Meanwhile, Max is taking a head-clearing stroll around the barracks. He's out of uniform and done with his shift at the Flame until tonight - they finally found someone else, someone much more qualified to work on getting the comm system up.
It's still not working, but Max is glad that he's not the one being forced to deal with that headache anymore.
He really, really wishes there was something else he could do, something more suited to his talents, but what is there to spy on, on an island this size and this scarcely populated?
His current "job" doesn't matter much, though, because he's one of the few optimistic ones who believe that they'll eventually find a way back to their own worlds. When they'll figure that out and how, he has no idea, but he knows that you can't be pessimistic in a situation like this, which is why he's trying to make the best of it.
The barracks are, at least, clean and comfortable.
And air-conditioned.
... they're air-conditioned, and yet he's outside. Maybe this is another of the Island's mysteries?
And with those words did he capture the imagination of one Rossamünd Bookchild. His eyes went wide and he thought back to all the history lessons he had taken in at Madame Opera's.
While spies had only played a small part in any of the things he'd learned of in regards to the history of the Haacobin Empire, they had always sounded fantastic and fascinating in their way. Any spy worth their salt could play his way around a falseman and escape the notice of a laggard and that was no small thing, considering. Having seen such leers in action, it seemed almost as amazing as any lahzar's skill.
He nodded most soberly. Of course! After all, this man had even stayed straightfaced after hearing his name. He knew it was a girl's name and that anyone with any sense in their head would find it odd but that he hadn't reacted said everything he needed to know.
"Surely, sir. Max."
And while he wasn't so rude as to actually ask to be told the fantastic tales of the spy's exploits, it was plain in his features that he wanted nothing more. Perhaps he should know better, as he had been taken in by the Branden Rose herself and had learned how human in all ways she ways, but that did little to dull his love of stories even if he might have better knowledge of the grim realities now.
Every little boy must dream, after all. Even one such as Rossamünd.
Re: BarracksbythatmuchSeptember 10 2008, 14:36:14 UTC
Oh, Max knows that look. He's never actually gotten it before - he's always been brushed off as crazy - but he knows that look.
He's absolutely delighted to finally see it.
"Well, I wasn't always a great spy," he admits. "It took me almost a decade to finally become a field agent, but I never stopped trying, and when I finally did it... all that work, even all the frustration, was totally worth it."
The words rung true in Rossamünd, who had always been the smallest and the clumsiest and the gentlest, often picked on for his name as often for his size in the marine society, as well as for his love of pamphlets and matters. Even in the lamplighters he had been treated as such for much the same reason, despite his true and firm desire to serve the Emperor truly.
"Nothing gained easily is truly valued," he added with great concealed glee, "or so said Master Fransitart."
"It's a fodicar, s--Max. A lampman's crook. Used to tend to the seltzer lamps along the Empire's conduits where're a lamplighter is stationed to provide safer travel and well-lit conditions. And to keep the monsters away."
"All kinds, of course." And he almost pulled out his explicarium (replaced since his dunk in the river) to show him all the various kinds listed for the intrepid wayfarer.
"Nickers and bogles and nimbleschrewds and kraulschwimmen and beasties and bugaboos and nuglungs and shrewds and umbergogs and ettins."
And some of them were names for the same thing, but the Half-continent was rather worried about monsters so it didn't much mind this.
His eyes fell a little as he nodded. He'd been in quite a few confrontations with monsters. He didn't like them, felt that humans killed monsters needlessly rather often, but such was sedonition talk and could get him put on the Catherine wheel or hanged back in his own world. While he wasn't so restricted here, it was still an effort to speak of such things and his words were careful
( ... )
It's still not working, but Max is glad that he's not the one being forced to deal with that headache anymore.
He really, really wishes there was something else he could do, something more suited to his talents, but what is there to spy on, on an island this size and this scarcely populated?
His current "job" doesn't matter much, though, because he's one of the few optimistic ones who believe that they'll eventually find a way back to their own worlds. When they'll figure that out and how, he has no idea, but he knows that you can't be pessimistic in a situation like this, which is why he's trying to make the best of it.
The barracks are, at least, clean and comfortable.
And air-conditioned.
... they're air-conditioned, and yet he's outside. Maybe this is another of the Island's mysteries?
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He shrugs.
"Like I said, booooring."
Hopefully, Rossamünd will not mind if Max flops onto the ground, to sit by him.
"My old job was much more exciting."
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The fodicar is leaned against the wall and the boy himself settles on the ground next to him.
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...
"Was a spy."
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While spies had only played a small part in any of the things he'd learned of in regards to the history of the Haacobin Empire, they had always sounded fantastic and fascinating in their way. Any spy worth their salt could play his way around a falseman and escape the notice of a laggard and that was no small thing, considering. Having seen such leers in action, it seemed almost as amazing as any lahzar's skill.
"Goodness..."
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"Now that was an exciting job. My partner - "
He pauses, suddenly, and the grin vanishes from his face.
He's only starting to realize that this is more than just a solo mission - this could be permanent, and he might never see 99 again...
... but he has to remain optimistic. Has to. So, the grin returns, though it's a little less happy than before.
"My partner was amazing. Pardon my lack of modesty, but we were the best team CONTROL ever had."
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"Surely, sir. Max."
And while he wasn't so rude as to actually ask to be told the fantastic tales of the spy's exploits, it was plain in his features that he wanted nothing more. Perhaps he should know better, as he had been taken in by the Branden Rose herself and had learned how human in all ways she ways, but that did little to dull his love of stories even if he might have better knowledge of the grim realities now.
Every little boy must dream, after all. Even one such as Rossamünd.
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He's absolutely delighted to finally see it.
"Well, I wasn't always a great spy," he admits. "It took me almost a decade to finally become a field agent, but I never stopped trying, and when I finally did it... all that work, even all the frustration, was totally worth it."
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"Nothing gained easily is truly valued," he added with great concealed glee, "or so said Master Fransitart."
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Chief would be a lot more straightforward about it, though, and his advice would be more along the lines of "do you want to be a field agent or not?"
Max misses him, too.
"What's that for?" he finally asks, nodding over toward the fodicar once his curiosity's gotten the better of him.
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Hence the pike at the end.
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He said the 'm' word.
Now, Max's imagination is the one running wild.
"What kind of monsters?"
Please don't say gollywoggles please don't say gollywoggles...
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"All kinds, of course." And he almost pulled out his explicarium (replaced since his dunk in the river) to show him all the various kinds listed for the intrepid wayfarer.
"Nickers and bogles and nimbleschrewds and kraulschwimmen and beasties and bugaboos and nuglungs and shrewds and umbergogs and ettins."
And some of them were names for the same thing, but the Half-continent was rather worried about monsters so it didn't much mind this.
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"Holy - I mean, uh. Wow. Have you ever had to fight one off?"
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KAOS agents are one thing. Monsters, though, are entirely different - he's not sure he could ever face a pack of gollywoggles.
"You," he says, blinking at the boy, "must be very, very brave."
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