That Makes Maxwell Falter, And Not For The Reason The Librarian Might Assume.

It worked. Their rickety, slapped-together, pitiful excuse of a portal did what nothing else could and took him mind body and soul out of the Constant.

Scrambling back from the edge of the cavernous pit next to which he’s landed, Maxwell casts hasty glances around. He could hug Mr. Higgsbury, kiss him even! They’re free! They’re free!

But Wilson is nowhere to be seen.

Had the portal broken behind Maxwell? He feels a surge of regret so strong it surprises him, but he shoves it down and pushes himself to his feet. If he had to choose between freedom for himself or his pawn, he’d choose himself, of course. He’s paid his dues to that wretched place and those wretched shadows, and he’s never, ever going back.

…which means that he shall have to reacquaint himself with civilized society.

He knows as soon as he steps through the portal that he’s not in his original dimension. That’s frightening, yes, but nothing he can’t handle; it seems he’s not the first person to arrive here from a different world, and although some of the technology is completely new to him (what is this item he’s been given? It certainly doesn’t look like a phone!), he’s creative, resilient, and determined to make his new home better than his last.

Armed with nothing but a book (has the Codex rejected him now that he’s escaped Their grasp?), he warily accepts the offer to be transported to his new lodgings and readies himself for the next chapter of his life. Checkmate, hands shaken, the game is put away for good.

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? ❜

RULES --

INFORMATION FOR INDIE INTERACTIONS --

IR APP || IR STARTER CALL --

ISOLA RADIALE (AFFILIATED GROUP) --

[graphic image by the incredible @feralreason !]

He pokes at the LifeSavers Book of Spells. A dusting of sugar coats his hand like fine snow. ...this'll take some getting used to. But, hey--

"Magic is magic."

"And getting to use it again sure tastes sweet."

"Now was that in the settlements, or in the Capital itself?"

Maxwell makes friendly small-talk to the woman at the counter before leading William to a cozy little table. It seems he's at least somewhat well-known in the area, as he and the employee recognize each other immediately; he must have been genuine when he said he likes to be out among his people. ...that, or she's seen his gaudy statue.

"I don't run a charity, if that's what you mean. And I'm not their caretaker; I may have brought you into the world, but it's up to you to live your own life."

"And you, Mr. William? Do you help out your fellow magicfolk?"

What kinda coincidence ? William isn't asking that one.

One of the first very real things Mister Maxwell here has said. ❝ Yeah— they do, don't they ? Y'know, as a kid . . . I never even really saw other Afterborn like me. I knew they existed, but never met 'em. I didn't even know about woad— err, magic — 'till a couple years later, and even then I didn't . . . get to use it myself until about a year ago. ❞ So yes, he gets it. The Capital would do better, and be better if they took their fingers out of their proverbial ears.

Look at that, he got them talking a bit. And, they have arrived at food. Yahoo !

❝ So, d'you do anything else out here or just your magic shows ? Do you help Afterborn out or anything like that ? ❞

{ 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 when wilson isn't around to save his ass: i am going to die from heat. i am going to take heat damage. i am going to wander out into the desert and die. i am going to lose 75 health to the sun

"It is."

He glances around, coming to stand near the Librarian. While the fox appears altogether disinterested in the display, there's a gleam of amusement in Maxwell's eyes.

"My, my, I should have known you had a violent streak." When you nearly clawed me in half. "I think this will all be great fun, if we let it be. Don't think of it as doing them a favor-- think of it as being offered the opportunity to let off some steam. ...something you clearly need."

He's already made up his mind to try his hand at defeating the waves of monsters; he enjoys watching combat more than he enjoys partaking in it himself, but he's certainly not going to pass up the chance to put his new book of spells to the test.

"Have you gotten any new abilities? As far as I'm concerned, that's already made all of this ridiculousness worthwhile."

Candy Culling

Even as panic took the people, he sat, watching it all, a cup of coffee in hand. Catching someone in his peripheral vision, he addressed them.

"It's you, Great Maxwell." He drawled, sounding bored.

"What do you make of it? The staged people, the candy magic?"

He sips.

"I was contemplating whether to do as they ask. On the one hand, I don't tend towards doing things for others with such little information given.

On the other hand, everything is awful and I wouldn't mind pounding these disgusting, sticky, oozy, melty monsters to crumbling bits... and perhaps learn something of our captors further inside the castle."

@codexvmbra

"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."

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?"