#maxwellsdoor

Oh, Maxy. Where had everything gone so horribly wrong? Charlie found herself thinking about it often now that she could think on her own, no nightmares fighting her for control. No matter what question she asked or what it’s conclusion may be, however, she wasn’t angry with the magician. She didn’t hate him, nor did she blame this horrible situation on him. The shadows... they did things to people. Changed them, often against the person’s will. She was a perfect example, after all.

No, when she thought of Maxwell she could only feel sadness. The guilt she felt towards him was unparalleled by any yet, because wasn’t she supposed to be there for him? It seems like an eternity ago, now, and she doubts she’s even a hint of the same person she used to be, but way back then it had felt like just them against the whole world. She could have saved him, she’s sure of it. How could she have ever been so blind until it was already too late?

It was just supposed to be an act.

Restless, Charlie can’t sleep no matter how brightly her fire burned. It drained her sanity and left her on edge, she could swear that she heard ghostly whispers and laughs all around her in the darkness. There wasn’t much thought put into it, but a tattered rucksack was stuffed full of torches before one was lit, and she ventured out into the night. She didn’t know where she was going, nor what she would do when she got there, but she knew that she couldn’t sit any longer, staring into those damned flames.

But the night seemed endless, and everywhere she turned those shadows got louder, voices she had been trying so hard to escape surrounding her from every angle. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. The torch is gripped tight within trembling hands, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she’s forced to stop. Head shakes slowly, she feels like she can’t take it anymore. A scream, she falls to her knees and huddles her face as close to the flame as she dares— as if it could clear her head and save her from those monsters. “Please!” She begs. “Please, leave me alone! I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I can’t...” She sobs, but it’s only met with demonic giggles.

The undead cat woman nodded and lifted the small cast iron kettle off of the forked stick it was hanging from, picked up a ladle from the fireside and scooped some of the spicy broth from the pot and carefully poured it into his cup.

“I have been in worse places, from being trapped inside stone coffins to being in the different planes of hell.” she said quietly, emptying the ladle and returning the pot the its place. “Its all a matter of preference, I suppose.”

waxwell: If you win this round… I will make sure that next round is complete hell for you. waxwell: I will have you begging for mercy every single move. waxwell: You will be sorry. wilsno: Maxwell... wilsno: You do realise this is just a game, right? waxwell: Complete. Hell. I swear Higgsbury. You will regret crossing me.

The small child smiled slightly to herself as she walked into the fires glow. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, more of a smug one. One full of hatred and disgust. She twirled the sharp spear in her hand, staring at the old man before her. Her dainty hands looked so fragile against the rough wood, yet so steady.

The man she stood before was not a man she liked. No, she despised him. After all he’d done, she couldn’t imagine ever considering him family again.

And now, with him too stuck in this world? The world which he opened up? The world that he brought her into? Why, it brought her the most joy she’d felt since entering this hell.

“So, dearest Uncle…”

Wendy’s voice came out sickeningly sweet.

-WX and Maxwell teaming up against Wilson -WX-78 chasing down Wilson for like seemingly forever to fight them because they stole his backpack -Unwillingly agreeing to let Wilson camp with them -WX-78 became the commander of the camp -Also became the main fighter (not surprising if you know me) -WX single-handedly provided all the silk and koalaphant trunks (both normal and winter) for two breezy/puffy vests for the camp; even killing 3 three tier spider nests. -Saw Wilson going insane and took off tophat to give to them -Later ended up making them ice cream (that’s a whole story unto itself) -Killed five MacTusks with assistance from Wilson -Maxwell became the camp sitter -Deerclops kicked our butts, but the server ended just as I avenged our butts and killed the Deerclops

     Charlie knocked away his hand, her brows knitting together. “I’m fine Maxy, I’m just a bit tired is all.” She stepped back from him, unable to keep the lie going while looking into his stunning grey eyes. “I’m fine. Trust me.”

Wilson knew, he knew it was a terrible idea to let Maxwell wander alone in the swamp. Not as Maxwell was careless or that horribly incompetent, it was simply because of how dangerous the swamp could be. You can’t always watch your step when you have merms after you or are trying to fight spiders. The difference between Wilson and Maxwell was that Wilson could take more pain until reaching his limits meanwhile the fallen king was rather fragile, Maxwell could allow himself less slips if he wished to stay alive.

Hearing the desperate request for his assistance from behind made Wilson turn, he quickly put his backpack back on and left the berry bushes behind he was busy with and made his way back to where he suspected Maxwell to be. And there he was, standing, paler than ever with a sickening wound on his arm, deep and drawing way too much blood...