Prompt 17: Inhuman

{ isola starter call ! || @ciphertone ! }

"Yes, yes, yes, I understand, knowledge comes at a price, my tiny mortal mind won't be able to contain it all. I'm not stupid, and I'm not new to this sort of thing, either."

He's been on both sides of the whole "cursed deal" situation, and if he can't handle himself at this point, then he deserves to go mad from whatever secrets are locked away in those tomes.

"My request is simple. I'd like to know what your organization has archived on the process of entering and leaving this dimension, and I'd like to know what my options are for using magic before my personal effects are returned to me. Now. Can you help me or not?"

{ isola starter call ! || @allhesaid ! }

Max clearly isn't the only one in this world who gets a sick sort of comfort out of watching other people suffer. He's entitled to it, as far as he's concerned; after what he's been through, it's only right that he gets to enjoy himself at someone else's expense. It's what They did to him it's what They're doing to Charlie right now and he can pass that pain along as much as he wants to, thank you very much.

(He thinks about the wave of Hounds that came three days before the completion of the portal. The fear in Wilson's eyes hadn't sparked any sort of joy that time, not like it did before. It's a lot harder to want to see someone hurt when they're sacrificing their safety to keep you alive. When they sacrificed everything to give you back your life in the first place--)

But these wannabe gladiators aren't Wilson, and Maxwell doesn't owe them a single thing. Besides, they volunteered for this, probably. All of the fun of watching people get hurt, none of the nagging guilt and regret for his past actions. What could be better!

He waves over his server, his eyes never leaving the fight.

"A Clover Club, please. Two, actually."

Maxwell knows exactly what that means; he's too ugly to show his face.

He turns up his nose at the other man, considering snapping back that his features are just fine, thank you very much, but--

He sighs.

"No, I don't object."

This... could be fun, maybe. His would-be employer is certainly polite enough to "mask" his truthful appraisal with that line about mystery, and Max has always been intrigued by intrigue itself...

"I trust you'll find something suitably dashing for me to conceal myself with. What exactly would I be expected to do once you have me all dolled up?"

Cecil's eyes scan the figure from head to toe, lingering longest on his face. It's not...beautiful in the conventional sense, but it carries its own sense of dignity.

❛ For you, more than adequate. ❜

❛ You have a good silhouette, so your strength lies in your figure. I feel that you would benefit from an air of mystery, however— ❜ Here it was, his compromise:

❛ Do you object to wearing masks? ❜

Maxwell of all people can relate. Even before the Codex Umbra was returned to him, when he was given a perfectly ordinary, perfectly useless book, he had kept the mundane tome tucked close to his heart in his inner jacket pocket as though it were the Codex itself. Familiarity can be a powerful thing.

"My offer stands. I assure you, I'm quite the expert when it comes to extracting the hidden meanings of books. So if you ever do wish to figure out why you have been given this one, you need only ask. ...but I won't be able to help if you aren't willing to let me take a look."

Maxwell drums his fingers over the cover of his own "mysterious book."

"Were you given anything else upon your arrival? Or allowed to keep anything else, I suppose I should say."

@codexvmbra

[📖] Girl held her book the way a child might keep a beloved toy close to them. It was clear she wasn't going to let anyone else get their hands on it. "I'm not sure why I have it...but I'm going to keep it." Even if she couldn't remember why it was important, she felt protective over it regardless.

"I cannot understand you."

But if nothing else, she's proven that she's listening. She's in there, aware... why doesn't she attack him? Why hadn't she dropped her light and left him to Them like he left her? It'd be no less than he deserves.

Is she showing kindness, or does he simply have her shackled too tightly for her to act on her own?

Ah-- that's it!

"My other puppets-- that-- that is to say, the-- the-- the shadows at my command, they are capable of performing tasks without my direct supervision."

His brow furrows in concentration, and he attempts to connect with her as he would his soulless summons. She must be able to do something other than stand there and stare. Communicate with him. Tell him what to do to make this right.

' It's not my fault. ,

It faces him, looming. Staring. The light glows, and where he goes, it follows with a stable form.

It has a moment of clarity, and it forms an assessment of its caller. Stressed. He's stressed.

For a moment, it thinks, managing to recall a hazy blink of its own experiences. It knows it used to feel, and that it was unpleasant . . . but what was feeling like ? What was it like to have senses ? To be human.

The shadow hums more static, thoughts evaporating as it becomes a servant again.

Then, he acknowledges her.

He asks what it wants.

He asks what she wants. The static becomes a sort of breath; not exactly communication but . . . it hopes to be a answer. She wants to tell him that anything is better than the dark. That, it knows, it does feel.

;;

let's get this show on the road with an isola plotting / starter call!

He continues to scowl at her; he knows what it would look like to the rest of the passengers, a grown man telling some poor girl to take the hit for him. Never mind that she volunteered, people tend to look down on those who aren't brave (foolish) enough to go gallivanting into trouble. So, yes, as far as he's concerned, she did call him a coward, and she can stay right there between him and the rest of these people.

Max's irritated expression slowly fades into surprise, then curiosity, then delight.

"You heard all of that?" What an observant creature she's turned out to be! And a humorous one, too; subtlety and propriety don't seem to be her strong suits.

Max grins unkindly at the couple, barely stifling a laugh at their embarrassment, then scans the train car for his new weapon's next target.

"What about those ones over there?" he says, nodding to another pair. One of the men looks sweaty and nervous, and the other looks downright terrified.

"Are they scared of the corpse, or do they have some other juicy reason to look so afraid?"

The pending murder investigation hasn't been forgotten, of course! But, well. If Maxwell's partner happens to be just as good at sniffing out shameful secrets as she is at solving mysteries, the magician is certainly going to take advantage of that fact.

Mira raises an eyebrow upon hearing his huff, unsure what she could have said to cause such a reaction from him before catching him making the comment that he isn't a coward, which makes her eyebrows knit. That wasn't what she had said, unless, the words she had spoken could be taken as such?

"....Unless words have suddenly changed their meaning, I did not call you a coward? But, I know I don't have all the meanings understood yet."

Although, she isn't sure how she can stand behind him to make sure he isn't stabbed in the back if he's keeping his back towards the wall of the train car, but she'd worry about that later as she listens to him go on what he'd do.

Then, when he's making mention of the pair near them, Mira tilts her head towards them, blinks for a moment before shaking her head.

"..No- They where arguing amongst themselves, a lovers quarrel I believe is what it's called. He's seeing his mistress or something more than she's okay with and this train ride was supposed to be time for them and he found out she's seeing another man."

Sadly, one skill she didn't have yet was tuning out conversations of others she wasn't supposed to pay attention to, so when she's just, telling him all that, the pair can only look at her wide eyed before looking extremely embarrassed and move along to the other side of the car further away.

There are many ways in which this "deal" could go awry for Maxwell; off the top of his head, he thinks that if he were to use that wording on one of his pawns, he'd ensure that they didn't "forget" him by plaguing their nightmares until they went mad. ...that would be quite fun, actually. Maybe he'll steal borrow the phrase if he ever goes back to his old ways.

For now, however, he'll live with whatever consequences come from shaking the hand outstretched to him. He's suffered through worse.

Blackened claws close around the entity's fingers and Maxwell marvels at the being's strange biology. Perhaps, if things go well, he can ask for information about his guide's home realm. It's always smart to be aware of what's out there, especially if what's out there is in the habit of dealing in forbidden knowledge.

"Is it your hope that we will discover a way out together?" That is to say, is he itching to escape?

Honestly, not what he was going to mention when the other strolled in here and started asking about magic and information, but he appreciates the straightforwardness! He loves someone with enough ambition and reckless disregard to fly directly into the sun. His lower eyelid lifts into a grin, although he doesn't move to fulfill his request quite yet.

“IF IT’S HAPPENED, I’LL HAVE SOMETHING ON IT - AND I’D BE HAPPY TO SHOW YOU! IF YOU SWEAR TOLET ME IN ON WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING. IF YOU’RE TRYING TO GET OUT OF HERE, USE ANY CRAZY MAGIC… WELL, JUST DON’T FORGET THE GUY WHO POINTED YOU IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION! DEAL?”

His hand stretches across the desk at that - sure, his deals might not technically have any power anymore, but this guy doesn't know that! Besides, he likes the gesture anyways. Feels natural, and he's not giving it up.

"For now." He's not going to set a limit on how much he drinks today; Maxwell isn't going to deny himself anything for as long as the (admittedly meager) funds he's been provided with last. It's time to celebrate!

...so why isn't his server scurrying off to help him get started?

Max turns from the fight, intending to fix the other man with a cool stare that should help motivate him to leave, but then he notices the way his server is eying his outfit.

"No. I'm here alone."

He sits up taller, straightening out his sleeves and his lapel. He doesn't blame the man for gawking; he cuts a striking figure in his suit.

Thank God he arrived in real clothes as opposed to those rags he had on in the Throneroom.

"It's custom made." Obviously. As if anyone would sell a jacket with those shoulders without it being a special request.

"Banter" has begun to achieved, as long as you count Maxwell talking solely about himself to be worthwhile conversation; it doesn't seem as though he's about to comment on the other man's taste in fashion, or on the other man period.

the fights are part of the reason will wanted to get employed at skullrender. nosy and without the ability to mind his own business, the writer finds brawls such as these fascinating. of course, watching them here sheds him of the guilt included in enjoying the occasional exchange of punches: the participants know what they're getting into, it's the main draw of the establishment.

.. that, and having a chance to meet the most interesting of people. the man that just called him over is unusually well dressed for this sort of afternoon. of course, there's nothing wrong with overdressing for any event, really - will does it all the time - but it was rarer to see in skullrender.

" oh, hi! " the notepad in his hand lifts with a smile, " and will that be all? "

will's gaze darts around, checking for anyone else wanting to order. the rest of the crowd seem to be intensely focused on the fight, so perhaps he can afford bantering for a little bit. " two, hm? are you expecting a date, mister .. ? "

he doesn't move from his spot near the stranger's table. in fact, it looks like will's waiting for something - for him to be looked at, so he may be caught non-discreetly studying the man's outfit.

Is he here to perform? He hadn't thought about it; he had simply been wandering through town, carefree, until he had found somewhere that caught his eye. Naturally, that had been somewhere with a stage.

"I don't have any of my usual gear, unfortunately..."

But he doesn't need his Codex or props to wow an audience. He's the Amazing Maxwell! All he needs is his charm and some playing cards, and he has both of those in spades.

"But as a matter of fact, yes, I think I will perform. Once you've completed your lesson, of course. Are you a professional tutor, madame?"

(Her friends go ignored for the moment, all attention on Anne.)

Maria scoots to the side when the stranger sits next to her. She's still giving him a dirty look.

Anne seems more appreciative of the new audience member. "Aw, thank you!" she says with a smile and a curtsy.

"Yep, these are my friends!" she answers for them. "Are you here to perform, or you just droppin' by?"

Maria eases up on the glaring, though she keeps her arms crossed. Pearl smiles slightly, and Umbra nods in greeting. (Mister Blue, still standing by Maria's side, simply waves his tail and snorts.)