come_sailaway | The Off-Season [OTA]

Entry tags:

The Off-Season [OTA]

Who: Maxwell
What: Passing the days
When: Throughout December
Warnings: TBD

Like Butter Over Too Much Bread [The Brig] [Post-Excursion]

If anyone happens to be near the lower levels of the ship, they might catch a whiff of something odd. To some, it might smell like something burning. To others, it might smell like spilled gasoline, or odd chemicals. To everyone, it's a smell that catches their attention and puts them on alert.

Should they follow it, they'll find it leads to the brig, where Maxwell is hunched over a magic circle on all fours, shaking and drenched with sweat. He looks positively exhausted, and doesn't give much of a reaction when approached. His eyes are glazed over, focus deadlocked on something distant and unseeable.

Nothing Up My Sl- Whoops! [Various] [Anytime]

He's been busy at work in the library, leaving the tables by the Alchemy Engine littered with random objects. Every time he's there, he's surrounded by spreadsheets. It seems like he writes something down whenever he manages to make something, even if it's a duplicate of the objects he's already made.

Stay, Keep Us Company a While [Bobby B's] [During Excursion]

With the ship so empty, he's taken to sitting in Bobby B's with the phonograph playing, always sitting in the same chair. He doesn't smoke while he's doing this, he just sits and stares at the opposite wall. It's his way of being the edgy rogue in the shadowy corner. There's no mistaking it, he's brooding. One could say he's being quite silly about it, but perhaps there really is something weighing heavy on his mind. It's certainly not out of the question around here.

The Smell of Danger on the Air [Various] [Post-Excursion, Post Interaction With Tiamat]

There's the faintest hint of blood clinging to him, a stray few specks on his shirt tails. It's probably nothing.

[Wildcard]

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The day she wakes after the utter destruction of Kevin's realm, she sees an opportunity to follow up with a certain ally she made back in October. He's not hard to find, the strange scent drawing her to the brig where the dark mage Maxwell sits glossy-eyed over a magic circle. She's always found these things interesting, they never made sense to her, not even in the books her host reads. But the angels and demons use them to great success, so they must be worth something.

"Hello, Maxwell. I hope you have not forgotten our deal?"

He startles at the sound of her voice. Maxwell takes a moment to regain himself, before he sizes her up, reading her face to be more certain of who he's dealing with. Once he's confident, he straightens up, posture tense and respectful.

"My Lady. I was not expecting to speak directly with you again so soon. I have not forgotten our deal, but the Captain has been less than forthcoming with some information I require."

Tiamat lifts her chin, glancing down the hall before stepping inside and closing the door.

"You can start without that information. Something happened on the excursion and this is the perfect chance for us to move forward with the binding, all you would have to do to activate it would be to use the words I will teach you. But you have to get the symbols in place."

"And that I can do. But... considering how we only have this one shot, I want to make certain that I have all my plans in place before I show my hand. But I am willing to make the preparations."

"Of course, I don't mean to rush your endgame, I just want the pieces in place and considering I am in control it makes it potentially our only chance. No one will be worrying for a few days. She tends to isolate herself after arguments and stress."

Tiamat leans against the wall and crosses her arms, fixing him with her scarlet gaze.

"You're sure you're willing to do something like this? If your resolve shakes and your hand slips it could all be for naught."

She desperately hopes he can, she needs the man to do what she cannot.

"I know how to do what needs to be done. I just need to know that it will result in what I'm hoping it will."

Tiamat sighs heavily.

"If you do this correctly, you will have an Angel of Death under your complete control whenever you want. It's too bad you didn't see the display she put on at the excursion, killed 12 people without touching them, ate someone's heart. It will be well worth your while to follow through when the Captain complies with your wishes."

He pauses.

"So, if we complete the binding now, it will not require that I immediately take control. What you're proposing is not that we set her into a frenzy now, but that be ready to do so at a moment's notice?"

"Exactly."

"In that case... I've completed my notes. I have all the invocations ready."

"You may wish to do this in the morgue," she points out. "I think the blood will be less noticeable in there. Plus, that's where Friday takes the bodies anyway."

She smirks.

"Is it still considered murder if they don't know about it?"

"I tend to assume there's always someone watching."

...Maxwell, you're not my "Elder Scrolls: Oblivion" character. You shouldn't have to worry about getting the prompt "Your killing has been observed by forces unknown."

"I'm fairly certain the Captain knows everything, but he won't act against you. He may like some people here, but he's too selfish to stop your plans. Not when it could help him. That whole 'suffering' thing."

She holds out her hand to him.

"Shall we go secure your plans?"

He takes her hand.

"Yes, let's."

He knows his way down to the morgue in a way that won't go through any busy areas, and he knows he won't get too much suspicion walking with 'Valdis,' but he's still a little on edge as they make their way there.

Tiamat knows where each person is, having tracked their souls around the ship long enough, so they reach the morgue without running into a single one. That's not to say no one saw them, but they weren't stopped.

She closes the door behind them, flicking on the light before pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket and holding it out to him.

"Here are the symbols, and when you are ready to activate them, just say 'Vær min ødeleggelse i mørket.' No one will know until you give further commands, but control will be yours."

She jumps up on one of the slabs.

"Just make it fast, I dislike suffering when it's my own."

Edited 2023-12-27 04:22 (UTC)

He nods, holding back his misgivings. He has a steady hand, and he's been preparing himself for this.

He's done so much worse. Scalpels are much less unwieldy than razors honed from flint. He trades nitrile gloves for silken ones, and works in silence, save for his incantations.

Hearts are strange when they aren't black and withered or made of straw.

Funny thing about those hearts made of living flesh and blood, they don't like being cut into. Tiamat remains alive for as much of it as she can, but eventually Valdis opens her eyes in her own bed to the sound of knocking, then the door clicks open and Ash's scent fills the room.

Elsewhere in the ship, he does his best to clean himself up in the aftermath of the procedure. He's fairly confident that he's wiped away every trace of blood, before he leaves for his cabin.

Whether or not he really has adequately covered his tracks remains to be seen.

Sometime in the night three days later, Maxwell will receive a text.

Contact will be difficult moving forward, but I will message you when I am able. Be wary otherwise. And Good Luck.

Shortly after this conversation Crichton comes to find Maxwell with the picture he found hanging at Photos at Sea in hand. The photo depicts Maxwell and Valdis holding hands walking into the morgue on the date that Valdis claims she doesn't remember being awake.

"Hey, got a minute. I need to talk to you about something." His voice is firm but he's working hard to keep the obvious aggression out of it. "It's important."

The magician raises an eyebrow. He's not familiar with Crichton, and while he's gotten used to people approaching him with more familiarity than he would have expected in his time, this still feels strange.

"How can I help you?" he asks, curtly.

"Name's Commander John Crichton." There, introductions are done. "I'm a friend of Valdis and I'm wondering exactly what your intentions with her are. I found this." He raises to picture of Maxwell to see.

"You know she's already got a boyfriend named Max, right?"

"I was not aware that Ms. Valdis and Mr. Maximum were involved, but I've no intention of encouraging any infidelities between them. I understand contact here is much more familiar than it is in my era. Are you suggesting that what I am doing in this image is overstepping my bounds?"

"How could you not know? You never seen them making goo goo eyes at each other across every room they're in?" He's pretty sure even fucking Arthur Lester can see that.

"I am. You wanna know why?"

"I don't tend to pay too much mind to what others are doing unless it's actively inconveniencing me. Most people tend to annoy me, you see. Especially when they come to me unbidden with aggressive accusations." He's not putting on the charm here, it's Blunt Maxwell hours.

"Do tell."

Crichton prefers bluntness, he didn't come here to be a superspy about it, he came here to get some answers and set up Valdis for getting some too.

"See the date in that bottom corner? Funny thing about it is she doesn't remember anything from that day. So, tell me," he unsheathes his pulse pistol and brings it out of the thigh holster. He isn't pointing it at Maxwell yet, but the threat is clear. "What were you doing with her and why doesn't she remember it?"

"First of all, let me assure you that I did nothing to modify her memories. Secondly, you might consider what she went through just before that day. From what I understand, that particular excursion had a profound effect on a lot of people. And if you must know, we were discussing emergency measures for the ship."

It almost sounds plausible. Valdis, herself, had doubts it was anything more than that. But it still doesn't sit right with him. He doesn't like how smoothly this guy came up with that answer. He's been told it's all in his head before, too. And then it wasn't.

"Maybe you'd like to fill me in on what those emergency measures are?"

"I'd rather not. Part of its efficacy depends on the nature of the action being as poorly understood as possible. This ship runs on emotions, after all. Best not to let anyone brace for emotional impact. But I assure you, I'm acting in everyone's best interests."

Crichton bristles, and the energy around him becomes so charged it almost seems like he's about to start throwing thunderbolts. His grip on the pistol certainly has tightened considerably.

"That wasn't really a suggestion, my man. If you're supposedly doing what's in her best interest, then explain to me why it looks a whole lot like you killed her and left her in the morgue for three days."

Now, the gun actually is pointed at Max. "If you won't say it to me, then you ARE going to say it to her. Just so you know, she ate a guy's heart recently."

"I don't see what gives you the authority to demand I disclose anything to anyone. If Ms. D'Angelo has questions, I'd like her to ask them to me directly."

It's a risky request, but it'll buy him time.

"You know I'm holding a gun, right?" A gun he isn't willing to use.

Frell.

He shoves said gun back into the holster on his thigh.

"That's what I'm saying. She has questions and you're going to give her answers. Here, why don't I send her a message right now, tell her you're willing to talk?"

Yeah, he's doing that. With the same hand that was holding the gun, he now takes out his phone and types a brief text to Valdis.

"There. Done. Let's see what she says."

Not a 'good' enough man to believe he's entirely in the right, and not a bad enough man to pull the trigger on impulse, he thinks.

"Very well. Do tell me when you hear back from her."

His phone chimes and he pauses to read the message. The frown on his face says he doesn't like it, but maybe she's right. He's been the bad cop, now she can be the good cop.

"Great news," he looks up at Maxwell finally. "She's coming to talk to you, herself. If I were you, I would think twice about using any lines about how this is for the greater good when talking to her."

He puts the picture away in his vest front pocket and regards Maxwell with one last hard glare. "You better watch yourself. I'll be paying attention to what you get up to from now on."

"If you must."

Time for him to start getting his story straight.

He's not hopeful that Maxwell is going to tell him anything. Why would he? If he does give him information it will likely be a lie. Ash doesn't have any other options.

After making a pit stop at Photos At Sea he knows who he is looking for.

After wandering the ship he finally spots who he is looking for.

"You're Maxwell?" He asks as he pulls up a chair.

"Yes. I'm Maxwell Carter, the magician. How can I be of help?" Could this be more business, perhaps?

"Magician." He says with a flat tone. "I'm Ashley. I need to talk to you about Valdis."

She warned him against hurting Maxwell and he's determined not to.

"I'm going to tell you what I know. Then you are going to tell me how to fix it."

Ash wasn't in the mood for small talk. Or tip toeing around the issue. They were running out of time.

"I know Tiamat has taken control of her a couple of times recently. I saw the picture of you and Valdis outside of the morgue. I know she died, she knows she died. She woke up with a new scar. She also called you a warlock not a magician." He pauses and sighs. "She is in pain. Thinks she's going crazy. Keeps feeling like something inside
of her is being torn open over and over...and she smells like a dying animal. What did you do to her?"

His eyes are filled with concern. Pleading. "Just tell me how I stop it, please. I can't lose her. I'll do anything."

A look of genuine shock crosses his face.

"She... she's really that unwell?"

"Yes, she is." Ash clearly looks in distress over what is happening to the woman he loves. "I don't want to resort to making threats. She asked me not to hurt you. But the thing is, Max, I'm not a very good man. I will gladly do unspeakable things if I think it's necessary." He leans back in his chair. "Tell me what you did to her. We can fix this without anyone getting hurt."

"Perhaps if it would be of more help if I were to have a look at her myself." He's not about to explain what he did. That would risk revealing his hand.

"How can I trust you to be anywhere near her?"

“You can’t, really. I’m merely offering to do what I can, and you can either take that offer or leave it. But I don’t want Ms. Valdis to be suffering. Truly, I don’t.”

"Fuck." The word is growled out. "I know you did something to her....if you don't want her to suffer tell me how to fix it. I can't trust that you won't make it worse."

"I can't be sure what can and can't be done unless I have a look at her myself!" he snaps back.

"Don't fucking snap at me. You did this. You hurt her." He digs out his phone and texts Valdis.

Still in the library?

He gets up from the chair.

"Let's go. I left her in the library."

Maxwell clenches his fists and stands up without a word, arms stiff at his sides.

"Fine."

He's going to see for himself exactly what's going on.

Edited 2024-01-21 02:45 (UTC)

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The Off-Season [OTA]

Like Butter

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cw: implied surgery

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[Wildcard]

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Bobby B's. Post Tiamat.

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[To Closed w/ Valdis]