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Character of the Season
From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
He’s been gone an almost concerning amount of time. So much so that Astaroth trudges toward the backrooms to see if he’d vanished into thin air or if something else had happened when he’d spotted Maea vanish from his typical perch in the main area of the Dusklight. So, security to investigator the butcher becomes, trudging through with the click of the cane to announce his presence.
He doesn’t knock at the door. No, instead he opens it and waltzes right in, to see the Maverick in an almost… Well, he’d say domestic sense, if it weren’t so chaotic with papers placed in varying stacks and areas that he wonders if he’s even organizing them or simply just trying to find something to do with his hands.
Clicking the door closed behind him, he leans back against it and places the cane between his feet, both hands propped on it as he scans across the room to Danta. “I can return with punching bags if you need to let out some aggression?” He suggests into the air, and while it may come off as a joke, the look in the butcher’s face suggests that he’s completely serious.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Astaroth is correct - he is trying to find something to do with his hands, and since it's too fucking cold outside to find mischief, and he's apparently a coward and a toddler and gods fucking knows what else Maea kept locked behind her teeth, Danta is doing some organising. Or rather, that's what he'll say he's doing if he's asked, but in reality it's just a lot of moving mess around. The office is an utter disaster compared to how had been when he'd started (Kiada will kill him, and so be it), and only as Astaroth's name hits the air do the Maverick's hands still for a moment.
"I," Danta begins, laughing under his breath and straightening up to look at the other man, "have been so well behaved since I took over this place, do you know that?" Tossing down a file only to smack it off the desk entirely, the Maverick lets the papers flutter to the ground as he turns to face Asta. "No murder, no fights, no public indecency, not even some petty vandalism. I have been a fucking saint."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
He may be concerned if he soberly allows himself to let the sentimentality encroach. But now is not the time, and he remains by the door briefly until Danta stills and begins to speak, watching him with dark eyes as he nods, letting his gaze drop to the file that sprawls out into a flurry of papers – not unlike the snowstorm he’s sure the Grounds is currently battling with.
Pushing off of the door, he steps further in, toward the desk in question, not even wrinkling his nose at the mess Danta makes. He cares little for it. “I have heard.” He agrees, before he stands straight in front of Danta in case he needs some hard chest to pound against for his frustration. “A saint by our standards, of course.” He pauses, tilting his head, horns casting a shadow from the firelight of the sconces on the wall. “Are you interested in changing that?” He asks, remaining a pillar, dark eyes watching the nearly frantic and clearly upset Maverick.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
It's a testament to their friendship above anything that Danta does take full advantage of Asta drawing close, but it's not so much to strike or shove at him. Instead the Maverick seizes the other man's cane so he might turn to smash at the (now empty) wine bottle on his desk, sending it shattering in a spray of glass against one wall. "Oh, very much so," he all but whispers, grip white knuckled on the weapon.
"Unfortunately, you might have noticed that it's fucking Deepfrost out there." And Danta, having been in the middle of a good old fashioned party before Maea's interruption, is hardly dressed to go out into a gods damned snowstorm. (There's more glitter than fabric on him, put it that way).
Thrusting the cane back at Asta and raking his fingers back through his hair, the Maverick hisses in a long breath and forces it out again. "I dismissed Maea as Ambassador," he says curtly and with surprising calm. "I'm not sorry about it."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
The cane is easily offered up, and he watches with a quiet delight as the glass shatters into a million pieces. He’s content to let the Maverick keep the cane for however long he needs at present to loosen the tension, even as he sighs a bit dramatically to hear the complaint. “It is. However, the Last Whisper is warm from the bonfire that you built for us. And I can be quite a phenomenal herding canine when need be.” Cocking his head the other way, he shakes his head as the cane is thrust back at him, hands warm as he waits for the Maverick’s hands to lower so he can give it back.
Dark brows raise to hear that it had escalated that far, though, given their conversation the night of. “What did she say?” He asks, because something had to have happened and been said for it to have escalated that high. And patiently, the butcher waits, shifting to rest his hip against the desk where glass bites into the fabric.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"It's too close," Danta hisses, accepting the cane right back and wondering where in his office he might put it to good use, before Asta is asking what happened and the Maverick is left trying to find the words. Nothing, he wants to snap, while simultaneously wanting to tell him all of it and then some. Eventually, and with a snarl of frustration, he slouches back against the edge of the desk beside the other man, both hands clasping the top of the cane.
"At which point? When she accused me of cowardice for not wanting to die to Dahlia, or when she assumed I buried my head in the sand about all of this because it wasn't the time for a fight?" He scoffs. "Oh, or when she called this place a cage? Or said it wasn't a life worth living, to choose to bend rather than break?" That had been the kicker, in truth.
Having lived his life under the thumb for years, Danta is not above admitting that it had touched a nerve.
But only to Asta.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“I can hide it.” He drawls with a certain certainty that might have Danta question what he gets up to in the dark hours of the night. But as it stands, the Maverick wars with himself over whether or not to say what happened and Astaroth is nothing but patient to listen for whatever decision is made. If he didn’t wish to tell him, the butcher wouldn’t push it. But he is pleased to hear the vent when it occurs, at least until the end when his nose wrinkles and his brows pinch, and any trace of a charming sharp smile is gone.
Clearing his throat, he tries to figure out where to fucking start. “She has harbored concerns that keeping the Last Whisper safe from those dreadful creatures would simply be a barrier of sorts as she had when she grew up.” It isn’t an excuse nor an explanation, but something that she had mentioned previously regarding cages. But to say it to someone like the blonde beside him, that’s where it ticks a nerve for the butcher, too. “However, she does not know you well enough to know that despite how she may view you, that is the last thing you would do.” He muses, shaking his head. “Her stubbornness may get her killed again.” Not by them, but by the recklessness with which she plays with her life.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Whatever Asta gets up to in the small hours is his business at this point - whatever deal they made when he first arrived at the Dusklight has long begun to fray, and now more than ever the Maverick is likely to look the other way. It isn't like he has Maea around to keep things to a certain standard now either, is it? "Last I checked, you could come and go from the Inner Quarter as you pleased, just as you could before Dygra's shield." He rolls his eyes.
As for the rest, Danta grumbles out a sigh and offers the cane back to Asta, clearly no longer in the mood to smash up his office. "She certainly does not," he agrees softly, to knowing him well enough. Or at all. And now it's more than likely that she never will. "If it does it's her own problem. At least she can't drag anyone else back into danger," he mutters.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Indeed you can.” Astaroth agrees, taking the cane back and hooks it onto the edge of the desk that he leans against. “I assume she believes that the void will make it impossible to step past it.” But they have Dygra to help, a goddess that the two of them are fully devoted to, being her chaotic children in blood and entropy.
But either way, Danta deflates and Astaroth reaches over to brush some of the glitter from the Maverick’s shoulders, cascading it down onto himself with a wrinkle of his nose because he knows it’s never going to come back out again. “Let her stew and be angry. She was the one that started it.” He shrugs casually, trying to flick a particular piece of glitter off of his fingers. “It is nothing on you, darling. As far as I am concerned, you have been doing brilliant things for us.” Us as in the Ancients in the Grounds.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Then it sounds as if she should be fighting the void, not Dahlia in the middle of a room with only one fucking exit," Danta snips, scowling at the mess he's made, though of course none of it is personal towards Asta. Rolling his shoulders as if it will disperse the tension there, the Maverick wonders whether Charlie will be able to arrange some violent sex-blood-moon-hunt-thing for him to take his anger out on before the season is through. It's worth asking, at least.
As Asta reaches out to fuss him and receives only a coating of glitter for his trouble, that at least does earn a snort of laughter, Danta raising his eyebrows at the other man as if to say serves you right. Letting his shoulders sag a bit, he rubs at his eyes and shrugs. "Ah, that shit doesn't bother me so much," he admits. People can think what they like, so long as they respect reality when it counts.
"Just brought a lot of shit back up I'd rather not be thinking about, that's all."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Mm, agreed.” Astaroth hums. And should Danta ask whether or not Charlie makes a moonlight blood hunt the perfect thing one might need? The butcher can confidently confirm that she’s brilliant and he adores her immensely for indulging with him on such a beautiful hunt. But he doesn’t, and Astaroth keeps his mouth shut, unable to truly be a mind reader.
Instead, he gets glitter all over his fingers and himself for his trouble, snorting as Danta laughs and Astaroth shakes his head a little. ‘That is fair.” Asta hums, sighing when he can’t rid himself of the contagious glitter and instead lets his hand fall into his lap. “She hit a nerve.” Shrugging lightly he sighs and wrinkles his nose before being very much like a cat and starts to nudge a pen holder toward the edge of the desk, letting his dark gaze focus on that. “What may help take your mind off of it?” Smashing some more things, hunting, blood, drinking, fucking, the list goes on and on.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
She did hit a nerve, and now Danta feels as much caged in his office as Maea had said he would, something that has the Maverick seething to say the least. At least he's calmer than Asta had initially found him, though as he spots the pen holder creeping towards the edge of the desk out of the corner of his eye, he can do little more than smirk at it and wait for the satisfying clatter of it hitting the ground.
"I think," he says slowly, considering his options and kicking a bit of paper that has landed on his shoe, "I need to fly." He says it almost apologetically, because the other man will know precisely what it entails. "I don't expect you to go anywhere with me, of course. If you can hold the fort here, though... I'll come and find you when I'm done."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Asta is absolutely intending on sending that pen holder clattering to the floor – Kiada can chew him out later about it. He cares little so long as he can get the Theocrat to feel better. But, it seems it isn’t his own abilities that can help, but the ones lingering under the skin, because no sooner does the pen clatter to the floor and send them spiraling and rolling all over the office, does Astaroth snort and lift his attention to the Maverick when he speaks.
He does know precisely what flight means, and he knows that he’ll be less than helpful in joining him on the endeavor. But he’s offered the opportunity to get out of it, to which he inclines his head gratefully. “Consider the fort… held?” He murmurs, standing to straighten up and collect the cane, but not before he reaches out to lift Danta’s head, pressing his forehead to the other man’s, before he withdraws. “Hunt something fun for me, darling.”
Perhaps it means that when the Maverick returns, the butcher will have the perfect gift upon his return, prepped and ready.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
The chaotic spill of pens onto the ground does draw something of a satisfied smile to Danta's lips, but by this point the need to shift, to spread great dark wings and spy on the world from on high is almost overwhelming. And blessedly the butcher understands, Danta inclining his head to him as the other man rises to his feet. "Don't do anything I wouldn't," he offers softly in response, eyes closing at the brief touch between them, before Asta draws away again.
He waits until he's gone, at least, before exiting the office himself and shrugging into a coat that doesn't belong to him. It's just something to keep the cold off, Danta soon slipping out into The Last Whisper and waiting - impatiently, but waiting - until he's clear of it until he trades long legs for great, dark wings.
And whilst Asta might not consider the prey of corvids particularly fun, the Maverick has a delightful time engaging in his instincts, picking apart mice and smaller birds and even snatching up a squirrel or two on the wing. It means, when he returns an hour or so later, that he's still remarkably clean of blood other than a few speckles on his cheek and against his knuckles, and the cold all but rolls off him as he re-enters the Dusklight in search of a warm drink and a familiar face.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
