Hewillnevervisit 1 - Blog Posts

BITE BITE SNARL.

...ahem.

"How generous of you." Yes, he'll bloody your bloody cape. Give you,,, a damn difficult stain to remove. Small victories.

He coughs again, wetly, and unbuttons his vest to better assess the damage. His shirtfront has been torn through in relatively clean lines, but is still what he considers unsalvageable. It's not that Maxwell can't mend clothing-- he's rather skilled with a sewing kit, actually-- but it seems like just a little too much effort now that he actually has access to such luxuries as money and shops. He'll use it as an excuse to fill out his wardrobe.

"I don't suppose you'd care to pay for the damages, as well? As a show of comradery."

He snorts and chuckles.

"As you say. Follow me...we won't be wanting to go out the front. The owners may not take kindly to the stains and trails of blood we're making and I don't care to bother with diplomacy with them."

He led the two of them to a side door and out. It let out to a little porch area with only two tables, assuredly meant for patrons who wanted a bit more privacy.

Taking a seat he crossed one leg over the other and smirked at the man.

"Great Maxwell," His tone was dripping with sarcasm and self satisfaction. "Would you care for a bit of my cape to wrap your wounds? As a show of...comradery."

That makes Maxwell falter, and not for the reason the Librarian might assume.

He hasn't been called a human in ages.

Demon, certainly. Vampire, on occasion. But human?

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

"Don't touch me." There's no real bite to his tone anymore. With a pained grunt, he pushes himself shakily to his feet, clutching at his wounds.

"...four." Which means he's probably experiencing more of a five to seven on the pain scale, because he certainly can't be trusted to give an honest account of how badly the Librarian has beaten him.

"You may assist me in finding a good place to sit and stop the bleeding." What a gracious offer.

"Ah...human skin really is so brittle...so easy to tear..."

He breathed heavily, not having expected to exert himself like that today. He sat up and slowly got himself standing despite his own wounds.

He was acting tough in the moment but the claw marks he'd received were nothing to brush off.

"Oh shush. No need for drama. I'll be doing neither. Death means nothing here and leaving you would leave me at a loss, all that arguing for naught.

How severely do your wounds hurt you? I shall either pull you to your feet or pick you up, depending. One through ten measurement should be sufficient."

And catch he does! For all of his posturing, Maxwell is physically quite weak, and he doubles over as soon as those claws slash across his front. The Stars have not seen fit to return his armor, and he takes the full brunt of the attack.

Pain blooms in his chest, and red begins to stain his suit; it gives the appearance that the vibrant poppy on his lapel has begun to drip its color like splattered ink.

Ow.

On instinct, Max pulls out the book the Stars have given him and flips it open. Nothing happens.

"Fine, fine, yes! You've proven your point." Max's expression is still twisted into a hateful snarl. If only he still had the power to pull irritations like the Librarian into a hell of his own making...

"Now finish the job or leave me to lick my wounds in peace."

Surprised, his body pulls back as it sees Maxwell's lunge. But Maxwell makes contact all the same. The Librarian, while lithe, was exceptionally taller than most humans and human adjacent.

Thus he was tackled down, but not flat to his back. Instead his lengthy legs were sprawled out and he was sitting up with his arms holding him up behind him. His eyes were bright and he looked both like he were smiling wide and mashing his teeth for attack.

"Your claws suit your countenance well, a predator! Take a look at mine!"

He sat forward, swiping an arm in an arc in front of him, claws out, trying to catch Maxwell.

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."

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'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?"

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 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."

"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.

{ 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?"