Has Anyone Noticed Maxwell Rips His Own Poster In Half?

... ..... .......

Maxwell bursts out laughing. This construct has been programmed with sass.

"Touché."

Perhaps it has more in common with that soulless automaton who wandered right into Maxwell's world than it does with his Chess pieces. But while WX-78 is entirely predictable ("kill all organics" this and "metal is superior" that), Maxwell truly has no idea what will come out of this 'bot's voicebox next.

What fun!

"Is that so. And I suppose you'd prefer I dress like you, then? Give up my 'haughtiness' for a complete lack of self-respect? Word of advice from me to you, pal-- whoever designed you? Sue 'em."

"..."

"Yeesh!"

He wants things to get mean? Two can play at that game!

"Alright— alrighty then, let me give 'er another try." The robot "clears" its throat, rubbing its gloves together. When it speaks again, its tone has a noticeable layer of aggression, contrasting its permanent smile.

"Well, I think you look like some kinda haughty schmuck that came straight outta the Victorian era."

;;

whoops. got sucked into adventure mode. gonna get back to replies in t-minus... now!

It's not an uncommon question; everyone wants to know how he did it. Sometimes people demand answers in that certain insufferable, accusatory tone, waiting for him to slip up as proof that he's lying, tricking them, or simply insane. But it never happens, because this is the truth-- whether they like it or not.

"I used to be a normal stage magician. Skilled in sleight of hand, but not in any real magic. I wanted--"

Maxwell's brows raise. Did he hear that right?

"If that's the term you want to use, I give you permission." That's a new one, alright! It makes Max smirk, and keeps him from immediately launching back into a narrative all about himself. He has to give the kid credit-- they aren't boring him.

"What's your name?" He gives them a glance over again, this time with interest in who they are, not just what they look like.

"Yes, of course." Who doesn't want to learn more about his power. "Let me stop you before you get your hopes up too high; even the most brilliant experts in Craft magic can't come close to what I've done, so unless you'll be content with typical summoning spells, you should avoid it altogether. Think of it like the Big Bang; we can make some remarkable advancements here on Earth, but a creation event of that magnitude is a one-and-done deal. Even I couldn't make all of this again. That's the price I paid to allow magic to be a diffused resource. So that others might share in a glimmer of my power."

Isn't he generous.

. . .

Well now they're just really confused !

William nods along, stopping as Maxwell does and feeling a need to cover his face, tail coiling around his ankle. It's all so embarrassing, even if he is being complimented. He hates being Afterborn . . . ❝ I-if you say so . . . ❞ They say, looking down at his wringing hands in note of the black claws. Then to Maxwell's own, and back again.

❝ I guess I got another question first . . . Uh, how . . . how did you get into all of this ? I mean, you're talkin' about magic like— I mean, you seem to really know your stuff . . . about that, a-and about me. ❞

William winces, gritting his teeth. He's rambling. Deep breath.

❝ How did you get into magic, and learn so much ? And also uh— areyoumyfather ? ❞ William manages a hasty mumble, looking down past fidgeting claws to the paved ground. ❝ I think I'd like to learn more about you and your magic. A-about your power. ❞ They add, a desperate effort to skirt around that. Their face is on fucking fire.

Oh, how he wishes he could sic his hounds on this fox in true hunting party fashion.

"Yes, yes, fine!" he grinds out, throwing his hands up in defeat. "If you apologize and if you make it worth my while to see this agreement through, I'll transcribe everything perfectly legibly in our common tongue. I expect you to do the same. No tricks from either of us. Happy?"

"Your end of the deal. Hm. May I have an inquiry?" He did not actually stop to see if Maxwell would give him the go ahead.

"Is the knowledge you possess written in the common language of this island?"

maxwell playing chess with one of his shadow puppets and losing

"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.

Oh look. It's him again. The dumb ass whom finally gave up out of manipulation and listened to the voices

Rose themed corruption BABBBYYYYYYYYYYYY

They really want him back

{ 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.

How many times had he held this exact conversation with Higgsbury while they had been bickering over the construction of their makeshift portal? At least Herta is gracious enough to be able to admit the truth-- magic is science we don't understand yet and is therefore more impressive than anything some common chemist can cobble together, and all that.

"My condolences. I know the feeling." He had been intrigued to find his Codex returned to him, but it had turned out to be nothing more than a joke at his expense; the words and chants contained therein currently provide none of their previous power. Nothing more than markings on a page.

"And I look forward to watching you do so." What can he say? He's always found self-purported geniuses to be oh-so-fun to play with; they're so certain of their own abilities that they make the most amusing mistakes.

"How do you propose to begin your investigation? The Stars are, by all accounts, fully omnipotent in this realm."

@codexvmbra

✧ "I suppose this would qualify as "magic"." Herta mused at a curious question posed to her as she floated along. A man had asked her about her levitation. "But it could also be considered "science". Magic is merely science's ultimate form, as far as I see it." Its why she had no qualms with being considered a witch or a mage, even though she was technically a genius. The genius, in fact.

"I'd show you a little more, but those pesky Stars have had their way with my talents. My genius remains, and yet the laws that govern my abilities have been tampered with. A shame, but I do look forward to unraveling the mysteries of out captors."

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.