{ Isola Starter Call ! || @hewillnevervisit !}

create something in my workshop.

a necklace.

bit by bit, you’ve crafted a beautiful piece of jewelry, one that gleams in the sun and glitters in the low light, one that draws attention and admiration and glowing words. you step out into the world and the world turns to you. eyes are caught by the shimmer. hands reach out to touch. gasps fall from mouths at the very sight of you. you feel like the center of the world until you realize that what people are really looking at is the necklace. you haven’t made eye contact with another person in weeks. this thing that you’ve made is gorgeous. it should be a point of pride for you, a a glow of achievement over your chest. with it glimmering across your collarbones, nobody has even noticed that you’re there.

"This is ridiculous!" Maxwell gripes, looming over the star-speckled girl to stare down at the corpse. "We can't even take a train in this blasted place without fearing for our lives?"

Not the first time death has set its hand on your shoulder in the compartment of a train, is it, Mr. Carter?

"That's it. I refuse to spend the rest of this trip looking over my shoulder waiting for a knife in my back. I suggest that the one responsible reveal themself now."

He raises his (perfectly average, perfectly powerless) book threateningly, fixing a cold glare on each of the other gathered guests.

Unsurprisingly, no one steps forward.

Then all hell breaks loose. Accusations fly, worried murmurings spread, weapons are raised and doors are locked. Some self-proclaimed investigator makes the tired-out suggestion that everyone pair up for safety, and before Maxwell can slip out to lock himself far, far away from all of this idiocy, he's paired off with the person closest to him-- the girl.

"...this won't prevent either of us from being murdered, so for your sake, I hope you're sharper than you look."

@codexvmbra

While most of the city had that sharp chill of cold due to the snow and the time of the year it was, it never seemed to be the same level of cold she was used to. So when she heard of an area even colder than the city, Mira felt the need to visit it, to feel even some semblance of normality, if she ever had such a thing.

That was what had her visiting the Twilight Tundra, albeit, she still isn't sure how it went from visiting the area to being on a train that went around the whole branch but that comes with exploring didn't it.

The size of the train car did have her feeling slight unease, reminding her a bit too much of the room she was stuck in on Adam ship. But, she doesn't get to think back to it too much until there's panicked screaming coming from the other side of the train car, people going on about a body on the floor and a murderer amongst everyone.

Like the others, it draws Mira over, to try and glance at the victim laying on the floor, an un-phased expression on her face when she catches sight as she blinks. While it is the first time she's seeing it personally, such a sight was common in the memories she'd see from various souls.

Certainly the latter; it's not her "integrity" he's after, here.

"You misunderstand. Back home, I spent my time helping people get what they want-- what they need. I merely assumed that someone used to a certain lifestyle like yourself might find yourself missing that sort of support now that you're here. I'm here to help."

That's his point exactly; she has no one to whom she can dedicate herself and her loyalty. So why not dedicate herself to him--?

"So that's what you call it." Freeing people from some other exploitative power just to keep them under her own thumb, no doubt.

"Well, there's no power more exploitative here than the Stars themselves." At least, that's one sentiment. Maxwell, for his part, finds their captors-slash-saviors to be perfectly adequate, all things considered.

"So it stands to reason that your first step would be to take on the big bads themselves, right?"

He's teasing her. He doesn't believe for one second that she's the underdog protector-of-the-downtrodden that she claims to be.

◈ Carlotta's gaze narrowed. "Oh? A most curious proposal to levy towards someone you've only just met, sir. Do I give off an air of integrity, or could it be possible you may be interested in my skillset?" She hadn't divulged her talents to him, but she wore a BB gun on her hip. With what she'd said, it was possible he could have concerned she was a marksman.

If so, he was absolutely correct in that assertion.

"Admittedly, as a fresh face I hardly have much in the way of aspirations just yet. Committed to my family as I am, that loyalty serves no purpose here." A world without the Montellis was something new to brave, but the woman was up to the challenge. "So I suppose I'll inevitable fall back on my principles alone. Surely there are those here that are suffering under the pressures of the exploitative, so I'd work to relieve those pressures so that the suffering know peace."

{ isola starter call ! || @astrallithid! }

Maxwell sits on a weather-worn stone, his jacket folded neatly over his lap and sweat gathering on his brow. His heart can't take this heat! Is this what summers are like for his pawns? If so, he counts himself lucky that he managed to escape before the season turned.

He sways, sight unfocused with the shimmering haze of heat rising off of the expanse of sand around him. He had wanted to come see the grand skeleton of the desert. It is quite impressive a sight, but not one worth passing out for. But he's here now, and he didn't exactly have the chance to whip up a chilled thermal stone for the trip.

...good lord. The Amazing Maxwell is going to die from exposure of all things.

As his breathing turns more labored, Max catches sight of another figure approaching the Bones of the Forgotten. He stands too quickly, hoping to wave them down, and collapses onto one knee. They appear to be a hearty sort (far more suited to traversing inhospitable climates than Max himself), and they're sure to be able to help-- if they're kind enough to stop and assist a stranger stranded in the sands, of course.

"You dare threaten the Great Maxwell?" He bares his fangs in turn and raises his hands in a grand gesture. It's... not quite as intimidating as it might be if he were forced to capable of appearing monstrous and twisted.

Insolent little worm... if only Maxwell still had his puppets, he would slash this pampered, pompous pup to ribbons!

"Deal's off, Beast. You've made a very grave mistake today. I hope for your sake that you find your blade returned to you before I get mine. Impermanent death won't save you; it means that I will be able to destroy you as many times as I see fit."

Pleasantries, done.

"If things went without saying they would not be written."

He grit his jaw, his lip lifting to reveal his fangs.

"Do not act the wounded party with me. You are trying to play me just as I am trying to play you. I would skewer you atop my blade if I had it, I would kill you without a thought if death stuck here. But I do not have my blade and death is inconsequential here.

What is it they say? Lets....make nice."

{ isola starter call ! || @oriar ! }

Now that he knows he'll never get back to the Constant, there's a strange pull to return there. That's you in a nutshell, William Carter. Always chasing what you can't have.

He doesn't really want to go back, of course. Not to the Throne, and not to the life of a survivor.

But.

It's been so long since he's been in civilization-- really been in it, not crept shadow-like into the real world-- that he finds himself retreating to the semi-familiar isolation of the forest quite soon into his stay on the island. He's indulged himself nonstop in the finer things of society, and now he needs to pause and reset before all of these recent changes completely overwhelm him. He imagines that this forest, with its easy-to-find forageables and mundane fauna, will be a perfectly relaxing alternative to his own spider-infested woods.

He's wrong.

Maxwell tears through the forest, eyes wide and wild. He's seen-- something. Something tall and shaped like Them that made his skin crawl and his sanity fall in an instant. He doesn't know where he's going, just that he needs to get away, and he almost doesn't notice when another figure (human-sized, thank goodness) appears out of the mist in front of him.

He makes a valiant effort to skid to a stop before he runs into them, but doesn't quite succeed; Maxwell slams into the stranger, toppling them both to the ground in a heap of limbs and disturbed leaves.

He scrambles to untangle himself, his gaze darting feverishly back and forth around the misty clearing.

"It's-- there--! It's coming, They're coming--! What are you waiting for, get up!"

Maxwell stares at her, his lip curling slightly. She reminds him very, very much of one of his pawns-- that same attitude towards death, that same manner of speaking.

He exhales in a huff.

"Yes, why don't you do that." It would serve her right for mocking him.

"I'm not a coward, you know," he sulks. "I'm hardly a stranger to death."

He can picture it quite starkly. That feeling of his body, held together through Their will alone, crumbling into dust... a knife would feel like a lover's caress compared to that, but that doesn't mean Maxwell is going to up and toss his life away for no good reason.

"Simple. We determine the motive behind this death. Is the killer planning to pick us off one by one, or did they have some grudge against this specific passenger? Can they be reasoned with, or will we need to resort to force in order to protect ourselves?"

Simple in theory, maybe, but less so in practice.

Maxwell leans up against the wall, surveying the other pairs.

"Do you recognize the corpse? Understanding the deceased may shed some light onto the one responsible."

And if not that, then--

"Alternatively... look over there. That pair across from us. They seem rather unaffected, do they not? Maybe that means that one or both of them expected this to happen."

Mira at first doesn't move any to glance back towards the man looming over his shoulder when he's speaking at first, more focused on the body on the ground before she hears him spout off that the one who had done the killing should come forward now.

That finally draws her attention away from the body to cast a glance towards the outspoken man as everyone else in the car begins to argue amongst one another for a moment before she's looking at the 'investigator'. Once it's settled on that everyone should stay in pairs and she's paired up with the man who's started to arguments between the others, eyes dart back up to his face as she tilts her head a little.

"Death is nothing to be feared, it happens to all. However, if it shall bring you comfort, I will stand behind you so I shall be hit first if you like?"

Mira offers to the man, even if he was the one who caused all of the ruckus in the first place as the other pairs move to further themselves for safety, which in turn makes Mira look towards the dead body again, raising a hand to motion towards it.

"How would you go about making sure you do not end up like him?"

RULES --

INFORMATION FOR INDIE INTERACTIONS --

IR APP || IR STARTER CALL --

ISOLA RADIALE (AFFILIATED GROUP) --

[graphic image by the incredible @feralreason !]