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What is a need?

As living things we need air, food, and drink to survive. These loud needs scream and demand for our attention. And yet, we are enraptured in other, quieter needs that do not speak so much as softly pull at us. We need to be clean. We need to look presentable, to ourselves. We need to socialize. And sometimes, we even need things that we do not want. We resist these kinds of needs, and strive to survive without them, and sometimes we do. But, if you can deny one voice in the crowd, why cant you deny another? And soon without satisfying one thing of that which we require, we fail to satisfy anything.

We are left disheveled, dirty, hungry, alone. A question is brought into being, which asks that if you can do without a one of these things, why would you do any? And then if you can exist without any, what is a need?

A need like any other, burned in the chest of one Maximos Lucillien Dark, and yet as much as he knew it needed to be fulfilled he resisted. He was afraid, he was overwhelmed. The scale and size of such a thing should not rest on one man's shoulders. He did not want it too. And yet, it needed too.

There in, we find Maximos standing lost in the center of his own magic shop. Candle light reflected softly off a glass counter filling the room with a glinting pumpkin orange hue. In his hands, rest a stack of papers larger than all but his most enormous tomes. Maximos' mismatched eyes stared bloodshot and dry at a ticking clock hanging on a wall, which told him the very small hours of morning were approaching. Very soon people would be attempting to come through that locked shop door, expecting to receive any one of the unfinished commissions which formed the stack of papers he held. Unfinished, no. In fact, he had not begun even a one of them. He had not begun anything, in days.

Maximos was without a tie, or a jacket. His hair was spiked in all sorts of random directions, matted in unwashed clumps as only a pillow can style ones hair, and yet had not slept either. His hands and nails were stained with paints and powders which marked the intention to, but also failure to, simply begin. Why, his shirt was not even properly tucked in. He set down his stack of papers, standing like an ominous white pillar and moved with an unmotivated lope around the counter, half heartedly lifting the horizontal door and ducking beneath it and then left it to carelessly clap back down. His bare feet shuffled along the cold wooden floor toward the shop door, a hand drifting to his pocket to lazily jingle his keys.

And there was a sound, very similar to the way autumn leaves roll down a road. Maximos stopped in his tracks and turned just in time to watch the bottom half of the white paper tower slide down the curve of his display case as the rest of it already had and flutter haphazardly all over his floor. The entire floor had been painted white by a thousand sheets of paper, save for a few commission sheets that by chance had landed with their printed sides face up. Maximos stared at the floor, as if the room was suddenly brand new and confusing. He didn't look upset as he knelt down in front of the white mess, or exasperated as he reached out and gathered the face-up sheets. He stared at the papers as if they held some sort of secret knowledge, a code, or an answer to life's mysteries hidden somewhere between the white space and black ink. Max drew a single black paintbrush from his back pocket, and licked its tip to get it good and moist. And then, in a single motion he overturned all the face up sheets, and spread them out amongst the others, and began to draw. He started with a large black circle, and then began filling in smaller circles, shapes, letters and...

The excuses had run dry and now, in this quiet morning, Maximos had simply come to realize that he could not do any of this. He needed to do something else first.

But that was months ago.

This need had grown, like all needs inevitably must. Maximos was now knelt in the very same stance, painting something large on the ground. His hair was just as disheveled, his eyes were just as blood shot. He wore a simple blue pull-over hoodie and black slacks but now even his face and clothes were splattered with paints and stains. This was the same. But, this was entirely different. Several feet ahead of him stood the very same ring he had drawn on discarded sheets atop his shop floor, only it had evolved. It hewn in stone now, not paper, carved full of small arcane twists and runes all over its ring shaped surface. Now like the intensifying beat of a melody Maximos simply could not shake, the need had escalated. Where once he alone was drawing a basic design, now beside and around him several other dark silhouettes were busy painting walls with fat wet symbols, or chiseling away at blocks of stone. Some mixed various powders and fluids from a dozen nameless jars into pastes, others spread paste on papers or walls making previously placed symbols explode with glowing life. Magic arced across the room with indigo and violet crackling waves and pops. Every few moments or so, a silhouetted figure seemingly wearing nothing more than a black mask and riding gloves, or even a disembodied floating skull would approach Maximos, the Shadow would deliver a few commands gesturing to a part of the room without ever really looking away from his work.

Beside him, piles of plates and dishes sat. They were refreshed every few hours or so thought they had each barely been touched. As if Maximos had begun eating and then was thoroughly distracted enough to abandon his food and forgot the meal until it was no longer edible.

To the casual observer, Max appeared unchanging, as lost as he was months ago. But there was something about the way he moved. About the fervor in his step when he reached for a new brush, or the quiet desperation when he picked up a length of parchment as long as himself and ordered a Skellion to copy it exactly on a surface as if it were a matter of life and death, despite knowing the creature was incapable of doing anything but his exact command to the letter.

Maximos was consumed, a single overriding passion burning until nothing else existed. Until it hurt just to move his fingers, and it burned like fire to bend his knees, but he could not stop. A labor of love evolved into, simply a labor of desperation. If we deny a need, it can remove all others. But if we over feed a need, can it consume us entirely? Do needs drive us forward? Into oblivion? Maximos was set on an inescapable course, working harder and harder, pushing farther and farther until there was nothing left and beyond. Until ragged flesh and broken bones were beating out magic drawn with blood. Until...

"I'm back."

He heard a voice.

It was so soft. So simple. If it had actually come from this room it would have been drowned out by the noise, but he heard it. And for just that moment, he stopped, as if he could not hear anything else. Skellions and Skullions rushed to his side looking for new commands, he stared back with wide eyes and a wide open mouth but no sound came out.

And then, all at once, Maximos left. He stood up, scooping up his knee length black coat and walked straight for the door. Walter was entering just as Maximos exited holding fresh sandwiches and tea. The stately butler asked where he was going, but Maximos simply stared at him as if he didnt know.

He didn't know. All he knew was he had to be there.

Within minutes, Maximos was briskly walking the streets of Latent, his hood pulled down low and his eyes set to the pavement. He walked like a man in a race to get home, but too proper to actually run. He missed people wandering by, by inches, slipped through crowds like the shadows of his namesake all in an effort to get there. People grumbled and gave him strange looks, and yet seemed to instinctively know that attempting to stop him was perhaps the worst mistake they could possibly make.

Maximos never looked up to see where, there might be. That was, until he found himself standing on the docks of Latent, before the gangplank leading up the Feiruza. His jacket whipped and snapped in the biting sea winds, his hoodie was blown tight against the side of his face leaving just the muted white glow of his eye and the white of his smiling teeth in the moonlight, shining like the edge of a knife.

"Oh siren..." Maximos said, so softly.

And suddenly it all made so much sense. It was just in her nature wasn't it? The rift to Aria still had so much work, but a few little words had pulled him away from his journey. And now look at him? Racing thoughtlessly for the shore just to crash against it and let the whole adventure fall to ruin if it must. Maybe she was a need of some sort, in and of herself. "...My siren."

Could there be anything more dangerous? He should really be turning away now. That was exactly what he thought as he sprinted up the gangplank, climbed up the side of a flight of stairs and began sprinting. By now, she heard him. But by now, he could see her and made his way directly to the door where he pulled back his fist and -

A usual couple meets in romance, and love, like a dream. Soft candles light a room, rose pedals are sprinkled on the ground and on mattresses, gently bubbling wine sits in pair of glasses, and maybe soft inviting music lures a lover into a room full of calm, relaxation, and perhaps an air of sensuality.

All of which Maximos would have found horrifically boring.

Instead, the Shadow found that he was being lead into a nightmare. The ground and walls around him rocked and swayed gently with the lashing tide. The door opened by itself and lead into a dismal room, home to discarded clothes, dull and dim lights casting shadows and amorphous shapes on the walls. His lover was not waiting on a bed in scantily clad lingerie, she was no where. And she was everywhere.

Her voice whispered by his ears, brushed his neck, tickling his senses like so much ice dripped down the back of someone shirt. He both heard her voice and thought her voice. Like a ghost.

And just as he was about to reply, there. Her outline, the shape of her curves and a flash of blue hair. Or so he thought, she was gone before his eyes could focus.

Their inviting music was the bump and scrape of something rubbing along the Feiruza's floor. Something outside, and yet big enough to be heard and to remind him, as a denizen of the library how very close they were to the bottomless abyss of the sea floor and whatever darkness it held. Her darkness. More delicious than any wine, more enticing than any pedals.

A sharp breath filled his lungs, and Maximos hopped back from a long fat vibration under his feet where something traced another taunting path by them. He heard his name, immediately lifting his head, mismatched eyes darting back and forth looking for its source. A wide grin stretched across his face as he spoke.

"You. I'm here for -- " And then he found her. Was she behind him and he missed it, or was she everywhere and then exactly where he was not looking? Her arms wrapped around him, like the first trickles of water before the wave crashes down. In a moment, she crashed into him, and by the very next it felt as if some enormous wall of force had smashed into him and bowled him over ripping his breath from his lungs and his mind from his body in one pass.

The Shadow lurched forward, his open mouth gasping for air. His hands flew to her arms, bruised and stained fingers pressing into her pale white skin as if gripping at life itself. He struggled for support as he began to fall, sinking as if his legs were quickly forgetting how to hold him. It was like dying. And something in it, was more beautiful than just living had been these past few months.

Perhaps, that shock, the sudden uncertainty in anything and everything that surrounded him was exactly what he needed to jolt himself back to life. His gasps faded, his fingers slowly loosed there death grip, leaving only one hand to try and find and hold hers. And then he gave in, letting the force of her heart and soul carry him down...and down...and...

Eventually his eyes opened, blinking away blurs and confusion, failing utterly to separate the real from the imagined. By now he was likely on the floor. He looked up and saw her eyes, just her eyes, staring down at him. Her make up and lingerie were cuts, and gashes on her jaw and arms. He could not see her back from here, but his hand was rising shakily upwards to loop around the back of her neck. And from there, if she would let him, he would pull himself up and crash his face to hers for a long, deep, and hungrily passionate kiss.

A buzzing ran down his spine and made every movement a tingle. Maximos lay on the floor as if he had simply forgotten out to stand. Where once there was weight on his shoulders, back, heart and mind, now there was release. A good sort of emptiness that made room for new and great things. An almost euphoric sense of elation brought a smile to his face that sat there as much a part of himself as his lips and teeth or any other part of him that physical comprised a smile.

He felt her beside him. She stretched and sighed, and then Max reached out and arm to roll her against him again. Where their bodies touched there was a familiar wet warmth of skin on skin. She asked him a question, but at first he didnt hear. Or perhaps, he couldnt place a proper answer.

She was pale. She was perfect. She was marked with slashes, cuts, and other things which may over the next few minutes become red circles not unlike what teeth might make. Idly he spun a thin lock of her hair around his thumb while he delicately ran a few fingers over the two deeper cuts down her back. Maximos had to actively concentrate to remind himself he was here, and this was real.

"Weeks." Maximos answered Lucind, but the syllables just blew from his lips like leaves in a small breeze of breath, drifting somewhere between a statement and a question. In very many ways, this moment was like a car crash for Maximos. The last few months had sped by, blending together days and weeks in a blur of motion going entirely too fast for him to understand, feel, or even fully appreciate any single moment in order to ground himself on a sense of time and then-Wham! It all came crashing to a halt. Like a sedan meeting a semi-truck on a highway going eighty. Everything stopped, like inertia, gravity or any other undeniable force, she drew him in, smashed against him, and over him, and through him. Even now, he could scarcely remember what exactly he was working on back on Shadow Island. Just the goal at hand, not the feverish obsessive details that popped through his mind like the crackles of kindlin in a fire previously.

With his arm around her, time flowed differently. Slowly. Naturally. And all that came before was just a blur rushing by with angry colors. Max looked at her with the clueless sort of crooked smile he gave when she tried to explain fancy things like computers, or cell phones to him.

"Has it been weeks?" He said softly, leaning in just slightly to kiss the blue hair at the top of her hair. "I think I was trying to save the world, or something like that. How about you? What did you do?"

What was it about her? The way she breathed, and bent, the feel of her warmth draped over him, the small peck of her lips, all of these little details that stood out so much. That made him smile so wide.

And when she spoke, he was like a child, lost in story time. She had gone to Azum, and while he had seen flecks of it in a bowl of water, and imagined parts of it in his mind, he still saw it as some sort of Siren wonderland. Mystical, magical in all ways. She found books, and lost books, which in his mind translated to mystical tomes and grimoire's traded and stolen over a magical black market. There were fights, cuts, scrapes, and general adventure.

But then her eyes were so intensely serious, an expression intensified by small cuts and scrapes.

"And -" She said and his breath was caught, waiting on her next words. "I fought unicorns."

"Uwah!?" Maximos' eyes snapped open, he gasped very much like a child shocked and amazed to hear that Santa Claus had been in his room the night before. "Really?! I didnt know those really existed! Is that how you became so hurt? Did you save anything from them?"

"Well..I read."

Maximos said smirking shyly into the kiss. Of course, the majority of his reading involved magical tomes, fantastical stories and legends. He had, of course, heard of unicorns just never on Gaia or Aria. When legends fade off of two whole worlds, even Maximos grew to doubt they existed anymore at all. His mind was rambling, and yet there was a comfort in that. Like walking into a cluttered room filled with old memorabilia. And he owed the entirety of that calming warmth to her. His quirks were not just tolerable tendancies to her, she enjoyed them. She loved them even. Just as he loved her, the way she kissed, the way she laughed when he asked to peruse her library and she found him buried under a pile of said books, and now the way she teased him with the promise of a story.

Maximos loved stories. It showed all over his face, the way his eyes opened up wide, the way a child-like grin split his lips.

"Is...is that a trick question?" He said, smiling ear to ear. His eyes darted to and fro across the dimly lit room searchingly. "Do we need some water?"

Perception can mean everything.

Maximos watched Lucind stand and walk off to fetch water. She left her clothes discarded on the ground a fact which he in no way minded. He looked at her, truly. At first he saw what every man sees, he saw her pale skin, he saw the way angry red lines, and dark blue hair, stood out in stark contrast to milky white. He saw her curves, full, beautiful, even toned, as well as many other adjectives that rushed through his mind and made him grin. But then he saw more.

People speak of loving more than just a persons body, but loving another's soul. And yet how many people truly see that soul? How are ones perceptions changed when the soul was as visceral a thing to you as the flesh? He had felt her soul before, tasted it even as surely as he tasted her just moments ago. And right now, Maximos saw Lucind, he really saw her. He saw the way it ebbed and churned, he saw its calming dark shade, like the sea right after a storm. He the way life coursed through her body, flashing and sparking at various injuries making points of illumination like lights on a tree. There was deep meaning there, mystery, beauty, form. All of it existing both ephemerally and corporeally. What would you do if the impossibility of a dream was real and you could just reach out and touch it? And how would you feel if you actually had, the memory of such still on your fingertips, still burning across your skin. Maximos found himself without words. He just looked, and appreciated, and grew red in the face.

That was, until he saw her freeze, and frown, and then take to examining herself. Max was grinning, grinning so big and wily that when her eyes met his over her shoulder the grin bubbled over into a downright mischievous laugh, and Max rolled from leaning on his side and elbow his face leaning on his hand to laying on his back. Or rather, laughing Maximos laid back until his back actually made contact with the wood of the Feiruza's floor at which point several long red furrows drawn down his back immediately shouted out at him. His breath caught, stopping his laughs cold and making him gasp sharply until he finally settled flat against the floor...and then started chuckling again. He didnt mention the marks themselves, but he did call out, "Well played."

Through a few soft laughs. And then he sat up, as she handed him a silver bowl. Everything about the way this ship, and all things Sirenian Maximos had seen in his time with Lucind worked was always so different. There were no arcane circles or formal spells, no vulgar magic displays. All of it seemed to flow. Lucind's soft words, the way the ship obeyed without question. Although it felt as if it might have had a few unspoken complaints. It sort of made Max smirk. He remembered how the vessel had seemed downright rebellious before, and yet it seemed she had rather neatly whipped it into shape. The spirit of an entire vessel. It actually made him feel sort of proud.

When she sat next to him, he immediately smiled at her. Her touch was soothing, as were her eyes on him. At first, until he realized she was not simply looking lovingly into his eyes but looking distinctly at him. Her thumb moving across his face followed closely by her eyes. And he knew, without words, exactly what she saw. He saw it in every mirror and reflective surface over months. A face weary and warn. He said he could sleep, eat, and everything else more when it was done. It didnt look that bad. He was okay. Explanations all held meaning to him, right then. But she saw better.

His smile faded to a small line across his face, and he was glad when she began filling the bowl. He looked bit dour as she sung, his eyes a bit less fascinated on the water rising, falling and forming itself in a new shape. That was, until he finished at which her last few words caught his ears and without skipping a beat his eyes opened wide and as his face split in a wide boyish grin he said. "Wha!? You have cookies and milk too?!"

And thusly, answered her question.

There were a few things about Maximos that no amount of stress or decay could change. A certainly stately nature remained pervasive in all of his actions, even worn as he was, when Lucind handed him the folded mass of black silk the Shadow went about neatly unfolding it and examining it. He ran the cloth through his fingers, he examined the stitching and even brought the sequins, then beads, and embroidery close to face so as to catch their every little detail while nodding in recognition of Lu's explanation. Someone less learned in his ways might have thought he was searching from some par of quality, but the opposite was true. Max was appreciating all the finery of the cloth. And then holding the garment by its shoulders he spun it with something of a flourish, slipping on both arms and finally as it came to rest he set to tying it about his waist with a somewhat gaunt but pleased smile.

He could count on exactly no fingers or toes the amount of times he and Lucind had ever dressed identically, but for the moment the idea was novel and he enjoyed it.

Unicorns, living in any amiable way with humans seemed so far fetched, and yet so did the existence of unicorns themselves. Needless to say, he was fascinated. It seem, almost completely true to Max's nature, he began sampling the fruits first, then the nuts, and finally took a sip of the milky liquid without any recognition of how hungrily he was shoveling the snacks into his mouth, or how eagerly he finished half the serving of milk in a single gulp. Max for the intelligence he seemed to profess, seemed to lack any understanding of his own limitations. As if in response to the small pause between Lucind's sip and activating the water screen he cocked his head slightly to the side and asked, "...is this unicorn milk?"

But he didnt wait for an answer, his mismatched eyes slid down to the screen and the images of Azum. He would have to ask about what tomes she had found later, for now he smiled at pictures of Fezi and Larhien and then...a baby. While the Shadow would do his best to hide it, Lucind was more or less a master of dealing with hidden feelings. The way Max smiled but only part way, the way he nodded in acceptance, but looked momentarily away from the screen, it was rather clear the Shadow was uncomfortable. In many way, babies were the antithesis of Maximos. New fresh life, coming in to a dark painful world, he felt bad for them. He did not know whether to be happy for them, or offer condolences and usually just followed the reaction of the nearest person to him. He was however surprised to actually hear Larhien speak. And waved back to the watery vision rather cheerfully.

Huge bugs she said. Huge! He laughed because it was an almost adorable reaction. That was until he actually saw them, his face froze mid laughter and a chill ran down his spine. Maybe he didnt want to visit Azum as much as he originally thought he did...

In a culture where eating takes place as often as it does for any Arian, a good portion of the success of a meal is often dependent on how long it holds back ones hunger. The rest was flavor. Of course good flavor with no substance was a failure. That said, Max originally believed the milky drink and snacks to be delicious but...perhaps too filling. But then there was a warmth that started in his center and spread out over his person, all the way down to his fingertips, left him feeling rather refreshed. Or...maybe that was from watching Lu lick her lips. It was hard to tell.

None the less, the levity was curtailed when Lu's smile faded and the grim realization of her words set in. Honestly, despite all of his time with Death and the end of life, for Maximos death was still very much an individual thing. Over time, people died. He had a bit of difficulty wrapping his mind fully around the concept of a whole race fading into memory because of the heartless sickle of time. Maximos' smile flattened to a straight line, he met the siren's eyes straight on and nodded.

But as abysmal as the fate of her people might seem, Lu never seemed to let it really get her down. She was up and on to business and Max, watching her walking away found his mind wondering what she might be doing, or reading. He wondered what the look on her face meant, what did the change in the hues and lights on her face signify, what was she...

...and then he stopped. He was doing it again, letting his mind run on and off into the ether searching for the mystery behind the facts inside the problem and...no where. The Shadow shook his head, he stopped analyzing Lucind and just looked up at her, he really looked at her. Not the creature with the magical voice, control over souls, and supersonic hearing. He looked at her, the woman. The gentle slant of her jaw, the soft curve of her cheek, the way the lights moved in muted shades of green and blue across her pallid skin outlining her features against the dark. He smiled, moving his hand through dark blue hair and he just let himself enjoy how lucky he was for a few seconds.

When she came back, he knew she was troubled. He knew from the sound of her voice and the mention of Fezi that the little siren may have been the source of her difficulty and she preferred to move, but there was really nothing he could do or say. He had never raised a teenager, by any sort of civilized standards he had never really even been a teenager. What Max did do was shuffle over closer to her, give her a soft kiss on the lips and then smile brightly into her eyes. He didnt need to say he was there when she wanted to talk, he just made it very clear where he would be when she was ready.

For now it was, w--

"--What the fleeb is that?!" That - was a four-legged creature with a horn. Yes, a single horn, and yes the animal resembled a horse but-

"Oh, its sickly. That explains it." Max recognized the signs of death approaching even lacking magic with the same familiarity with which Lucind might recognize him walking down a street even with his back turned. Even before the image zoomed in he saw the greasy sheen of its coat and the distinctly unhealthy way its skin seemed to sag like a soggy old leather bag. This was not natural.

In truth, despite his tolerance for such fits of gore Max felt his stomach churn and threaten to heave. Had it not been empty, it might have emptied right then and there. Max had seen many things die, but these creatures were meant to be the very epitome of purity and life. Their blood was said to heal wounds and grant immortality, their horn a weapon of fearful destruction for all things touched by evil. But it had been made impure, desecrated.

The creature jumped under Lu's soft touch and Max's face contorted into a tight grimace and wanted to look away but he was drawn to the screen. He had to know what came next, even though the answer was right beside him sharing the story. He was soothed to hear she freed the creature, that it was finally at pea--

--And then it stood up. Max's face went flat. He looked at the screen for a few silent seconds then turned to look at Lucind, and just as flatly say. "Undead. Undead lead mare...of the unicorns. You neglected to mention undead."