Welcome to Gaia! ::

You are seriously not crazy... a tad strange, but not crazy, although you might wish you were! It was like a ghostly voice on the wind.. only John owed this voice a boon, and prying was practicaly in her job discription!

besides, her author had been watching this story all unfold and had the desperate need to poke her nose in like the pest she was well known as! 4laugh

Now, why do I have the strange feeling that there is much more to this than meets the eye?

"...Tastes like grass..."

Maximos nodded, and moved up to the stairs of the carriage behind Tomorrow. "Like that, it really does. The tea is splendid however, I've just never been a fan of proverbial health po...tions..."

He let his words trail off as he, in turn, watched Tomorrow trail off. The other man seemed like he was about to give out any moment. Perhaps he had suffered enough trauma the leaf was acting like a sedative to keep calm while it did its restorative work. It could heal the fresh and bleeding wounds, even clear certain sorts of blockages in the bodies natural flow. Anything old and scarred however was lost to its capabilities. John must have been worse off that Max even imagined. His brow creased and his lips turned in a slight downward curve as he realized this.

And then John snapped his head up suddenly - they hadn't left yet. He had only been asleep for a second. "Horses...the horses, your horses..." He said suddenly. "Tell me about them...how did you make them, why haven't you named them....I must stay awake..."

Maximos was slow to answer at first, he nodded in the slow steady manner of a fishing bob rising and falling with calm laps of the tide. He sat down, straightening out his pant legs and said, "Its rather cold in Guldor. Maybe even for you, especially in this condition. Before we leave I'll have Walter get you something..."

Tomorrow had a T-shirt, which Maximos knew he had a pension for losing and pants. They were going to one of the coldest places on the planet...it might not due. Not to mention, cold usually equated to sleep and, the Shadow simply gestured to John and said. "...more."

A slight pause, and then he suddenly clapped his hands and said, "Alright!"

In a tone a bit louder than it needed to be. "You want to know about my horses? I'll tell you all about my horses."

Max brought his hand down until it was flat and even with his knees and said. "When they came to the island they were this big. They were flesh and blood ponies, beautiful creatures."

The carriage was open, no roof but a U shape allowing for two long cushioned seats and doors on either side. Max gestured out to one of the grass field of the island and said. "They just loved to run wild just over there, galloping in the wind like they had no a care in the world. They ate the freshest food, and lived like horses dream of living."

And then his face turned sour. "A few times they came to fast and to close to the edge and slipped off, but either Walter or I were always close enough to perform a stately rescue. They were like family John, family."

"I've been told horses reach their peak between three and a half to four years of age. And that was when I needed them." Max, still smiling, laid his hands in his lap and spoke rather cheerfully. A bit up beat for the Shadow, but acceptable. "They are brother and sister, and on her fourth birthday the order I had placed for the marble came in."

Max even reached and knocked his knuckles against one of the horses cold stone rump to emphasize the point. "They always galloped together, but on this day with a combination of nightmare based fear tactics and brute forced I separated them into different areas of the island. Five by five boxes, just enough for them to stand without having room to lay or move beyond a twitch."

Max's head rolled slightly to the side, he looked as if he was nostalgically remembering something beautiful. His face was as much a match to his words as red patches on fresh snow. "The marble was bisected into twelve chunks each a different size, six for each horse. One belonging to each major section, for each limb, a large block for the head, a large chunk for the torso. So forth."

He looked down at his hands, absently checking his nails and continued. At some point the carriage began to move, steadily rolling toward the island's edge and then off of it, racing along the sky. "While the oldest, him, watched, each section was used to rather savagely beat, break and break and break again. This is really delicate work! If too much is done at a time, the beast loses too much blood, or loses consciousness and the process is ruined. It had to be slow and purposeful but complete."

Max held up his hands as if holding a bat, making phantom swings at the air. His face still wearing that friendly, casual, aplomb. "I broke each leg first, right at the knee, then the ankle. She screamed, her brother thrashed in his cage. It was very distracting, so then with it maimed and lame, I used the largest block to shatter its hips and shoulders and each of its ribs. It wanted to scream but the act hurt too much, so she groaned pathetically instead. Then I went to work."

The clouds looked so serene, so beautiful and perfect like floating patches of cotton you could reach out and run your hands through, while Maximos described horror. "A bludgeoning weapon could only do so much. After its limbs were bent and broken and laid in haphazard manner, I had to do the rest by hand. I had to take the remaining lengths of bone and snap them, like twigs. Over, and over. Each time she jerked spasmed like an epileptic, and her brother thrashed as wild as could be."

Max made motions with his hand for each description like snapping twigs in his hand, and then continued the motions matching his words as he continued to speak. "The point of this was to remove all hope of healing in the limbs, to remove their life so that it focused on a central location. Next was the torso, and with the way the life was violently removed kept the creature panicked and alive. That life was key."

He smiled. "I broke her ribs next, one by one, then pushed them until I felt resistance and a pop, removing organs one by one, puncturing her innards. Soon all that was left was a set of pained and panicked eyes staring up at me filled with anger and betrayal."

He shook his head. "Dont worry. She didnt stare for long. I had to use the last stone to smash her head in. It popped, like a long wide watermelon. Her spirit was broken, which of course is what I needed."

Absently, almost proudly, Max grinned and gestured to one of the horses. "I ripped that spirit away before it could pass on to peace, I understand the feeling is like having ones body consumed with fire and then drowned in burning ice, and then froze in that moment I placed it in the stone."

Max in turn gestured to the other horse. "Well, by the time I reached him, he had beaten around inside of his cage for so long, scared and angry that he had already done a good share of my work for me. Alas, you know me John. I had to be thorough."

"Snap. Pop. Squish. Splat." Max said the sounds like a child describing what sounds his breakfast cereal made. "And here they are, with enough emotion to drive them to run and run for me forever. Very successful. But..."

Only now, did Maximos frown. And even then, the gesture seemed to be put on at best. Meaningless, but present. A face, not a feeling. "I dont know what to name all of that. What titles could fit that? What do you think John? Suggestions?"

"...You're joking, of course." John said slowly, his smile soft on his drowsy face. "...Nobody could be that cruel. Especially not you. Come now. Tell me the truth, and I will help you name them..."

To Maximos credit, he held that curious smile for a good moment after John spoke. He even began to lift his eyebrows in an 'I'm-not-sure-I-know-what-you-mean' sort of way. But then, a smile stretched across his face and he settled back in his seat, the truth in Tomorrow's guess written all across Max's face before he spoke.

"No, I suppose your right. Not without a good reason anyway." He folded one of his legs over the other. "It just seemed more a involving tale than just telling you about a couple of weeks spent carving a large marble cube into the shape of two horses and then infusing it with a little magic...dont you think?"

Another wave of his hand, like dusting an invisible slate clean. "Your exhausted John, look at you. Doubtless when we get to Guldor I'll need you a bit more spry and it'll be a good while, why not just take a nap. I promise to wake you when we arrive."

Maximos listened.

Then he smirked.

Then he laughed.

It was always astounding how these two men could get along so very well and yet seem at times to miss each other entirely. How they ever arrived on the same page must have been some sort of evidence toward the existence of divine comedy. Or perhaps, just comedy. Maximos found it rather funny.

When Tomorrow finished, Maximos raising the back of his hand to his mouth to stem his laughter, began to speak. There was no malice or antagonistic edge to his voice or his laugh, just a soft sort of amusement. "I didnt say the story was supposed to be interesting my friend."

He scooted himself along his seat until he was at the edge of the carriage, at which point he leaned awkwardly over to the compartment he had opened earlier and pulled out what appeared to be a large black leather bag and set in on the plush seat beside him. "I said, it seemed more involving. Which is to say that you needed something to keep you awake, so serenity and beauty I imagined would put you to sleep. I never hoped you would enjoy it."

The back opened with the pop of a few buttons and Maximos began rifling through it. The shade of night and its flap obscuring a clear view of its contents. He looked back after a moment of digging and said. "Dear me, I dont believe even you can be that macabre. I honestly expected it would get you angry, like everything related to my darker deeds has in the past. An unpleasant sentiment, I agree."

Max pulled from the bag what looked like a small coffin, just the right size for a baby or very small child, made of black and grey woods. It was old, as visible by various divots and slight wounds in its surface too deep to sand away, but it was also extremely well taken care of. Polished, dusted, and mostly pristine. "But, very contrary to being asleep, yes?"

Another dismissive wave. "Regardless, I like those, Nótt and Máni. Those are excellent names, thank you John. Now..."

Max delicately popped open a set of latches on his side of the coffin case, and opened it wide across his lap so that its lid hung down over his knees. Inside, was a dark wooden violin and matching bow. It was spotless and as perfect as the day it was made. It had been polished so well it was almost reflective in the moonlight. He had nodded to everything the other man had just said, especially about hallucinations and grounding himself. And while he did Max very carefully ran his fingers over the violin's surface, then slipped them down beside the instrument toward the bow and said, "Well then how about some music? Music always helps."

Whoosh!

You could almost hear the two men miss each other. Maximos' point lost as surely as something would be were it tossed off the carriage. He could see it in the other man's face. For a moment, Max just looked at his friend with a small smile on his face. Maybe after all this John's brain would work differently and they could understand each other. Maybe not.

Regardless, because as the Shadow drew the violin carefully from its case, he was preparing himself to 'speak' as it were, in a universal language. He held the instrument in one hand, brought it up to his shoulder...

"...Aye. Play something....and I might find voice to sing a song in return." ...and stopped.

"Well...then maybe I had better not..." He said, and paused a moment. It was a joke of course, if Maximos had no appreciation for a singing voice he would not be in a relationship with a Siren. He chuckled softly, resting the instrument properly on his collar, and lifting the bow, about ready to draw it across the strings.

"I wrote this for home, as I knew it." Max said tentatively before beginning. "It reminded me of Aria, and so I named it such."

His eyes closed, he took in a long deep breath and let out a slow calm one. And then, Maximos began to play.

It was a slow melody, calming, relaxing, and yet...well, the notes spoke for themselves.

They told a story of peace, of quiet, of sadness. Of something comforting and close to the heart, and yet all together of something lost. Not lost like keys, or even like faded love. Lost, like the notes of a song. Soft whispers that touch the ear then fade away into memory, perhaps, never to be heard again. Perhaps, to be played in ones memory and heart, over and over again. And each time a haunting bridge played, or a small repeating interlude it carried that same feeling. Maximos played with his eyes closed. A bittersweet melody for a bittersweet memory that came gently, rose and then fell away.

And after a few minutes, the song ended and the memory like the melody was gone.

Without any words, Maximos set the violin back down in his lap, leaning it carefully in the plush inside of its case. He looked at John, and without saying a thing, simply smiled.

Maximos chuckled softly and said. "I imagine there are alot of things you do not know I can do. But I'm glad you enjoyed it."

And then, it seemed, the travel drifted into quiet. John had drifted into a quiet, lulled silence. Max imagined he was sleeping. Tomorrow had expressed a certain amount of fear when it came to sleeping, but everything was peaceful enough. He considered waking him, he even leaned forward with a free hand and was about to poke the other man's shoulder just a breath away, John began to speak.

Low at first, mumbles and a rumble in the chest and then words. Words that too on rhythm and melody and could very quickly be recognized as song. John had a powerful sort of voice, he could imagine him standing on the bow of a large ship about pillage a coast and calling this out to invigorate the fleet. In all fairness, he never knew John could do that.

But by its very end, by the final three words, Maximos found himself so utterly caught off guard that he had not even realized Tomorrow had stopped singing, not until the other man woke up...and ruined his upholstery. Ragnarok. Must. Flow.

Really, what could be more unsettling for a Reaper than to hear one of your best and closest friends, a person like a brother to you, sing of the apocalypse...and to automatically know what role you must play if these events truly come to pass. John would awake to find Maximos less than visibly started. Infact, the Shadow looked calm. Too calm. The sort of calm one inflicts on themselves to help manage a situation, a difference that the casual observer might miss but someone like John likely would not.

Max replied in a soft, even tone. His words flat, as if he had pressed and squeezed them that way. "You werent asleep."

Maximos said, adjusting the violin case in his lap slightly without breaking eye contact. "You were singing."

"You sung, that by Odin's will, Ragnarok must flow." Maximos said, his face cold, his eyes sharp and yet empty, like a sword with no wielder. The face of a Reaper, of death. He stared at Tomorrow, the other man's posture, his face, his every detail. The bulk of the man, that golden hair. Even now he could remember fighting him. Just sitting here he recalled how it felt to dig a blade into the rubbery thick flesh. And yet the memories were not cold and calculating, as violent as it was it was the start of their friendship.

A friendship. A brotherhood. Alot had changed. Maximos knew many people and over the years, alot of people had come to know him and yet...he had so few real, trusted friends, and no living blood relatives. The very force he had served and plucked them all away, one at a time. He had been there for all of it, and finally...the great equalizer of time took away his home. And this was his lot.

The Shadow wore a mask, of flesh and skin and bone. His face unreadable and mysterious and...

...all at once that just fell apart.

The edges of his still lips pulled down, and his face fell into his hands.

"Why does this have to happen to me?" Max said, and if Tomorrow listened closely one could even swear his voice teetering right on the edge of a sob. "I didnt ask for this...not like this..."

There was something like a sniffle and his hands ran down his face, his eyes were dry but he looked anything but composed. His frown a deep downward curve that seemed to be steadily attempting to rise at its ends into some sort of horribly tragic smile but failing miserably. "I'm supposed to right the wrongs in the system. End a life to save a life or lives. I can do that. I do, do that. I have to do that. I'm trying to make the best of a bad thing born of my weakness. Is that so bad?"

For once, it actually appeared as if Maximos was pleading to John to stop something the other likely didnt even truly understand, as the story had never been told to him. "But it just has to come to this, my closest friend just has to start singing about the end of the world. Or teetering on the edge of madness and self-imposed ruination and I can do nothing because of what you are."

He stopped, shaking his head, biting his bottom lip as if to stop it from quivering. "I...care."

The Shadow said, as if the word took force to admit. "But I...cannot save you."

His eyes fell down, his breaths coming out ragged. An open confession to Tomorrow and the open empty sky. "I...can only end...you."

And then, eyes down, head shaking side to side, he said. "I'm trying, I swear I am. But please dont look at me like that...dont make this more difficult than it has to be John, please."

Max tried to smile, it was a weak and little thing at best. A partial upturn of the lips that didnt quite reach the cheeks or eyes. But at the very least he tried. He looked John right in his bloodshot eyes.

He did not blink. If the eyes were the window to the soul then John's words were a calming breeze flowing through that very window, and Max dare not shut it. John was so fragile right now, weaker than he had even seen him and even despite the Life Leaf. Part of him, honestly worried that if he shut his eyes even for a heartbeat, Tomorrow would be gone when he opened them. He had seen many, many things in their final moments. Some inflicted, some natural...he could feel it, smell it in the air, taste it on his tongue like the pungent moldy tang of grave soil.

But he had to accept it. As sure as John's grip on the back of his head. He fought back the sadness, the regret, and the tension building up in his chest, right where he was poked, as if he had suddenly swallowed a beach ball. It was all he could do, as he watched the other man sink back into his chair and off to sleep. Sleep, he had to remind himself. Rest was probably for the best.

The least he could do was make it comfortable. Max stared at John for a few long moments, reassuring himself the other man was still breathing, and then scooped up the violin in his lap once more and began to play. It was a quiet, soothing sort of melody. Like a lullaby...or a funeral march. Only now did he realize how similar those two really were.

But he played on anyway.

((I'll put the next post in Guldor.))