Codexvmbra - FREEDOM SUITS ME.

the thorned rose cannot help but prick. it is its nature.

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.

;;

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

"Hell if I know. Call someone, perhaps? It is supposed to be a phone, is it not?"

Who would Maxwell even call...?

"I've been told I can pay with it, among other things." So far, everyone's been gracious enough to handle that process for him when he's wanted to make a purchase.

"I suppose the first step would be to understand what it is actually used for. You have one, too, yes?"

"What're you trying to do?" Brad's not the most social, and generally doesn't care about others, but...

He can emphasize with a fellow grumpy old man.

{ isola starter call ! || @corporatevalue ! }

This is unacceptable. Yes, maybe losing his puppets is the price he's expected to pay for protection from Them, but-- but-- the creators of this world could at least give him a replacement for his servants! Dropping him into the middle of an unfamiliar realm with nothing but the shirt on his back and a mockery of his Codex in his hand? It's unfair! It's criminal!

It's exactly what he deserves, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

...or tolerate it.

"Enough of this beating around the bush. I've made it very clear what I'm looking for, and if that means aligning myself against whatever passes for law enforcement around here, then so be it." How much more direct can he be? He wants something powerful, magical or otherwise, and he couldn't give less of a damn how Ms. Jenson has sourced it.

"So I'll say this one more time; let's talk about your real big-ticket items."

“of course, take your time…”

"It would seem so." He's not shocked by any means, but he's still intrigued. Prior to his arrival in Spirale, Maxwell had been under the impression that there were only two realms-- the "real world," and the world of shadows. It's interesting to see that someone who appears so human could be from a different Earth entirely. One without Italy! Imagine that.

Maxwell arches a brow, skeptical and amused. Ah, yes, she's from a good mafia. How quaint.

"You don't need to pretty it up for me. In fact, I think the two of us could help each other if you were honest about your 'values.' It must be difficult to thrive here without the support network you're used to; maybe we're both in need of allies?"

"What is it you hope to accomplish in Spirale, exactly?"

@codexvmbra

◈ "Italy? I apologize. If that's a country, then I have never heard of it. I could only surmise our worlds are very different, good sir." The woman bowed apologetically. She'd been speaking to this man for a short while and her name had been given. Evidently it reminded him of a land from his own world.

"I am a daughter of the nation of Rinascita. The Montelli family is a well known one there, and I do believe you wouldn't be incorrect to refer to it as a "mafia" based on traditional definitions. But I assure you we value our bonds with the people far more than wealth and power."

Ah! It's the fashion-forward fowl he met at work. She's surprised to find he's not just a pretty face, it seems.

"Certainly. In fact, I'm something of an expert. Between my magic and your axe, we could take on any of the challenges posed to us, I'm sure."

Engle looks over the candy corn axe in her hands, then at the man marveling over his book.

"You've used magic?" Engle asks. Maybe he could help her with one of her spells...

"Please, Charlie, be gentle!"

He knows how pathetic he sounds, how hypocritical it is of him to beg for mercy when it's his fault she's trapped in the darkness in the first place. But he can't help it; he's terrified, stumbling over roots and grasping hands as he tries in vain to outrun the night itself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What kind of idiot wastes their torch during dusk?

The dead kind.

He had been nervous, that's all. Winter's just around the corner and he had been doing one last resource rush before the warmth of Autumn fled for good. So many puppets up at once had sent his head spinning and shadows crawling in the corners of his vision and he hadn't been able to take the dim light of the setting sun. The puppets are gone now, abandoned along with their resources (what a god damned waste), leaving Maxwell with no light, no means to make another, and just enough clarity of mind for regret.

It's over. Charlie won't be gentle (she never is), and Max will be lucky if the others ever find his corpse in the upcoming snowstorms, much less bother to bring him back to life.

No. No, he refuses to die like this. This is still his world, and he must have something up his sleeve--

In the momentary glow of a firefly cluster, Maxwell holds the Codex aloft, murmurs to himself, and summons her.

@radiosent -- !

Tap. Tap tap tap.

That’s it, he gives up. This blasted device has bested him once and for all.

“Does anyone here actually know how to use one of these ‘cell-phones’?”