Liam fighting a smile; only his partner would make such a monstrosity sound like something to be studied. But before he could assure her that there was nothing left of the creature, Nova had chimed in, and Liam contentedly allowed the women to discuss as his gaze flickered over the party.
The Ancient extended an offer to Nova to join them; Liam blinked with momentary surprise before obediently scooting to one side, tugging Maea with him to free up space on his partner's other side for the younger woman. After all, Nova was their friend - and in some ways, she almost felt younger than she was, like someone who needed some care taken. "Up to you," he rumbled as Nova hesitated. "We can make room." And sure enough, there was now enough room on Maea's other side for their young friend to join them, if she so wished.
I once believed love would be Black and white But it's golden
Liam
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Liam.
I'm homesick for somewhere that doesn't exist For someone I'm still learning to miss Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet Only see you in this silhouette
A dubious arch finds her brow as Sunjata offers up his mind in place of his library. "I never took you for such a bookworm," she remarks, a smile clipping into her voice. The mental image of all his height doing its best to bend over a text isn't humor she has any hope of besting.
The enjoyment is short-lived, the nightmare thing of the desert creeping back in, and with it, the edges of her expression grow taut. "It looked like dried trees had formed into a four-legged monstrosity. Too many eyes all over its head and front, terrible claws, long legs. It towered over a regular wagon." She grimaces at the memory of the poor caravan. "It was aggressive. It moved quickly...and wrong." Her lips purse with a pause of breath as she tries to gather the words to explain it properly. She blinks, gaze moving from the distant spot it'd found on the horizon while she glanced within, focusing back on Sunjata across from her. "It flickered, like light had a hard time finding its edges and shadows didn't work right around it. It had a glowing light in its ribs, and when injured that light spilled instead of blood. When it died, it just...poof." She makes a small motion with her hands like a miniature explosion, casting her fingers out, the edges wiggling away in trails. "Crumbled away to nothing. Nothing but a bag of sand."
She shakes her head, sighing a bit through her nose. "I know Caido has all manner of beast, and Hak Etme is wild and esolate enough, maybe things have been hiding out there no one has seen before, but...it's not like the other things I've faced before with the Wild Watch."
I'm homesick for conversations I would avoid And now I miss the sound of your voice Now there's nothing but a shadow left So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you
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 implication vibrating beneath the sultry offer is enough to give Kaisel the same sort of adrenaline spike mothers receive when their child is in danger and they go full momma bear beast mode. He could have easily bound up on the spot, even with her above him, quickly throwing her over his shoulder and heading to said Sugartide then and there. As it is, her tongue is thoroughly distracting enough that any consideration of pulling away from it, even for a greater reward as the outcome, is unthinkable. The urge lingers though, a rich ruby of building desire casting a shine against every thought and feeling that slips through the bond.
Much like the leaf, the moment Flora is off him, Kaisel is far too aware of the absence. It's not any sort of relief for it, but instead a noticeable loss—the pressure, the heat, the contact where skin had been on skin. Much like oxygen rushing in to feed a low fire the moment a door is opened, the space of her departure only serves to amplify the want she began to stir, and his body reaches out for her with his third arm.
His actual arms are also reaching, hands connecting with hers as he surges upright into her tug, making quick work of reverting back to a vertical state. It's with a sly scoff though that he does, because "I'm quite literally pitching a tent right now. I'd say I'm a camping pro." He grins with the shameless pride of any man who has found a way to make his boner into a point of conversation. Brushing the residual jungle off his ass and back the best he can with one hand, his other reaches back to steady the hammock as he attempts a more measured meeting with it this time.
"Plus, we spent the night out in the Climb, or are we calling that something else besides camping." Maybe an open-air pillow fort, or a sexy lounge. He rolls into the hammock, one arm, and his third arm, reaching out to receive her alongside him. "We should do that again though, whatever we're calling it."
It's not the devil at your door It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
As Kaisel rises, Flora’s chin tips up to follow the movement, her aqua gaze keeping him happily pinned all the way to standing. At the mention of pitching a tent, her eyes betray her for one brief, entirely incriminating second, slipping down the length of him before she catches herself. Her free hand comes up to swat lightly at his shoulder, a sharp little breath accompanying the gesture. "Kaisel," she scolds, though the reprimand is undermined completely by the pleased warmth spilling through their bond, bright enough that he’ll have no trouble recognizing how much she appreciates the terrible pun despite herself.
She gives him just enough time to settle the hammock before easing in beside him with considerably more care than either of them showed the first time around. The netting sways beneath her, and Flora shifts close before stretching one leg across his hips, arranging herself as though this is a purely practical measure intended to conceal his very obvious camping credentials from the rest of the festival. The gentle press of her leg against him says otherwise, especially when she settles into the space beside him with a little hum of satisfaction and does not move it away.
"Calling it camping might be generous," she says after putting on a thoughtful little hum, her expression narrowing as though weighing the evidence fairly. "There were, like, a hundred pillows. And you barely even made it inside because you didn’t know the password." The memory pulls a grin from her, fond and teasing, as she turns her face toward his. Her leg shifts again, entirely unhelpful in its slow slide against him, though Flora keeps her expression innocent enough to qualify as criminal.
Then she leans in and kisses him, soft and lingering rather than hungry, the sweetness of it almost worse for the heat she refuses to give voice to. Her thoughts are decidedly less restrained, glimmering through their bond with the shape of future plans and the Sugartide waiting somewhere beyond the trees, but when she finally draws back her voice is barely more than a whisper. "Absolutely we should."
my broken bones are mending
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
A chuckle escapes him with zero apology at the reprimand, entirely too smug to allow the scold to land as anything other than attractive. The stressors she puts on his name that make it tilt just so off her tongue, the shove against his shoulder that tempts him to capture her hand, the smile she does her best to hide and the unabashed glimpse of it through the bond... it's all decidedly hot.
He considers asking her about gummy worm sales so they can scamper off to the sugartide together, but by the time that idea has fully formed, gravity has already claimed him among the hammock. In the next moment, far too short of one to consider leaving a hammock, which is just as difficult as entering one, Flora sinks in against him and a bit more of the world is right again. His arm slides around her side, helping draw her to him as she nestles in, the press of her ass a perfect campsite against the tent of his pants.
He's forced to bite down on a groan that threatens escape as she wiggles herself into a better position. The splay of her leg against his hip allows him more room to tilt up into her, which he does without hesitation, his palm pressing against her naval to hold her steady against the push of him. "You're nothing if not generous," he murmurs into her neck, setting a slow kiss to her shoulder. "The pillows are non-negotiable, I thought," he muses, thinking back on the night more clearly as well, and importantly, how comfortable sleeping there had managed to be. "Or are you saying, it's only camping if it's torture?" In which case, they must be camping right now.
Friction builds by degrees as her leg shifts, and his hand extends as far as it can manage, trying to capture her thigh an hold it as she turns her face into him. Don't he warns, the deep colors of desire from before sparking brighter through the bond, become more vibrant as it doubles over itself. Her lips drown out any other thought, his hand going limp for the moment against her, too concerned with trying to capture her tongue from the midst of the much more proper and gentle kiss.
Her mind is relentless even if her mouth isn't, and this curls his fingers back tightly against her thigh. We're not gonna make it back to the sugartide if you keep teasing.
It's not the devil at your door It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
Though it’s inappropriate at best and wildly ill-advised at worst, Flora’s body has never once been especially interested in behaving sensibly where Kaisel is concerned. She wriggles again against him, not enough to pretend innocence but enough to make the point, then stretches just slightly beneath the reach of his hand so that his palm has to work harder to keep its purchase against her stomach.
"Pillows definitely are non-negotiable," she hums, as his kiss lands along the curve of her shoulder. "Though I fear we were straying more into glamping than camping." There’s a faint shrug in it, as if this is a tragic but unavoidable distinction, and she tips her head over her shoulder to try and catch the outline of him in the corner of her eye, mouth already curved around the beginning of another smile.
His warning sends a flash of garnet through the bond, hot and bright enough to make something low in her belly tighten. The restraint in his voice is nearly as intoxicating as the want itself, and Flora’s back arches by the smallest degree as she forces her tongue not to abandon all pretense of sweetness in their kiss. It would be so easy to turn fully in his arms, to feed every spark already crackling between them until there was nothing left of either of their good intentions, but she only kisses him again; slow, soft, and unbearably deliberate.
We? she whispers back through the bond, mischief slipping brightly through the arousal and affection between them. Then, before he can make too much of the word, Flora twists the ring on her finger: One instant she is there in the hammock’s loose sway, golden curls and oversized sweater and bright aqua eyes all pressed close against him, and the next, she disappears entirely.
my broken bones are mending
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Oh, I can think of a few reasons," Ronin says with a grin towards Remi as he reluctantly straightens up instead of continuing to pepper him with kisses until his plate inevitably goes toppling. Regardless, with Oria on the case (or as close to it as she can get) and Sugar circling quietly overhead, the Knight lets himself actually start to relax. He's just slipped an arm around the Bastion's waist, intent on leading him towards the cluster of chairs he'd pointed out, when Zavien's voice reaches his ears.
"Identical boys," he clarifies with a smile, shooting that same wry smile back towards his husband before trying - and failing - to also find Carlo and Calan in the crowd. (He doesn't know yet that they are in the middle of creating a dessert empire beneath one of the tablecloths, but he bets Oria will let them know the second she gets wind of it).
"They are Accepted. We learned that when they channelled themselves to a shrine and aged themselves out of the newborn stage. I do worry what that must have said about us, you know." He laughs.
"Ah, you're not that bad. Don't be so down on yourself," Carlo says with a broad grin; evidently their act of running the hell away from Finch just a week or so before is already water under whatever bridge to trouble he's started to build since. Hence his offer of the honey cake in exchange for any interesting bits and bobs that might have found their way out of other people's pockets and into Finch's, and he looks appropriately awed and dumbfounded at the coin that apparently springs out of his ear.
"How did you do that?" he asks, intrigued and rubbing behind his ear, despite the way the entire honey cake plate wobbles precariously in his remaining palm. He glances up just in time to spot his twin approaching, about to ask Calan for the password before remembering that it's only necessary when being very sneaky at foot-level under tables.
Nodding automatically - Calan covers everything Carlo had intended to before he'd become distracted by having very rich ears - he also spots the spriggan on his brother's shoulder, offering her a smile. "Hallo Oria," he chirps. "This is Finch. He's going to find something good to trade for honey cake, but you can just have some if you want."
He might only be young, but he's learned already that bribing their fathers' companions is a very good way to keep from being told on too early.
know the rules well, so you can break them effectively
"I'd never dream of calling you graceless, I'm just not sure how your height is going to compete with a hammock that already contains one me," Danta purrs, grinning up at the Butcher and continuing to swing gently with his wine - and pretty soon all of their pilfered food - in his hands. Still, the amusement freezes on his face as Astaroth actually makes his attempt, and for a second it feels as though they are going to go spinning around and be dumped right back out of the hammock.
By some miracle that doesn't happen, though as he hands back the bowl of stew Danta is left with the sudden urge to kick off a boot and try to stick his toe in Asta's ear, such is their positioning. Lucky, then, that he's saved by the Charlie. "It would be even more cozy if you jumped in to join us," he adds, because it can't be a party if they aren't testing the structural integrity of a random hammock, right?
Dantalion
// so aim it straight and true //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
06-29-2026, 10:54 AM (This post was last modified: 06-29-2026, 11:02 AM by Finch.)
Ah, so both twins are here now. Wonderful. Finch isn't sure which was the one who collided their foot with his shin/groin at this point, their two faces identically mischievous and their probably-swapped identities, but he doesn't want to find out regardless. "Hello, Oria," He says to the little tree-branch-thingy with utmost sincerity and and politeness, sweeping his lithe body into a formal bow. He hopes to make the twins giggle and/or roll his eyes with his antics, but if the spriggan could accept his flattery, he would take the advantage, no matter how leafy or whirly. Ignoring Calan's(?) awed request for his magic trick explanation, he tosses out a wink and a charlatan's grin instead
"Your dads are here?" Finch raises a curious eyebrow, scanning the room for anyone who may be looking to keep an eye on two wiggling, curious thieves with honey cakes in their sticky little fingers. He sees no one with their parental heads on swivels, so either these fathers are as negligent as Finch suspects, or utterly obtuse as to what their newborn children are up to when they're unsupervised. "Guess I'll have to keep out of their way. I wouldn't want them thinking I'm a bad influence on you." Yeah, right. If anything these two monsters were going to get him into trouble, and not the other way around. Speaking of trouble, he let his eyes wander the party for potential targets, looking to show off a smidge but still end the party with his head still happily affixed to his neck. Finch's calculating eyes snag on a handsome, wide-berthed man deep in conversation with someone, a soft smile affixed to his face. For as muscular as he is, he doesn't look like one to hold a grudge if he were to find a certain thief's fingers wandering in his pockets.
Finch looks back at Carlo and Calan (or Calan and Carlo?) and wiggles his eyebrows. "I'm coming for that honey cake," He says, eyes alighting with adrenaline and the excited fire of trickster about to pull a con. Ghosting away, he weaves and bobs soundlessly until he's right behind the man. Then, with one last wink, he crashes bodily into the man.
"Oh, Gods, I'm so sorry," Finch says, earnest and embarrassed, his face turning the beet-red of a bashful youngster. As he rights himself, his hands flicker into the man's pockets, light as air and quick as a breeze on a summer's day. The other hand rests distractingly on the study man's shoulder while Finch 'catches his balance.'
Oria trills back at Carlo in greeting, her tiny face turning toward Finch with a neutral expression on her oddly human-like face. The offer of cake does something to her dark eyes, though; they brighten as she flits from Calan’s shoulder to Carlo’s and holds out both small hands for a piece of the honeyed treasure.
"Yep," Calan says, nodding to confirm that their dads have indeed brought them, which feels like useful information for Finch to have before he does anything stupid, like pick them up by their wrists. "Our sister is here too, but she’s off with her fiiiancceee," he adds, drawing the word out in a sing-song of concentrated disgust as his nose wrinkles.
He watches Finch declare that he ought to keep clear of their dads, then watches him head in precisely the direction of the men he’s just been warned about. Calan glances at Carlo, head tilting in a silent question, before reaching out for a small piece of honey cake.
Calan is standing with Carlo, watching Zavien about to be pickpocketed!
// i came from a broken home, so look at all my broken bones count me in, but count me out, i know what this is about //
“No?” Sunjata muses, shooting Colt a grin. “I used to sneak down into my family library all the time.” He points out, a little tidbit of information from when Sunjata had been growing up. And despite all the traumas of his upbringing that he’s sure Colt’s heard stuff occasionally about, the library was similar to the cabin he’d shown her. A little bit of peace among the chaos.
But his smile falls to hear her explain the creature she’d encountered, imagining it as she describes it to be some kind of horrible beast, gnarled and twisted dried trees to make up its body, too many eyes which honestly spark a churning sensation in his stomach as he’s met with the memories of what the Infected looked like when he’d been healed. His lips purse together slightly as the hammock swings and he glances back over to her when she tells him that it poofed when it died. No remnants but a bag of sand that could do who knows what.
“It doesn’t sound like anything in King’s End. They tend to be more ghostly.” He admits with a wrinkle of his nose. “The Eyes thing reminds me of the Family, though. You’re welcome to look and see what we’ve got in the beastiary but I’m pretty confident we don’t have anything like that.” He wouldn’t stop her from doing her own research, but he’s also pretty sure he’d know if there was a big beast like that living in his region.
At least, he hopes so.
the flood
// i'm the next, so get in line just let me have my fucking time //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
