#maxwell dst

Note: Things follow a similar outline as canon (which also means the same time period).

Back in his days in Britain proper, he was a woodworker who also dabbled in making wood carvings and sculptures. This side hobby gradually grew into more of a proper profession as a woodcarver. And same as canon, he goes to the states (with a bit of encouragement from his brother) to hopefully gain a new market for his work.

Turns out, it’s not easy to get a new audience in a new country. He eked out a living by doing odd jobs and smaller commissions, but his art hardly drew the attention he would’ve liked.

Again, following canon, he eventually headed west after receiving news his brother has moved to the west coast. He got the book, almost died via train accident, the works.

The book here, of course, is the Codex Glaciem: an odd little book with a deep blue cover and a silver M emblazoned on the cover.

And he soon found out he could create and manipulate ice with it.

The ice was unique. It was cold, obviously, but it wouldn’t give that freeze-burn sensation if you held it for too long. It took far longer to melt than any natural ice, and instead of being purely colourless, it had a pale blue tint to it. Most importantly, he could sculpt with it. It was not the same as wood by any means, but it was arguably easier to work with (or at least it felt like it), and there was something so beautiful about it. Almost hypnotically so.

Obviously, it wasn’t exactly something he could market in day. So he kept it to himself for a while before trying to figure out a way to sell this. An artist couldn’t keep something so lovely all to himself after all.

So he started small. He went to bars.

It wasn’t the most flattering thing, but he sold the owners on being a small ice supplier. He really wasn’t the best at it, but he thankfully was humored enough here and there. It was all very limited supply of course, but he brought in lovely little ice creations for drinks—simple geometric shapes (cubes, pyramids, spheres, etc.) and small sculptures (flower heads, fruits, stars, and so on).

It was also around this time he donned the name “Maxwell.” Notably, for him, it was less of a hard identity change and more of an artist pseudonym to try and seem a little more refined and respectable. “William” just didn’t carry much weight to him, nor did it sound particularly memorable.

Gradually, his work led to him getting the attention of higher end bars (both alcoholic and not) asking him to bring in his sculptures. And it was at one of these bars that he met a mixologist by the name of Charlie.

Side note—Charlie here is still a lady, but she dresses and acts as a man to keep her job. Considering this is still the late 19th century, very early 20th century, women were largely banned from working at any places that served alcohol. I, however, am a fan of women still sneaking their way into professions they’re “forbidden” from. :3c

Anyhow.

As a mixologist, Charlie was naturally a bit of a showman, and she funnily enough became a nudging force to get him to be a bit more performative himself. It was one thing for him to simply bring in his art to be shared with others, it was another to really show off his work.

Eventually, they became an unofficial duo. She made the drinks, he made a show of serving the ice to go with them. One of his favorites was to make a bouquet of ice flowers to hand out to patrons, even make a fuss about choosing just the right one for the occasional lady or two.

They were popular enough at the bar for her be allowed to go on “commission” work with him. Basically, if he was asked to perform at an event, he would have her come along with him and split the money between them. They got invited to nicer events, even formal ones. It was all about striking a balance between fine sophistication and light theatrics, and the people by and large loved it. He made larger, more intricate pieces, no longer strictly for drinks but also for decorum or to hold expensive bottles, food, etc.

All of this wasn’t without its downsides. Much like canon being terrorized by the shadows, he was dealing with some… unpleasant side effects of using the Codex. Some of those most obvious things were that his hair had very slowly begun to go white (though he would insist it was genetics), and that he was constantly cold. It would be the peak of summer heat out, and he’d still try to wear a hefty jacket if he could get away with it because he was freezing. And there were more than a few incidents with Codex as well…

Not that any of this stopped him, naturally. Or perhaps the book wouldn’t let him stop. It would be hard to say.

Thought everything came crashing down eventually, as all good things do.

The duo were asked to come to a fine ball, the first real upper-class event they were invited to. The hosts wanted a large, elaborate statue as the crowning centerpiece for the event. That in itself was fine, but Maxwell had an idea on how to make it truly special.

Make it alive.

He had been playing with trying to make “living,” or moving, sculptures for a while, with a fair bit of success. He could get smaller ones to move, usually in limited ranges of motion—a flower that could sway its leaves, a butterfly that could slightly move its wings, that sort of thing. With a large enough statue, he could perhaps get away with things by saying there were some special mechanisms inside + some very careful segmenting of the ice to allow it to move. Never the fact that he didn’t know a single thing about working with machinery like that; if people kept asking, he could just lie and say he knows a person who did the mechanics part.

So he got to work. Even double and triple checked his work with the Codex to make sure everything would work with a giant statue. The day of the event arrives, and the sculpture is done and transported for the occasion, much to his delight.

Things get set up, and eventually, he gathered everyone’s attention and pointed them to the statue. And with the book in hand, he tried to get it to move.

The book being incorporated into things was important. He really wanted to sell a more magical image, especially since there had been a rumor or do (both joking and not) that he must’ve been some sort of wizard for all the work he did.

And it all works!

It works too well.

Nobody could agree what exactly happened afterward. The people that could remember what happened say that the sculpture stopped… being a sculpture. It didn’t even keep its shape. It shifted like water yet stayed utterly crystalline. Some claim it looked like a person; others say it was a massive bug. Regardless of specifics, all agree on one thing: the thing—whatever it was—took sculptor and the gentleman accompanying him. Then, all three were gone. The book was never recovered either.

Instead of triggering an earthquake and fire, the whole incident caused a massive, anomalous blizzard. It left almost as quickly as it appeared, and it buried the surrounding area in snow and ice.