Latest Posts by codexvmbra - Page 2

Maxwell has sympathy for the jittery machine; it's hard not to, when he's seen his own prized creations in various states of functionality much like this, busted up and broken down by overzealous survivors.

But.

"I would sooner take fashion advice from a well-dressed baboon than I would from someone sporting an outfit like yours, you clown. Try that again, and this time, don't presume to give me advice."

@codexvmbra

"Who're you goin'— going out to see, huh? Must be somebody real—ly special! Ha— ha!"

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me. But... I'd be willin' to give ya some f— f— fashion advice, if you'd lend me your ear."

The magician's brief flash of defensiveness quickly melts away when faced with Cecil's charm. This unique opportunity is beginning to sound better and better; who could be more well-suited for a job description of "look good and get admired for it" than Maxwell the Great?

"Trust me, I can work a crowd." He grins, flashing sharp teeth. All he needs to do is settle back into his stage persona and put some of his more abrasive traits to the side while on the clock. Easy.

"Oh, yes. That all sounds just fine."

"I do believe this is the beginning of a very profitable partnership for both of us. I look forward to working with-- for you. Is there anything else you need from me to make this official?"

❛ I will design your outfit myself, of course. ❜

❛ You must shine if you are in the front, no? ❜

His eyes are already making mental measurements as he studies Maxwell's body, going over color swatches and fabric options in his head and mentally pairing them with the best fitting mask...

❛ The job will depend on your strengths, ❜ Cecil continues. ❛ If you can speak, you will help sell my clothing. Otherwise, just wearing my creation is enough. Do you lounge? I will give you the tools and props for it, to fulfill my vision. ❜

Impudent, infuriating vermin--!

Maxwell lunges, claws outstretched. He's going to throttle this fox until his fur turns blue, and then some!

He throws his entire (meager) body weight behind the attack, intending to tackle the Librarian to the ground and show him just how much "terror" he instills in the Nightmare King.

He smirks, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Perfectly happy," He crooned. "And I shall, in turn, transcribe my knowledge into the legible and understandable common tongue just as you will."

He tented his fingers together, his grin just a touch malicious.

"And your apology, Great Maxwell: I am sorry that you felt such terror at my threat as to withdraw our agreement. I will be gentler in future as not to cause you fear."

"Then it's very kind of you to offer up your expertise in this impromptu lesson."

He gives a polite nod, pushing himself to his feet and straightening his suit. As the dancers exit the stage, Maxwell steps up to its center, gazing out at the mostly-empty sea of seats.

He's hit with a sudden, horrible wave of deja vu.

Stage lights, brilliant and blinding, hazing over his vision. He can't make out the expressions of the crowd, but he doesn't need to; the only face he needs to see is hers, and there she is, smiling at him with love and hope and desperation. He's been gone, hasn't he. Mentally, at least. He's been sneaking off and hiding away and driving himself crazy pouring over that book, and she's noticed, and she's worried, and she's hoping that if they just get on stage again like they used to that everything will go back to normal. He knows it won't, but he'll indulge her this one last performance; he's never been able to say no to Her.

"Er-- welcome." Maxwell clears his throat, sweat suddenly beading at the back of his neck. "Forgive me, it's been some time since I've practiced my art."

He inhales, exhales, and plasters on his most confident smile.

His deck of cards is a familiar, grounding weight in his hand, and his smile gradually becomes more genuine as he taps it out and begins to shuffle.

"I'd like to demonstrate some of the classics with you here today. If I might have a volunteer?"

"Oh, thanks! No, nothin' like that. I'm just a dancer but maybe I could teach!"

"I think we're just about wrappin' up. Why don't you show the folks what you've got?"

Maria leans in a bit, now interested. Umbra sits calmly, awaiting the performance. Pearl takes out a notepad from her purse, ready to write about whatever comes next.

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 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? ❜

He's in desperate need of dust, so he doesn't not want to work for you. And standing around in nice clothes is all he does anyway, so he'd be the perfect fit!

He could use some touching up in the "pretty" department, though.

"How's the pay?" Right down to business. How charming, Max.

Flutters eyelashes.

❛ Don't you want to work for me? ❜

If you're pretty enough, all you have to do is stand there in nice clothes.

Maxwell's lip remains curled in a snarl. There is... a point to be made, yes, that the Librarian's words were nothing more than an empty threat. At the same time, it's a matter of respect. And lack thereof.

"Oh, please. As I said before, I always hold up my end of a deal. Just because you'd resort to violence doesn't mean I'd do the same."

Is Maxwell really trying to claim the moral high ground after everything he's done?

"If it's such a non-issue, then just apologize and let us get on with things. Unless your pride is more important to you than your pursuit of knowledge, Mr. Librarian."

The Librarian chuckled, a deep noise.

"Between us...if I have assessed you correctly...an empty threat as it was, for I did admit that I did not have my blade on me...should be nothing more than a trifle, yes?"

"Or are you such a stickler for this polite, respectable folly that you won't admit that, if within your power, you'd attack and peel the knowledge from my bones?"

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.)

"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."

;;

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

His wrongs! Maxwell snarls again, and their shaky truce nearly goes up in smoke for the second time.

He jabs a clawed finger at the Librarian's chest.

"Listen, pal, I'm not the one who jumped straight to threats of skewering you on my blade!" Sure, he had offered some threats of his own, but only after his ungrateful would-be partner had first!

"Apologize for letting it cross your minuscule mind to challenge me. Is that clear enough for you?"

He scoffed.

"You would then also have to admit your wrongs."

"You truly do insist on these one sided exchanges, don't you? I suppose you wouldn't be winning if you had to give the same amount as you got.

So, tell me then. What exactly is it that you find I have so transgressed that an apology is in order?"

Maxwell doesn't try to hide it this time; he laughs, loudly, attracting the attention of many of the other passengers. Some look at him with confusion, others with suspicion, and the pair being pointed at turn to whisper urgently to each other. What a lark!

"What? No, no. Well, maybe, who knows? Maybe our dear deceased was this close to blowing the lid off of their little operation, and they needed to ensure their silence."

From the look of those men, however, Max is skeptical they'd have the guts to go through with a stabbing.

"But this information is relevant to something else. Have you heard of blackmail, child? It's when you hear things, you tell them only to me, and I make us both rich."

Not necessarily off of this tidbit of information-- as the girl's pointed out, others have probably overheard different pieces of conversations in this small space. But in the future...

Yes, Max decides. He's keeping her.

"What's your name, kid?" he says with a smile, moving to sling an arm around her shoulder and pull her back against the safety of the wall with him. No more playing meat-shield for this one-- he likes her.

After Max's outburst of laughter (rather inappropriate considering the circumstances), more and more groups are beginning to look in his direction, glancing between him and his partner with increased suspicion.

...whoops.

There is absolutely no missing the change in his facial expression as she watches it morph through several emotions before seeing it land on a wide grin upon his face. He.. Liked hearing that as a response? Why would that information bring him such joy? It didn't seem he personally knew them.

"They weren't exactly quiet about it, I'm sure others overheard them."

Still, upon him asking about another pair in the car with them, she's moving to look towards them, not even being subtle about it as she's taking a moment to think back to when each individual was walking through the car besides her as she was sitting there, not even questioning why he'd wish to know such things.

"...Let's see.."

Mira then lifts a finger, pointing towards the sweaty and nervous one, before speaking.

"Something called embezzlement from the corporate job he has or something of the sort," then, she moves to point at the terrified one, "Helping him out, and his dad is the owner of the company."

Mira then moves to look back towards him, not catching how the pair of men are shooting their gaze towards her after just so casually saying such things.

"I do not see how any of this helps stop any more stabbings. Unless this information is relevant somehow?"

Starvetober day 27: siblings little jack and william!! Klei please give us a short with them both I beg you

Maxwell is still sneering, pride wounded and temper high, but he listens, eyes narrowing the longer the Librarian speaks.

The fox is still interested in an exchange, even after the turn this conversation has taken.

Fine.

"I may be convinced to continue with this-- if you apologize."

He'll even make this a fair trade and write in Common, as expected. It's not as though he'll be giving up any of his power by sharing pages of the Codex, after all; he's Their favorite, and unless They think They can get to him through the Librarian, it's exceedingly doubtful that They'd grant the fox any real abilities. The singular benefit of having Their "favor"...

"A pleasure," Maxwell says flatly, offering his hand again.

He took in the man's words, his ears swiveling atop his head.

"Hold a moment."

"If I were back from whence I came I would have no words for anyone who encountered me. But...I am not there. And I am glad of it. Away from the cyclical suffering.

I want to learn as is my nature now. You want to learn. I have no grand plot to try and return to that place, thus the learning is for learning's sake.

Perhaps we drop all the preamble. We do not need to give one another all the answers. It is not true study otherwise. But I've an aching curiosity and if possible, I would like to fulfill it. You want to know too, don't you?

Great Maxwell, was it? I am the Librarian."

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.

fake idgafer. i saw tht haunted look in ur eyes

"The Stars, you mean? They can't possibly care what we mere 'mortals' do." He allowed his pawns free run of his world. In fact, he quite enjoyed when they found gunpowder and blew themselves and other creatures into smithereens. The powers that rule this realm are almost certainly the same.

"Mm. No, I don't intend to limit myself to weapons of that kind." She knows what he wants-- objects of power and intrigue, not one's run-of-the-mill, boring old revolver.

Oh, yes. She knows exactly what he wants.

Maxwell watches with a sharp gaze. He wouldn't mind having a source of energy for himself; his time on the Throne has left him rather frail, as loathe as he is to admit it, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to have an easily-accessible pick-me-up on hand.

And.

Maxwell's brow rises in surprise as she demonstrates on her own assistant. That comes across as quite cold, even for him. She's quick to return the energy stolen, but still-- was that truly necessary?

Necessary or not, it's provided a quite compelling demonstration.

"I am highly interested in this piece. I intend to avoid combat as much as possible until my own powers return, so the subtlety afforded by this item is well worth the wait. However..."

He glances around as though his dear Codex will slip from the shadows into his grasp.

"I wonder whether you have anything that could mimic the abilities I'm used to. I've come to enjoy certain freedoms that come with having servants at my beck and call." He glances at her assistant; she can relate, he's sure.

"I wonder if now would also be an appropriate time to ask about, er. Payment options." Better to admit outright that he almost certainly isn't rich enough to pay up front-- he would hate for her to become irritated and decide to perform a second demonstration of that box on him.

"I wonder whether there would be any opportunity for me to provide my services to you as a form of partial payment? I think you'll find I can be discreet when needed. And I know when to keep my mouth shut and my eyes to myself."

"When it comes to the city of spirals; I don't believe it is law enforcement that should be worrying you," she'd hum in thought. Indeed, were 'righteous' otherworlders - vigilantes - far more troubling. Gifted with all sorts of diverse abilities, including ones that'd be sheer fiction within her homeworld. "— but I recognize you're resolute."

That a newcomer was itching to break laws in a world where they don't even yet know the extent of what they're dealing with, to the point they'd find themselves traversing the low levels of fibonacci so soon… Ms. Jenson wasn't sure whether she should find the courage commendable, or find the lack of prudence appalling.

Not like her personal assessment of the other's character mattered much; he was a customer all the same. If he insists on making a potential mistake, who's she to impede?

She signalled to her subordinate with a mere headtilt. Spirale had no Port Mafia; true - she had the luck of seeing a couple of familiar faces, one of which being with her here today, but that was about it. Her current main occupation wasn't even connected with any of this — but, ah, how irresistible it is, to be the supply in where there's just this much demand. Within a business she felt right at home in, no less.

Ms. Jenson carried an amused expression whilst speaking. "Often I find new customers rushing here to purchase firearms, and if you insist; I do offer them. But if you're looking for powerful; simple steel won't cut it."

The subordinate would return with a suitcase, placing it on her desk. "You seem like the cunning sort," she'd observe, choosing a descriptor that was - somewhat - less accusatory than to assume them to be the type to backstab others. "— so I believe I've something that'll grant you considerable leverage."

Out the suitcase, she'd take out what looked like an ornamented box, crevices hinting that it - actually - doesn't open fully. More importantly, the box didn't appear intimidating.

Quite the opposite, actually; it'd not look out of place within an herbal store, its use of pastel green, white and gold giving a gentle, inoffensive impression. "This is based on an existing, permissible product from Cotes Fantasci, and if not used - will pass as one just fine. Much like the genuine article, it's able to supply you with energy, but; it is modified to include a lethal twist."

While it is unlikely the customer could hear the order she'd mutter to her subordinate, it is possible they noticed a fleeting yellow spark that'd occur right after.

Tilting the box towards the poor guy, she'd push the subtle button on the bottom, which loosened the lower part of the box, creating a gap in the crevice that runs through the middle of the gadget. "Naturally, you could just use it for its assumed purpose; it has you gradually recover energy, and whenever you're done and back in good shape— simply push it shut," she said as she did as much, closing the cube. The volunteer didn't say anything, but he did look visibly more vibrant than earlier.

"But," started, as she pressed the button once more. "— as it has your target gradually regain energy, you can also choose for them a different fate."

She'd quietly count, eventually reaching for the lower part of the box, but instead of pushing— twisted it. Response was instantaneous; as the box closed shut, the subordinate's legs gave into fatigue and he collapsed to the ground, coughing.

"Taking back the energy you've granted in one. swift. move. Yes, the target will be fine if it is done mere seconds after activating the box, but if you let it run for a few minutes?" a grin. "It may not be capable of giving you more energy than you'd usually have in good health, but all the surplus — it accumulates in secret. Twist it then, and you've got instantaneous death that - to anyone else - looks like it's been caused by starvation."

Well. Cannot have her subordinate be plagued by exhaustion on the clock. Using the box once more to let him recover, and after she had pushed the box shut, she'd place it on the table. "There are clear disadvantages, of course. Useless in the midst of active combat, for one, as it requires a lengthly idle time period for the desired effect."

Shrugging, she gestured to the suitcase. "If you'd be willing to tell me what kind of situation you're anticipating, I am sure I've something more tailored to your needs."

“of course, take your time…”

"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."

His smile drops in an instant, irritation flashing across his features. No, no, no. That's not how this works. His playthings don't get to question him and add terms of agreement and try to trap him in something clean-cut and binding like he's a genuine demon.

"Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?" And he hasn't said it. Technically, it's still not part of the deal. ...he'll certainly need the Librarian's information translated, though, as that little demonstration has shown. How frustrating.

"I don't appreciated being taken for a fool. If you insist on beleaguering me over every little point, perhaps you would care to learn my secrets from someone else. Now, do we have a deal or not?"

His gaze is stone cold, revealing nothing.

"Just a moment, if I may," He rumbled.

"For the sake of clarity, of course." The Librarian was playing too. He knew Maxwell's type; he was one of them. Though, his methods of getting his way perhaps differed. He rarely used honeyed words.

"For one another's portions of knowledge, are they expected to be transcribed in the common language of Radial Island, which we all have inexplicably learned without study?"

Then his mouth opened again and the sounds of chimes and gongs came out instead of words. Or what most would consider words.

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.

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?"

unstoppable force: maxwell is too important to find a job. immovable object: he just spent every single bit of dust he was given as a newcomer in his first week here. outcome: ???

"Unfortunately, it seems that freedom is far from... free."

{ isola starter call ! || @hewillnevervisit !}

"Oh, don't worry, pal. I always hold up my end of a deal."

Maxwell's sharp, toothy smile makes him look almost as fox-like as the Librarian himself. He's extended a blackened, claw-tipped hand, waiting for the other to shake on their trade.

Knowledge for knowledge.

Max has, as always, worded the terms of their arrangement such that he's not technically lying. He's promised the Librarian that, in return for teaching Max the secrets of his own studies, the magician will transcribe a portion of his Codex from memory for the Librarian to keep.

...Maxwell may have neglected to mention that the Codex Umbra is fully encrypted, but, hey, a little deciphering should be nothing for one so well-acquainted with books, right?

"So what do you say? Ready for a peek behind the curtain?"

Maxwell grits his teeth against the kind, considerate mockery of his own habitual greeting to his former pawns. Eugh. He doesn't need pity! ...except that's exactly what he needs, and the very reason he waved this man over in the first place. Right. His pride can wait.

"Do you see any horses around here?" he snaps. It comes out sounding somewhat flat and breathless from exhaustion, and he gives a halfhearted apology immediately afterwards. He has got to learn to bite his tongue around people who can literally choose whether he lives or dies.

"I have no mount. What-- what can I offer you for the use of yours?" Max pauses, then admits, weakly: "I don't think I'll be able to make the journey on foot. I can barely... stand."

Balduran had decided to take a small break from his exploration of the Mistwood- the Castle of the Forest King had proven itself much more difficult to find- and he wasn't too keen on being stranded in the forests during the night. To remedy this, he'd simply pushed forward- right into the Land of Burnt Umber. He'd quickly become friendly with the locals- a perk of that natural charm of his- and they'd told him of the Bones of the Forgotten. As any good adventurer would, Balduran made sure to prepare for a long day in the desert heat. He was lucky enough to have found a few desert carrots. He was told the creature he rode was called Jewel of the Desert. Luckily it seemed to be just like riding a horse.

Balduran let his steed drink at a strange oasis when they both became wary from the heat. He found that he could not bottle any of it. At least, there was a place to come back to if he needed to rest.

When he set out again, it wasn't long before he spotted someone who looked about ready to pass out. A man in a suit- ❝ Hey- ❞

❝ You look like you've seen better days- There's an oasis not far from here- at least not if you're riding on horseback- ❞

Inktober Day 09: Swing! Decided to go with maxwell and charlie swing dancing! referenced a picture i found from vintagedancer

This is Paradise. To hell with his Codex, to hell with his power!-- he has been gifted the only thing he truly wants right now, and the only thing They could never give him.

Charlie's safe. Jack's happy. Even Higgsbury is probably still at home, chugging away at his doomed experiments. It's as though William Carter never existed, and thus, neither has his long string of failures and regrets.

Maxwell is finally, for the first time ever, truly free.

He strolls into the amphitheater without a care in the world, meeting the stranger's glare with a smug, unbothered grin.

"Oh, dear, am I interrupting something? I didn't realize this space was reserved." It's not, he's sure, and he's in too good a mood to let one nasty look drive him out or goad him into a fight.

Instead, he plops down in a seat right next to the one who glared at him, beaming at the dancers on stage. This is what Charlie looks like right now, he bets-- she's found another performer to work with, and is having the time of her life. Unharmed, prosperous, sane.

"Bravi!" he calls out to the dancers on stage. Then, to the small group in the audience with him: "Friends of yours?"

The posse has set up shop at one of the amphitheaters in Archimedes Ward. Anne is practicing on stage with a few other dancers she's found, teaching them how to do the can-can.

The other three women sit around the theater. Pearl's reading a book about finances, Umbra is mending her bow and arrows, and Maria is tending to Mister Blue.

And there seems to be someone else who wandered in... Maria gives him the stink eye. Pearl and Umbra look over, and Anne seems too invested in her dancing to give more than a glance.

@codexvmbra