its-max-okay

[its-max-okay]

HAN CASSIUS​:

There’s something very amusing about the frown he’s managed to produce on the woman’s lips, and it makes Cassius laugh, entertained. He rather likes Max. She’s not three layers of fake smiles and double meanings, her dissatisfaction (with him) isn’t hard to parse, and Cassius finds it oddly endearing. Spades always tended to veer a little to close to high-strung for Cassius’ tastes, but perhaps they weren’t so bad after all. The least he could do was supply her with yet another frown-inducing response, something to remember him by.

Cassius has been through the motions of this conversation quite a few times throughout his life, and the deep rut he’s dug himself into over his lifetime shows in his unrelenting stubbornness to maintain his worldview. “It’s as you said, they know her for her art, not for her human-ness. Being human will never make you significant, or special. When we take away all the fun tricks that come with talent and leave ourselves with differentiations like elementalist or human or emitter, we’re left with reality: that at its foundation, humans are insignificant”. At the very core, he is insignificant (and rotten and toxic and-). Humans who aren’t insignificant, aren’t worthless, are nothing but an exception; a tiny outlier in the overwhelming evidence that states the opposite.

Sure, here and there exists humans who are perhaps considered significant. But Cassius knows one thing for certain: he is not one of them.

(notably, the question at the centre of this all, why, remains unanswered).

“Enough of humanity,” another tray of tiny cakes passes by and this time Cassius takes two, offering one to Max, “it’s a boring topic, isn’t it? Not a single enjoyable aspect about us”. He grins, no longer the disarmingly off smile from earlier, “Eat some cake instead, I want to try all the flavours so I can brag to all of my annoying coworkers when I go to work tomorrow; make sure they know what they missed”.

　　　　➵　fin.

[its-max-okay]

TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS zhang maxine’s brave new world

As 2021 stretched on and ultimately drew to a close, Zhang Maxine couldn’t find more apt words to describe her situation than “left adrift.” Forced to confront the fact she’d placed more faith in her relationship with Anton -- and their potential future -- than she’d previously cared to admit, Max spent a little over a year struggling with finding her new course. With her second blessing it was easy to retrain all of her attention on her work. Study and practice became the primary focus, throwing herself into healing others where she still couldn’t manage to mend her own fresh scars.

Her relationships didn’t necessarily suffer, but nor did they thrive. Max never really recovered from a general sense of malaise that ended up dulling her typically relentless social engagements. She became a little more private and a little more withdrawn, even -- perhaps especially -- with Jihoon.

Their slow-motion falling out came to a dramatic conclusion when Max answered the horrific call to the spellsword training grounds, forced to take up arms against her own general and her best friend. Even now Max wouldn’t be able to recall what words the two of them exchanged, only how raw her throat felt from the yelling and the tears of frustration and hurt pricking hotly at the corners of her eyes. Only the split-second feeling of the force of his mana washing over him remained, and the crashing of cold stone at her back.

When Max awoke back at Triage, she felt like a failure. She had been a failure. For the past year and a half everything had been so reactive -- she hadn’t had time to get out in front of a damn thing, when typically this was her specialty. Max had felt backed into a corner time and again, and she was sick of being the wild animal that could do nothing but snap back, angry and ineffectual.

So she decided to leave.

Max wasn’t getting the answers she needed from Kadeu, nor were the reminders and the distractions any kind of help. She knew she needed to clear her head and heal -- really heal -- from what had happened before she could move forward. A couple of hastily written but heartfelt letters found their way to friends, not wanting anyone to worry at her disappearance even if she gave no thorough explanation as to why.

The note left for Jihoon was the simplest: I forgive you. But I need time.

She needed to know what she could do to protect Jihoon and his mind. She needed to know if there would ever be a way to prevent the second half of his life from slowly devolving into madness. She needed outside perspectives, outside information, outside advice.

She packed a small bag of essentials, left her armor behind, and spent the night at her family’s home before setting off the next morning for Umibe. It seemed like the logical first step: the change in scenery and the bracing sea air, the loud clamor of people coming and going -- and the information they brought with them. 

Max would start there. Beyond that -- who knew where the information or the wide-open call of the sea might take her?

OOC INFORMATION;;

Max gave no one the details about what happened between her and Jihoon. To tell anyone would be to admit she knew Jihoon is or was compromised, and she knew better than to undermine his Ace status even in a time of relative peace.

In-game, Max left Kadeu roughly a year and a half ago. OOC-wise, she will be on hiatus until September.

Questions, concerns, please feel free to DM me!

[its-max-okay]

MONTGOMERY FALLON​:

A pit formed and hollowed in Fallon’s stomach with Max’s words. Amplified by the broken look that settled onto her face. She hadn’t felt that in near six decades. Not since she had told her former protégé- former friend-  that she had decided to leave the place they had both loved. The place they both still loved. 

The place would never love her again. 

She watched as Max turned so expertly, precisely, on her heels. Stared at her back as the guards fixed their weary glares at the now-Club. She resisted the urge to hide her wrists. Resisted the urge- for the hundredth time- to ask about the rest of the Zhang’s.

Instead, she said another goodbye. One that held all the same finality as the first one had- even if the words were barely audible. 

“Take care of yourself, Max.” 

She didn’t leave until Max was fully over the border.  

Fin

[its-max-okay]

MONTGOMERY FALLON​:

She expected Max to keep going once they got to the boarder. Hoped, maybe, that she might give her some parting words, but wasn’t going to hold her breath- until the younger emitter turned around to face her. She almost smiled. But the look Max gave her.. then the questions she asked, stopped all that. 

For a moment, Fallon simply stared at her. Met her eyes with what she hoped was a neutral glaze of her own. She debated lying, giving her an answer that would- should- make her feel better. Sparing her another wave of agony seemed like the merciful thing to do. 

So why couldn’t she speak? She tried, opening her mouth and willing words to come, but Fallon only sighed and dropped her gaze. Max wasn’t a little girl anymore. Life wasn’t always kind, we didn’t always know people the way we thought we did. 

Still, though.. 

“He hadn’t been that person in a very long time.” A copout response. Truthful, but cowardly. It was something she’d always regret: her part in asking those that were far too young to things that were far too terrible. She hadn’t been the one to pick the assassination targets. She hadn’t been the one to choose who accepted the missions. That wasn’t her job. But she felt just as couplable being the one to clear Anton, and Sparrow, and the others, for the missions that were asked of them. Given her official ‘okay’ to using them as a means to a literal end. 

Once more, she lifted her gaze to meet the Spade’s, hoping to soften what she knew would still be a blow, hoping that she believed her when she said, “That wasn’t the man that you knew. Not really. Not anymore.” 

Fallon’s initial answer was diplomatic, and as much as Max wanted to appreciate that, her blood ran cold with the words. She glanced down towards the street between them and frowned. She’d run out of tears to cry at this point, but that didn’t stop her eyes from stinging.

Gods, but she was tired.

“There was a lot about him that wasn’t the man I knew,” she replied softly, tinged with more resignation than bitterness. Max had come looking to Fallon for answers, and had gotten far more of them than she’d bargained for. She knew she should be grateful, when Fallon didn’t owe her a thing. Neither of them owed the other anything. That ledger had been struck clean the day Fallon walked away. Now, it was Max’s turn.

“Goodbye, Fallon.” Max glanced up to meet her former mentor’s gaze as she said so, expression betraying little more than it already had: exhaustion, and a profound sadness that things had to be the way they were.

Max turned on her heels, putting her back to the tumultuous Clubs district and not intending to return anytime soon.

[its-max-okay]

HAN CASSIUS​:

While Cassius knows education is no true indication of intelligence and that he is intelligent even if he struggles with reading most books in Luke’s vast collection, that certainly doesn’t stop him from making stupid decisions – like digging his heels into his misanthropic notions of self-worth. “Perhaps that’s where we differ,” he’s been told it’s unnerving, the ease of the smile he maintains while spewing out self-degrading sentiments, “I tell myself I’m worthless every day”. Smoothly, he reaches out to a passing tray of pastries and pops a bite-sized cake into his mouth, taking his time as he considers how to frame his following inquiry; all the while proverbially digging his feet into the mud of humanity.

“You were a human for twenty-eight years, but did you live those twenty-eight years knowing you would be nothing but human? Or did you live those twenty-eight years with aspirations to be something more, waiting on the day when simply being human was a classification of the past?” Luke has told him similar things in the past, but it’s hard for Cassius to believe these types of claims. They’re too easy for his self-loathing tendencies to discount for the simple fact that Cassius knew with certainty that he was human and nothing more. Cassius would never be worth more than a human, and a human was worth nothing to start with. “Sometimes perspective is ultimately what defines us”.

People like this say that they understand what it’s like to be human, but do they really understand the futility in knowing that human is all they’ll ever be? Do they understand the futility in being born to parents who were never extraordinary, just painfully human in their flaws. From drugs to abandonment to serfdom – human was all that waited for Cassius.

Max didn’t even bother to censor her expression at this point: she frowned at Cassius, wine temporarily forgotten in her hand.

He’d utterly bulldozed all of Max’s other points, leading her to believe this was a whole… thing for him. It saddened her, truly; growing up as a Spade she was taught everyone had inherent worth. Everyone had a niche that could be useful. As much as she tried and tried again to give Diamonds the benefit of the doubt, she wasn’t in the least surprised that the district could’ve produced a human so thoroughly indoctrinated to the concept of his own uselessness.

“Okay, so, I’m not the best example.” Max could admit that. She had always had some hope that she’d receive the blessing of an Emitter, and even if she’d like to think her life still would’ve been meaningful if she hadn’t, their experiences were still different. She changed tactics, holding up a finger.

“There was a woman, one of your Diamonds, who died in the fall -- maybe you read about it in the news. Kim Allore. I don’t remember what her rank was,” Max admitted, then shrugged. “High, though. She was a sculptor. And she was a human. But that last part is irrelevant, because most people knew her -- still know her -- for her art.” And her shitty parents, Max thought dryly, but didn’t bother to add.

“I’m not saying you have to become an artist to be something. I’m saying that her race didn’t define the work she did. Perspective is where you’re looking from, you’re the one who’s letting people feed you the idea that humans are worthless. Why?”

It was obvious she wasn’t going to change this young man’s mindset in an evening. It seemed highly unlikely anyone might be able to change his mindset at all, but to decide it wasn’t even worth trying would be buying into Cassius’ own ideas that he wasn’t worth the trouble. If nothing else, Max simply wanted to understand.

[its-max-okay]

LEE HYEONJU​:

Is he dead? No, Hyeonju thought wistfully, but for all intents and purposes he might as well be.

The night continued in that fashion, with Max and Hyeonju skirting their problems, hinting to one another of their sorrows. Even when he spoke of his own, the Heart observed his friend, tried to read her, understand what was causing the dark aura that laced her words and smile and eyes; but no matter how long into the night they spent chatting and letting alcohol cloud their minds, Hyeonju was unable to discover the source of her pain.

For the rest of the night, Hyeonju flitted between worry for Max and turning over her questions about Idris, wondering and contemplating even long after they departed from each other’s company.

FIN

[its-max-okay]

MONTGOMERY FALLON​:

Fallon left the younger Emitter where she stood, still in the hallway, and quietly made her way back to the front room. Though it probably would have been better for both of them if she had made some sort of noise- this place, this house, something about what it had turned into left a heavy air hanging in each room, each hallway. Like some invisible, omnipotent force demanded a quiet reverence so the souls that rested here could remain unbothered. The silence felt.. right, needed. Required. And she’d respect it.

Even if that meant enduring the muffled sobs coming from down the dark hallway she had just left. 

At first, she’d tried to make herself busy, do something so it didn’t feel like she was doing nothing while someone she had watched grow bared her heart and soul in agony. She straightened a couple of the nameplates, muttered a few words to the oldest urns. At one point, she pulled a sleeve of her tunic down to wipe away the dust on a particularly dusty shelf. But all too soon, she ran out of busy work. And Max’s sobs still drifted over the heavy air, like an echo of the pain only the residents of this place could understand. 

And so, Fallon found a sturdy enough edge of a table and leaned against it. Hands folded together, head bowed. And simply listened. Waiting. 

This was why she had brought Max here in the first place. Because the pain in the Spade was too obvious. Too bottled up. She’d held the wrong hope and had to face the unfortunate truth, all of it. 

Anton was gone. 

And clearly, he hadn’t yet told this woman who cared so much for him the complete truth. 

Eventually, the sobs stopped- or at least, they stopped being audible from the front of the house. Fallon sniffed, clearing her head and looked towards the small windows by the door. The soft footsteps coming from the hall drew her attention back. 

Fallon was careful not to allow any pity to show on her face- she didn’t feel pity for the now worn-down looking Spade. She understood. Instead, she gave her a soft, welcoming smile and nodded. “You needed it.” She started, softly. 

“I’m just.. sorry that it wasn’t the answer you were hoping for. I truly am.” It took effort to keep her voice from cracking.

“Come on, I’ll show you back to the main road. It will get you back to the border.” The border to Spades. The home faction for both of them, though only one would be welcomed. 

Max simply nodded. What else could she do? It clearly wasn’t the answer either of them was hoping for. She didn’t know what Anton had meant to Fallon but didn’t dare ask; it wasn’t anything she deserved to know, and the answer likely wouldn’t change anything, anyway. He’d been important to both of them, and at the end of the day -- at the end of his life -- really, that was all that mattered.

Max had honestly never expected to see Fallon again, never to speak to her again. Maybe after this, she still wouldn’t. They walked together back towards the border of Spades in a profound silence that, at first, really seemed to point towards that. Max was already too conflicted and too raw to be able to examine how she felt about that. She couldn’t say it was good to see Fallon again, not under these circumstances. But she couldn’t say she hadn’t missed her, either, or the firm, calming presence she’d been for so many years of Max’s life.

She still wanted to ask ‘why,’ but again, didn’t dare. It would be another answer that wouldn’t change anything. The damage had already been done, compounded over years of resentment. Their relationship might as well be housed in another of those jars, mourned over at first but eventually forgotten.

Before she realized it, they’d reached the border. An armed sentry waited for Max across the way, but she avoided making eye contact, turning her back to fix Fallon with a hard look instead. The severity of it didn’t make it to the tones in her voice; those still sounded a little too small, a little too broken.

“Was everything they said true?” Max asked softly, glancing over Fallon’s face and searching for the slightest twitch, the meagerest reaction that could give anything away. “In the Deck. About Anton. Was that really the kind of person he was?”

Was I really so easily fooled?

[its-max-okay]

HAN CASSIUS​:

Her confidence brings something akin to genuine amusement to Cassius’ expression, already half-fond of her brash assuredness. It’s a refreshing demeanour after hours spent being prodded at by curious highrankers looking for entertainment in the lowranking human. Ever-so-slightly, Cas allows his posture to relax, intrigued as to where this conversation might lead.

“Well Miss Zhang, I’m the most worthless one here because I am human, simple as that”. And to Cassius, it really was, simple as that. To him, there was no worth to being human in Kadeu. No special abilities for others to fawn over, no connections for others to abuse (unless you were forced into marriage, but at that point you were no better than a pet), no riches for others to sate their avarice with. Most didn’t want anything to do with humans. Avoidance grew not out of fear or massive distaste (although the latter most certainly did play a role for some), but there was purely no reason for someone to find worth in a human, save for making yourself feel better. The most Cassius could provide was occasional entertainment, and he was careful not to dole out too much of that lest someone think he was a lost puppy searching for a highranking home.

“If you were to rank species, in the eyes of society, could you honestly say that humans were not the most worthless? I find it hard to think of another species you could confidently place beneath humankind”. It’s not a lie. But that fact doesn’t mean Cassius doesn’t enjoy occasionally prodding at the species above him, laughing snidely in the safety of his own apartment about the ridiculousness of occasional individuals. Sure, he may be worth less than any one of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t temporarily climb up to a cliff to laugh down at them. Just so long as they never saw.

‘Because I am human,’ the man began, and Max blinked and waited for some elaboration or qualification that would never come, only a, ‘simple as that.’ Her confusion melded into a frown, one that only deepened as he continued.

“Uh,” she began with a brief laugh, one that clearly didn’t know what to make of the situation. It certainly wasn’t what she’d expected to encounter at a party like this, not when the majority of her conversations up until now had been vapid to the extreme. Max wasn’t expecting to shift to more critical thinking a couple of drinks in, but she could do it. Probably.

“Well, for starters, what are we ranking by? Because let me tell you, in all my years I have met a lot of species, and a lot of them are worthless at a lot of different things. Strongarms? Generally not great at higher math. A lot of Elementalists aren’t exactly good at thinking things through. But at the same time,” she continued with a shrug, gesturing around the room with her new glass of wine. “I know a Strongarm who manages Spade warehouse inventory better than I ever could. And an Elementalist who often thinks a few very smart steps ahead.” Her eyes caught the glint of Ara’s headdress before returning her attention to Cassius, briefly shaking her head.

“So if you’re trying to show me a human who’s useless across the board, then I’ll show you a human who isn’t trying. Or hasn’t found their niche. Or one that isn’t giving himself enough credit,” Max added, arching a meaningful brow in Cassius’ direction. “I was a human for twenty-eight years, Mr. Han. And I wasn’t about to let anyone tell me I was worthless, least of all myself.”

[its-max-okay]

feat. @ara-kadeu​

[its-max-okay]

MOON ARA​:

Ara beamed at her friend’s compliment, even as she mirrored Max’s actions and gave a non-too-subtle once over of the Spade, her head tilting and following one of the tempting slits in the black fabric of the dress. 

“Me? Have you looked in a mirror tonight?” Her tongue clicked in approval, her cheeky smile turning back up from the exposed leg. “You really went all out with this one- and I couldn’t be more appreciative.” She gave her friend a wink and took a sip from her own glass. 

Max’s next statement earned a scoff and a candid roll of her eyes. “Not from a lack of trying, believe me.” She snaked an arm around the Spade’s waist and gently guided further into the party. “I swear, if they aren’t making snide, tired comments about my personal life, they’re telling dull stories about the other invitees. Or their jobs.” Ara winced slightly, taking another sip of her wine. “Fair warning, the glass maker is sweet and clearly loves what he does, and his art is beautiful, but his monotone just makes it sound like a lecture you didn’t want to attend.” Her love life hadn’t been the only topic of conversation here of course, the prestigious pricks had been interested in all aspects of her personal life. 

From accusing her of being against her faction, being a Club sympathizer, to more stories about her absence in December and how she really got the scar on her back. To rumors about Hilo himself- those ones she’d diplomatically handled and nipped in the bud. She didn’t care about the rest. No one was entitled to an ounce of her time or attention. 

Still, being cooly above it all took it’s toll. 

She gave the emitter’s waist a careful squeeze, a much softer smile on her lips. “Thanks for being here with me, Max. I owe you one.” Those she hadn’t said the words, it was evident in her tone and her eyes that she’d missed her friend very much. She’d hoped this little bit of fun and change of scenery could bring back a little bit of the spark Max had been missing the last month or so. 

Ara led the pair slowly across the gardens to a pretty white arch, overlooking the faction on one side, and a full view of the prized gardens on the other. 

“I told you this place was pretty, didn’t I?”

Max snorted softly at Ara’s assessment of the other guests and the overall tone of the party and couldn’t find anything to add. It really did sound like some kind of networking event through and through, and while Max found such affairs horrendously tedious -- especially as a Spade, where the main thing that got you ahead in ranks was personal merit -- she was still proud. Proud that Ara had been invited, proud of the K on her wrist, proud of everything her friend had been through in the past handful of months and come out thriving. If Max were a pettier person, she might even have been jealous.

As it was, she simply gave Ara’s waist a reassuring squeeze and easy smile in return as they threaded their way through the other guests. “Wouldn’t miss it. I love watching you eat lesser people alive, and handing you another glass of wine as you do so.” Max might excel at taking others down a peg or two with her sheer confidence and brashness, but Ara had a subtlety and an intelligence as sharp-edged as a knife.

“And the gorgeous backdrop certainly doesn’t hurt.” Max trailed off as they paused to take in the view, the pink moon creeping up from the horizon and bleeding its softness into the darkening evening sky. Tilting her head to rest her temple against Ara’s -- though still mindful of the ornate headdress -- Max let slip a quiet sigh, one tinged with a mixture of awe and the quiet sadness that’d been gnawing at her edges for the past handful of weeks. It was lesser than before, if nothing else, but far from disappeared entirely.

“Almost makes you forget how shit everything can be out there, hm?” In the rest of Kadeu, where all too often the factions seem to be teetering at the edge of something dark and terrible, waiting for the lightest breeze of a push to be sent tumbling into discord. It was a difficult way to live, always holding your breath for something awful. But after a hundred years, Max had learned nothing if not how to adapt.

[its-max-okay]

PARKER LUKE​:

“don’t get me wrong, i mostly have my powers under control.” even though a long time has passed and lita has found her peace a long time ago, the wound still seems to be fresh. not too fresh, but digging too deep might reveal expressions and things about him he’d rather hide, so discarding the topic is probably the best decision. 

her reaction makes him laugh and he shakes his head. “you have no idea how diamond most of the things in diamond territory are. it varies between women and men walking around with stuffed animals on their head and these wonderful, sparkly drinks. somewhere between that is me. and before you ask, i do in fact not own any outfits that include stuffed animals or worse, taxidermically prepared animals. and yes, i’ve come across people that wear stuff like that.” he shudders at the thought of the highranking diamond woman with a taxidermically prepared fox on her head. 

“are you referring to me or the drink..?” he mirrors her grin before placing the glass down, a bit relieved after deciding on liking the drink. it’s not perfect, but good enough for him to drink it without pulling multiple faces per sip. “anatomical texts? doesn’t sound that boring to me, given it helps you improve your powers, doesn’t it?” luke had never quite gotten behind how emitters work, but he’s willing to learn more.

“it includes lots of practice, yes. it depends on the person, honestly. most students learn better through playful practice and physical training, but understanding where the powers come from, how they work and what the possibilities are works wonders. the younger and less trained elementalists are also dangerous. it takes a good amount of time to be in control of yourself and accept your abilities and limits. elementalist training takes lots of patience, but i guess it’s the same for you guys?”

Throughout the late afternoon and well into the evening, Max and Luke share not only delightful conversation on topics ranging from their abilities and species to their individual hobbies, but also a few too many drinks apiece -- and, ultimately, a moment of heatedly exchanged kisses before they part ways for the night.

Fin.

[its-max-okay]

love is a fucking scam. eat a mango bitch

[its-max-okay]

MONTGOMERY FALLON​:

There were ten possible paths to where they were going; Four that only took twenty minutes. As a safety precaution, Fallon picked at random what path she’d take whenever she wanted to visit this special place, and never took the same one twice in a row. Even though the building was no longer a safehouse, old habits- built up over decades- die hard. 

Unlike her former protege, the elder Emitter didn’t view the silence between them as tense or thick. Maybe a little apprehensive, but that would just be plain smart on Max’s part. Fallon had given her no real information on their end location, if Max had been listening to her training at all while in the Spade ranks, she should be at least a little questioning. For Fallon, the silence offered the space to calm the sudden brush of nerves lighting up her gut the closer they got to the building. She hadn’t ever brought anyone outside of the resistance here, and even then- only a handful of members knew what she had done with the burned safehouse. 

The building itself was unassuming: brown-black brick, smudged with soot and dirt and grime from the years of superficial neglect. Few windows, just as dark and grimy as the brick. Tucked away in a darker, narrowed corner of inner Clubs, where only the souls meant to be there, were there. Fallon stepped up to the heavy wooden door and swung it open, stepping inside and motioning for Max to follow. 

She said nothing as she entered what she considered to be a sacred space. Simply drew a small matchbox from her pocket and lit two large candles sitting by the door. The inside of the building, in what little light shone through the windows and what the firelight offered, still stood in stark contrast to how the building’s curbside appeal. Fallon had made it a point to keep the place spotless- as spotless as she could anyway. Clearing the little jars and boxes that lined the walls and surfaces of the furniture of dust and grime. 

Each shelf, hung low for easier access, held the cremated remains of the fallen resistance members- the ones she had been able to bring the bodies back of, anyway. Some were just little stone or metal plaques. Their souls still made the air feel heavy. In the main room, there were fifteen small memorials, the smaller rooms held fewer, but there was still at least five in each room of the old house. 

Fallon handed one of the candles to Max. “C’mon. Through here.” Her free hand motioned down the dark hallway to their left and she lead the way. She stopped in front of a small room at the end of the hall, a former bedroom though the bed no longer remained, and looked at Max. “In there. The new one. You’ll see his name. I’ll wait back where we came in.” She turned to leave but stopped, lifting her free hand and, hesitantly, placing it on Max’s shoulder. “Take your time. Do what you need to do.” 

She took her hand back before the younger could push her away and made her way back down the hall. 

Max truly didn’t know what she’d expected to find or be told when she’d made her way across contentious borders into Clubs this morning, a one-track mind looking for answers that didn’t know what to do when presented with them. Her heart hung heavier and heavier as they made their way between the burned-out brick walls, the purpose of this building and the shelves lining the walls achingly clear. For a split-second, Max had the impulse to turn on her heels and leave, a calling almost too difficult to ignore -- maybe because she knew what she’d wanted to be told this morning, and this obviously wasn’t going to be the case.

Feet dragging reluctantly to a stop outside what appeared to be a gutted bedroom, Max was painfully aware of the way her heart hammered against her ribs and her throat constricted with what she was about to face. She heard Fallon’s words as if through a dream, tunneled, and barely reacted but for a subdued nod. The touch to her shoulder was unexpected but not unwelcome, and for the briefest of moments, Max missed it as soon as it was gone.

Quiet closed in, contemplative and suffocating, as Max finally took a few tentative steps into the room. For a moment she looked everywhere except where she expected to find what she was looking for, eyes skimming the shelves lining the walls. There were fewer jars in here, but no less weighty than the previous hall -- weightier, even, in the space given between them. Max stepped to the side to set her candle down on a shelf before finally confronting what she dreaded.

Jung Anton, the simple nameplate stated. Despite being no stranger to death and battlefields nor wounds and the corpses they left behind, Max’s stomach twisted and soured as her breath stopped short in her throat. One hand lifted and reached out, but the numb buzzing of her fingertips stopped just short of touching the jar. She didn’t feel like she should. She didn’t feel like she could. Fingers curled back in towards her palms before Max folded her arms over her stomach, more out of a sense of self-preservation than her usual standoffishness.

The first few tears snuck down her cheeks before she even realized, largely because Max thought she’d cried more than enough in the past forty-eight hours. She didn’t think she had anything left, but as the moments ticked by in slow-motion she was proven more than wrong.

Attempts to stifle her sobs were middling at best, and some part of Max wondered how much Fallon could hear out front -- or what she was even thinking, at this point. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Anton had meant something to both of them, something irrevocable, and fate had decided to pull them back together in the wake of his death.

Eventually, Max’s breaths quieted and evened out and the reverent calm settled over the burned-out building again. A strange sense of embarrassment and vulnerability also settled on Max’s shoulders, prompting her to wait a stretch of minutes -- fifteen, maybe twenty -- standing still in the center of the room. Max didn’t know what she’d say when faced with Fallon again, and she didn’t look forward to it. Time might dry her cheeks but it wouldn’t do anything for the redness in her eyes. She didn’t want to have to explain to Fallon what she and Anton had or hadn’t been. Or maybe she did, and that scared her even more.

Turning her back on the room, Max picked up the candle and made her way back towards the entrance, blowing out the wick and leaving it where she’d seen Fallon retrieve it from. Finally, she reappeared at the entrance of the makeshift mausoleum with her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Everything about her looked tired and defeated now, a far cry from the sharp defiance she’d originally greeted Fallon with.

“You didn’t have to show me that,” Max recognized softly, glancing down at the darkened stones in front of the threshold and scuffing at them with her boot. She paused, and eventually added, “Thank you.”

[its-max-okay]

HAN CASSIUS​:

For as naturally as Cassius’ pandering façade comes to him, after several hours at the party even he’s getting fatigued from all the mock laughter and put-on interest he’s giving these stuck-up highrankers. “You know,” a woman puts her hand on Cassius’ arm, expression lit with an enthusiasm that even Cassius cannot feign, “I’ve just had the most brilliant revelation! For a human you’re rather easy on the eyes….” She pats his arm, blatantly eyeing him up and down, “So why not marry up to an elementalist family? I’m sure they would take excellent care in tending a human with your looks”.

Cassius would very much like to go home.

Another woman interjects and begins to detail her long experience as a matchmaker in the Diamond faction, adamantly selling her skills despite the listening party (Cassius) being equally as adamant in wanting nothing to do with any of it.

But like a champ, he simply smiles and laughs.

The potential of this becoming his reality is why he never wants to lose his job.

Before Cassius has time to make up some cloying lie to soothe their alarmingly detailed fantasy of setting him up with a higher ranking Diamond, their little gossip posse is interrupted by an outsider and a new arm around his own. His expression flickers momentarily at the arrival of yet another addition to the group, but he’s very pleasantly surprised to discover that this is more of a rescue attempt than anything else.

(Led over to a table away from the gaggle of prying highrankers, Cassius does admittedly let out a small sigh of relief).

As the stranger introduces themselves, Cassius offers his own hand in a well-mannered handshake, still keeping to the façade of courteous subservience that he knows best, “Cassius Han, a pleasure to meet you”. Even if Max appeared to be a far more appealing conversationalist, there’s very few people at this gathering without some sort of goal in mind, and Cassius wasn’t about to let his guard down without being aware of her motives. Then again, it’s not as if he lets his guard down with just anyone.

“So what brings you here? If you’re here to acquaint yourself with the highranking Diamonds I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person”. Cassius eases back into his usual casual charm of an act, subtly assured smile soon to be an abrupt contradiction to his following words, “I’m probably the most worthless person here”. It’s not as if he’s wrong. And, well, Cassius hasn’t had the time to determine what type of person this stranger is. If their ego is reigned in enough to not find flattery through the human’s own self-deprecating statement, then perhaps he may have an actual worthwhile conversation in store for him.

What a welcome change that would be.

But perhaps he is being too hopeful.

Max accepts his hand with a flicker of amusement, tickled by his formality. The air of subservience feels out of place within high Diamond society, when everyone else she’s had the dubious pleasure of intermingling with tonight has cloaked themselves in holier-than-thou attitudes even heavier than their jewelry and twice as suffocating as the thick drapings of velvet they all wear.

She isn’t left to wonder for long as he continues, but at the same time, his words raise so many more questions. Max’s drink pauses halfway to her lips at his comment, and she blinks in a mixture of surprise and quiet confusion. What a rare trait in a Diamond -- an ego deficit of stunning proportions.

“Hell of a conversation opener, my guy.” Max sizes him up differently now, inclining her head and settling one hand on the hip she cocks to the side, clearly unashamed of the sheer volume of leg the gesture reveals. She takes a slow sip of her drink -- something tastefully dry, a pleasant contrast to whatever cloyingly sweet thing she’d had last -- before continuing.

“I don’t talk to worthless people,” she assures him with all due confidence. “And I doubt I made a mistake talking to you. So what makes you think that you’re the most worthless one here, Mr. Han, when I spent twenty minutes listening to some old bag tell me about her stupid rock collection?” Or crystals, or. Whatever. Obviously, she hadn’t been paying attention. The only crystal Max cares about is the one nestled neatly in her gut, and her gut is telling her this Cassius Han is more worth talking to than he clearly believes.

[its-max-okay]

MOON ARA​:

May 22nd, 2021- evening (7PM)

Ace’s Tea Party, Diamond Territory 

The tea portion of the party hadn’t been as mind numbing as the King had braced herself for. On the contrary, it had proven to be rather beneficial- if only so far as expanding her web of acquaintances. And picking up on the lastest Diamond gossip. She’d ogled, and occasionally gawked, at the.. interesting choices most of her faction’s supposed elite had chosen to wear: people can fight stereotypes until they’re blue in the face, but they exist for a reason. And her faction’s case, their association with a certain level of avant-garde tendencies was more than earned. What made them still interesting was the way each person here today had chosen to present it.

There was shine, of course. Mirrored jackets or gowns, some were skin tight and with a sleek sort of shine like a thin layer of tar. Some of course chose to be bejewelled from their hat to their shoes, casting multicolored dots of light like some sort of walking stained glass art piece. Others chose to express the signature Diamond creativity by mixing unusual colors or bold patterns with seemingly no abandon. While some managed to pull it off rather well, Ara couldn’t help feeling that most were simply gaudy for gaudiness sake. It may have been her pride, but when it came to fashion- even when the dress code called for Diamond levels of extra- she simply felt that separates her from the majority of her faction- and their stereotypes. 

In general, she considered her sense of style- even when it was, admittedly, very extra- to be, in a word: Timeless.

Her entire wardrobe would still be in style thirty, fourty, seventy years from now. The same could not be said for most of her faction, creative as some may be. 

She’d been talking to the stained glass wonder, listening to their pride as they told her about where they had procured all the many gems and the team of tailors who had painstakingly stitched each one to the otherwise simple garment. Ara didn’t have the heart to tell them that she’d already counted at least fifteen ‘gems’ that were just colored glass. They’d obviously paid quite the sum to have this gown made, it was hardly their fault that their tailors had been so greedy as to switch out a few of the real jewels for fakes. She didn’t recognize the name of the team, but she did mention a few names of tailors she’d trust above all the rest- when she noticed the tea pots and cups being whisked away and replaced with glasses of wine and small treats. 

The sun had begun setting, the sweet golden beams catching on her crown and golden elements of her cape and gown and radiating just as she wanted. Others had begun moving to the entrance, looking and waiting for their plus-ones. Ara offered a hurried goodbye and excused herself, snatching two glasses of a rosy colored wine and joined the small group in waiting. 

Her friend would enter the stunning gardens any minute, and she already had so much to tell her. 

Max had never been to the Diamond Aces’ high tea before, for pretty obvious reasons. No one had ever invited her before (also for pretty obvious reasons), and even if they had, she would’ve laughed in their face. She actually did as much to Ara for the briefest of moments before, oh, she realized her friend was serious. Max hadn’t even had the heart to tease her about taking her hunky blacksmith instead, not when she had her fingers so firmly on the pulse of the rumor mill and knew the two of them were still granted so little peace and privacy. Max understood well the frustration of rumors spread about her and a loved one, and it was more than she cared to joke about.

So with only a little wheedling (and the promises of free-flowing wine), Max agreed. She’d even put in a special commission for her dress to look the part, though as she milled about the grandiose marble lobby with a large handful of other plus-ones, she’s realizing she still went too subdued. Encrusting her torso with jewels wasn’t even enough, who knew?

Nursing a flute of bubbly water and glancing around the gathered guests, Max wondered idly to herself if she’d end up seeing the Diamond King she’d all but threatened to gut like a fish months ago. An inward shrug decided she didn’t care. The girl could make a scene if she wanted; Max wouldn’t retaliate. She had made a promise to be on her very best behavior, and on her very best behavior she would be.

It wasn’t long before the enormous doors opened to them, and Max tread carefully through marble halls on unpracticed heels. Memories of the Ace of Hearts’ birthday party almost a year ago now came bittersweet, the way she’d healed the soreness from her feet and dragged Jihoon from a fringe table for a dance. Normally she’d expect him to laugh, if he knew she were here. But she hadn’t told him, and he hasn’t laughed much the past handful of months.

The thought had her casting about for a drink as soon as she stepped into the pleasantly cool and well-curated back gardens, descending the few stairs with as much grace as she could muster. It wasn’t difficult for her to spot Ara approaching, a beacon of gold and effortless class amongst multi-colored, glittery garishness. Max accepted the offered drink with an easy smile and pulled Ara into a one-armed hug, only half-mindful of both of their garments as she pressed a kiss to her friend’s cheek. “Ara. I’ve missed you.” They’d met a couple of times in the past month, but not under the best of circumstances. Today, at least, Max would maintain her composure and keep her tears to herself.

She wouldn’t, however, keep her hands to herself: her free arm remained draped around Ara’s waist as she gave the Elementalist’s dress an appreciative once-over.

“You look stunning as always. They’re lucky to have you here classing up the place,” Max figured with a nod, eyeing Ara with mischief even over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “So glad to see nobody bored you to death before I got here.”

[its-max-okay]

PARKER LUKE​:

in his eyes, max is surprisingly positive and..bubbly. her laughter is contagious and next thing he knows he’s laughing with her as soon as she confirms that his life does in fact sound slightly boring. “i like to label myself as a bit risky. last week, i almost set my curtains on fire while getting happy over the end of pride and prejudice.” luke is a man of culture and he likes to let her know.

“you say that until you get bored after hearing me talk about weird stuff for hours.” he closes the door behind them and follows her to the bar. he likes the way she chose the brighter and more open place to sit, given they’re very much not ready for deep talk or something so intimate yet. he’s not quite sure if they’ll get to the point of having deep talk today, anyways. 

“should i be hurt or amazed that both guesses were wrong?” an amused smile curls around his lips and he shakes his head. “when i drink wine, i only do so in spring and fall, on warm evenings. and mead is not my type of drink, sorry to disappoint you. actually, i prefer whiskey and rum and i like to drink cocktails.” the poke against his warm skin catches him off guard and he shakes his head about it. “so, pick one of the three and i’ll choose the brand. or..nevermind, it’s up to the barkeeper.” said barkeeper who had been listening simply nods and leaves their space to go and make two drinks. luke hopes it’s something the other likes, or she can simply order herself something else. he’ll pay for it regardless.

“do you read, by chance? and if so, what’s your favorite book? maybe it’s something i read, too. and if not, i’ll make sure to go and buy a copy. or you lend me yours, what would give me a reason to spare you a visit at spade’s, if i haven’t creeped you out yet.”

the barkeeper places two cocktails next to them, both a bit sparkly, purple and with more ice cubes than liquid. luke has no idea what they are and suddenly, he has to hope that he likes them. which, he finds out after he’s raised the glass for a toast (keeping eye contact), he does not. and trying not to pull a face is pretty hard, even for such a strong man.

It’s difficult but still endearing to imagine him setting his home furnishings aflame reading Jane Austen, of all things, and Max thinks maybe she misjudged him. Okay, she definitely misjudged him, but that’s what she gets for reducing him to a walking pack of abs. In her defense, that’s all she had to go on at first, and it was a nice thing to latch onto.

Now that she knows he’s got some flair and, more importantly, some personality, she’s intrigued. His qualifications for wine drinking are weirdly specific, especially when Max is pretty sure she could pick a wine for every temperature, season, event, and mood, but she’ll let it slide. She’d hardly turn down a good whiskey or rum -- or even bad ones, to be honest -- and she definitely won’t turn down the weird, sparkly cocktail that’s slid across the bar to her.

“How very Diamond,” she can’t help but comment as she picks it up and grins, turning the glass to inspect all angles. The abundance of ice cubes hints to her it must be strong, which is sometimes (often) all she really asks for in a drink. The toast (and the eye contact) are mirrored with a none-too-coy smile and, taking a judicious sip, Max starts to grin instead as her eyebrows creep up. “And, wow. How very strong.” She takes another sip, trying to decide if she likes it. The jury still seems to be out, but she keeps the glass in front of her instead of abandoning it.

“Well, now I guess it’s my turn to be boring,” Max confides as she returns to his previous question. “When I have down time I usually spend it studying anatomical texts. Kind of dry reading for non-Emitters.” She pauses, then adds, “Kind of dry reading even for Emitters.” She doesn’t love it, but it’s paramount to her craft, and that she does love. Max takes another experimental sip of her drink and inclines her head curiously. “What is Elementalist training like? A lot more hands-on, I’d imagine?” By some miracle of the Old Gods, she asks without turning it into a full-blown innuendo -- even if her eyes do briefly sparkle.

[its-max-okay]

1x07 / 2x07 / 2x10 / 2x11