maskormenacelogs | Why change the past...

Entry tags:

† maxwell trevelyan | inquisitor

Why change the past...

WHO: Maxwell and You Maybe? ~~Call Him Baby~~
WHERE: Base One, Nonah, and ...around
WHEN: April
WHAT: Various slice-of-life nonsense
WARNINGS: Minor drug reference/use in the Archie thread.

Base One, Nonah:

Work on Maxwell's apartment had stopped during the lost, looped week, both because there had been more important things to see too, and because on the one day he'd tried to take for himself - when it had all become so much - it had all reset, all his work lost, the next day. But now he was back at it.

Generally in the morning, in the early light and late at night when sleep alluded him, with the freshly risen sun or moon shining in on him and leaving little gemstones of color on his skin as it streamed through the window he was carefully painting into a mosaic arch. His door slightly open to allow the smell of paint to drift along with his voice, gently rising and falling as he hummed and sung to himself by turns.

A Hardware Store, Nonah:

Maxwell's in the paint section, trying to decide on wall colors. He has a paint card in a soft, misty blue-gray already selected, peeking out from the back pocket of his jeans, but now he's dallying over two others - one in each hand.

"Butter Yellow... Cool Cucumber...." he muses aloud, then shakes his head. "Am I putting it on a wall or eating it?"

~.~

When his purchase is finally squared away, he's outside, settling his new wares into a leather pack. Beside him, a horse waits. A green horse. A green horse make seemingly of nothing more than color and air, cars flashing by through it's belly as it patiently waited for Maxwell to climb aboard.

Seemingly.... but not, it turns out, as it swishes it's long waterfall of a tail and swats a passerby.

Elsewhere:

[Want to bump into Maxwell and/or his mount somewhere else? He has horse, will travel! Just let me know.]

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Is that horse supposed to be glowing? He's still relatively unfamiliar with every single earth creature, though he's seen horses before - that doesn't look normal. Bodhi stops to get a better look at the glowing and almost whisp looking horse and is so surprised by the very solid tail he'd come into contact with.

"Geez -" he backs away a little quickly, looking to Maxwell. "Are you aware that your horse looks a little bit ... ah, green?"

He's not as funny as he actually believes.

Maxwell looks up at the little snap, eyes flicking between the horse and Bodhi quickly, assessing.

"Did it get you? I'm sorry." He offers a friendly smile, relieved - how upset can Bodhi really be if he's making bad jokes? "Don't worry, it's not contagious."

"What?" Bodhi looks up sharply, shaking his head. "Oh, no it's fine. Barely got me, I uh - just got a bit too close to look."

Not like he nearly ran him down and gave him a dirty look like some of the car drivers do. He brushes it off, it's no harm done, really. "So, this is how you get around, yeah... mystical horse?"

Maxwell buckles his bag and shrugs.

"We don't have those--" he nods toward the street, "--where I'm from. It's either horse-power, or foot-power." He pats the horse's neck - solid, despite how it looked - and starts tying the pack to the saddle. "Granted, our horses are less see-through. That's the Porter's doing."

It's nice that Maxwell has found something nice to do with his time, to help with the fresh trauma of the loops and the old trauma of his experience with the Inquisition. Doubtless, the window he's painting is coming together to look absolutely beautiful and pull the room together flawlessly.

Anyway, there's a knocking on his door, then a shout.

"Open up, dingus!"

Ah, the voice of kinship - joyous and strong... and like the braying of an ass.

Maxwell grins, and carefully darkens a line of paint.

"What's the magic word?"

"Let me in or I'll kick the door down!"

A pause.

"Regardless of Poe's wrath at breaking his shit!"

Maxwell studies his work for a moment, then drops his brush into the little pot of paint.

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect. Please try again."

Picking up a rag to wipe his hands with, he starts for the door.

"And it's my shit, thank you."

What comes next is a very impressive whine.

"Maxweeeeeeeeeeelll!"

...

"Fine, fine. Maxwell is a handsome genius whom I only barely have the fortune to gaze upon, let alone be in his apartment. Also, the magic word is Nuggins, obviously."

The door swings open, Maxwell grinning on the other side.

"And don't you forget it." He steps back and gestures Archie in. It's still sparse, but he's been slowly adding. There are stools in the kitchen nook by the counter now, and a small couch in the main living space. "Apologies for the smell, the paint is still fresh."

On a low, small table his designs are spread out. Both or the in-progress window, and for the ceiling he hasn't even started on - dark, swirling colors and patterns of dots in other-worldly constellations.

Archie beams at Maxwell when the door opens. he's holding a small Tupperware container in one hand, small enough for him to easily hug Maxwell up, almost lifting him off the ground. His patented bear hug.

"Looks good!" he says, following the man in and looking them over. "How's it comin' along?"

A pause. Archie looks around. "Where's the kitchen? I got a special buncha cupcakes for ya."

"Slowly." He bobs his head in a vague nod, glancing around at his work. "I'm still trying to decide how to mange the ceiling. Is tying a ladder to spirit horse cruel?"

Was it even feasible? He'd yet to try, more concerned with the former.

But the question drops as Archie mentions cupcakes.

"Oh? Is there some sort of cake-giving-occasion I've missed?"

"It... might be? Why don't ya just get one of those rollers with the huge handles?"

Archie wonders, briefly, how they do ceilings where Maxwell comes from. Magic? It seems most likely.

"Not really, unless you wanna take 'em as reward for your hard work. I had 'em left over-- they're special. They got the good kush in 'em."

He looks up.

"That works for a base color, but for details...." He sighs and lets it go - a minor problem for another day.

He leads Archie into the little kitchen and reaches for a cupboard. It's bare inside for a strange collection of kitchenware he'd determined to be immediately necessary. A trio of thick plates, each glazed a different color - red, blue, and green; and a number of chunky mugs - more than the plates - in a deep, buttery yellow.

He pulls two down (for lack of another other glasses, minus the two he has for wine, which are sitting beside the sink), figuring Archie for a drink.

"I'll take your word for it, as I don't know what that is."

"Maybe ask Blue to borrow Exeggutor. He could levitate you with his Psychic, probably."

What was that about Maxwell's world being weird with magic, Archie?

"Tea, please," he says, deciding to forego his usual coffee dependance for Maxwell's sake. He knows about the preference.

"Marijuana? Weed?" A beat. "Okay, honestly, it is genuinely a drug. It's a harmless one-- people just smoke or eat it to chill out a bit. Not a hallucinogenic or anythin'. Just thought you might need it, after the time loop bullshit."

He turns for his kettle, arching a brow as he fills it with water. He watches, listening, Archie with mild bemusement, then his other eyebrow joined the first by his hairline.

"Oh, so like elfroot then? Medicinal."

"Yeah. It is medicinal. Sometimes," he says with a shrug. Archie's no doctor, he doesn't know the medical uses for it, really. He's just a useless stoner.

"You can toss 'em if you don't like them, I won't be offended."

"Elfroot's the key ingredient in health potions, though it's been known to be used on it's own."

Known to, as if he didn't damn well know himself.

"Leave them," he smiles and gestures to the counter with one hand - the other busy making tea. "I'm not offended either."

"Oh, you stoney macaroni!" he says with a loud laugh. Maxwell does not seem like the type at all (despite Archie bringing some over, he's a bad influence) but he can see him getting wild in his teen days.

...Assuming Maxwell wasn't born as a fully educated adult. He wonders, sometimes.

"Leave them I shall. What're you painting?"

He arches an eyebrow, but feels no need to elaborate. His use of elfroot was his own business.

He sets the kettle on the stove and gestures for Archie to follow him down the length of the apartment. In his bedroom, he points to the window.

"In my quarters at Skyhold, all the windows had been beautiful stained glass archways. This isn't the same--" he smiles and shrugs, "--but I like it."

He follows, looking around at the little things in the apartment. It's his first time, after all.

"Hey, I lived in a cave before comin' here. My standards are just having windows," he says with a laugh, but takes a moment to look at them properly. Clearly appreciating the artwork. "Looks like it's coming along well. Is it meant to tell a story or just look pretty? Or both?"

"This?" he points at the window again, then shakes his head. "Just color to catch the light."

Sometimes, he thought, it was alright if that was all a thing was. Simply pretty.

"If you want something deeper--" he inclines his head for Archie to follow him to the table where his plans for the ceiling lay in rough sketches. He picks up one piece of paper and holds it out. It's a series of dots, forming a rough shape. A constellation. "Draconis, or 'High Dragon.' I plan on putting it and the others here on the ceiling."

He nods - Archie can draw, sure, but he doesn't consider himself an artist. At least his knowledge encapsulates how colours work. Sort of. He does not mention that it could use more blue.

"High Dragon..." he repeats. "Is it double-headed? There's a double-headed Pokémon back home called Zweilous... they're known for being incredibly strong-willed and intelligent. I know it's not a Zweilous, but it still fits. Even if it's, uh. One headed."

He laughs.

"No, just the one, fortunately." He takes the sketch back and it returns back to its fellows (a spindly archer, with long stick limbs; a great tree with spidering roots and branches). "Trust me, one's all they need. Ours are also--" a beat, and then a grin, "--strong-willed, let's say."

[OOC: This is obscenely old, but I couldn't not tag it once I found it again. Feel free to ignore.]

"Yeah, I guess two fire-spewing maws are worse than one."

He shudders lightly. If that mega-Salamence had had two heads...

"Not friendly, then?" he asks, eyebrow cocked. "They talk a lot in some of the stories here. What are they like for you?"

"If they do, it isn't a language anyone has spoken in a very long time," Maxwell muses as he turns back toward the kitchen. "...Or survived in a very long time. It's mostly--"

He lifts a hand, gesturing away from his lips in a mimed explosion.

"--Fire, and ice, and lightning."

"Ain't that always the way..."

Archie lingers, looking at Maxwell's artwork a little longer.

"...Anger, calm and-- shock? Nailed it. The only three emotions in existence."

An electric type dragon, though... he'll have to ask Blue if there's a Pokémon like that.

Maxwell laughs as he turns around the counter to life the kettle from the tea stove.

"I think you might be missing some? Love, happiness-- What I wouldn't have given for a Happy dragon."

"Oh, right..."

He rubs his beard, thinking.

"What about... like nature stuff for happy?" A beat. He sorts. "Imagine one with antlers. That'd be a ...happy dragon."

"They have those!" He glances up from pouring steaming water into mugs. Then his shoulders lift and his head tips. "Well, not antlers, but horns. They vary from dragon to dragon, but they're all impressive."

"We've uncovered the secret last emotion..."

A dramatic pause. He's going to make the joke, because he's terrible.

"They're horny."

Maxwell sighs heavily at Archie's pun, so very hard done by, but his mouth twitches despite himself.

"I considered it," he admits, "but I figured lust was less emotion and more -- physical."

"Bad dragons indeed," he says with a nod, not sure if Maxwell will get that one. That one's for Archie.

It's... not clear if Maxwell gets it. He looks at Archie for a long beat. His eyes twitch a fraction narrower.

"Indeed," he agrees solemnly.

He might not get the joke, but he knows Archie well enough to know there's a punchline somewhere. That counts for something, right?

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Why change the past...

hardware store

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base one

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awful bold to assume i would ever drop any of your tags

I am for shame

!!!

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