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Maximum Hawthorn

It happened again... Awareness was a tingling sensation across his waking eyes as the male's dark lashes lifted sleepily, the sharpened claws upon his fingers receding even as he impulsively sank the digits into the lush grass that cradled his resting form. Little white flames, familiar and fleeting, flickered before his gaze and along the feather-patterned strands of his lengthy teal hair... The spectral lights vanishing harmlessly even as the bold peacock shaped markings softened into a silky shine barely visible in the boy's odd mane. Danger had passed, the instinct of fight or flight had been appeased, and yet none of this seemed overly troublesome to the youth as these changes in his body reverted to a rather 'human' appearance. Instead the deep spring-beryl shade of his gaze was fixated on the dancing blades of grass that tickled his nose, the strange boy still belly down upon the lush foliage where he had awoken and clearly content to remain there as his mind lazily tried to retrace just how and why he'd come to rest in such a foreign place. Then again.. most of the places he awoke were 'foreign'. Last he could recall he had been bringing food to a patient at the clinic, something or someone had roared behind him and.. Pain followed, then white fire as oblivion took him. Instincts were difficult to ignore, and without a doubt his body had decided flight was better than fight. How he'd come so far or even how far away he was now from that clinic he had no idea but it wasn't fear that arose from this knowledge.

Curiosity furrowed Max's brow and, forgetting his playful grass blades for the moment, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, one hand bracing him up as he rested on his hip. His free hand calmly reached up, fingers sliding along the flesh of his neck and underneath the shirt covering his left shoulder inquisitively. The fabric was torn and the frayed edges teased his skin as his search continued, the light touch of his fingertips finally locating the source of where his memory had spoken of pain. Metal, small but sharp enough to nick his fingertip as he blindly touched the object embedded in his left shoulder-blade. A.. scalpel? In such a bothersome spot, too. A low sigh escaped his lips and Max allowed his hand to drop away from the wound, oblivious to the way the cut on his finger was already mending as he turned his head and studied his surroundings with a bit more interest. A body of water glistened just down the hill, the beautiful shade of its lapping waves reflecting the light entrancing his attention briefly as he pondered the situation. He couldn't remove the blade and, frankly, the pain was a shallow one as his flesh tried to heal around the object only to be cut open again each time he moved and jostled the area; Trying to fix it would just make it worse thus he decided to do nothing about it, for the moment. Likewise finding a way back to the clinic seemed difficult and this area was quite soothing.. The only thing that really came to his mind that needed to be done was to ease the pangs of hunger creeping through his stomach. " ... Fish live in water and fungus is fond of forested areas, poisonous caps are a low risk. Maybe a wild fish sushi with mushrooms..? I could use the scalpel as a knife if I can get it out of me, but.. " Another low sigh of disappointment whispered free from his lips and the bow allowed his head to lower, his eyes closing as he once again dismissed the issue of removing the blade on his own. Frankie had told him once that when he was lost he simply had to hold still and wait for help, and that if he was physically hurt he shouldn't agitate the wound with movement. Naïve as it was Max sincerely believed waiting for someone to find him was what he was supposed to do; The male sitting very still as time passed and he watched wildlife of the forest go about their lives. One such creature, a small humanoid with wings, drifted close in the waning hours of daylight.. the stunning golden tones of its wings and the gentle air of worry around the female almost ethereal to his tired eyes. It took little effort for Max to catch hold of the insect-like thing and even less energy to eat it, sighing in relief at having something in his stomach even if it was a strange looking bug as he absently placed the remaining luminous wings behind his ear like a flower. It would have been better cooked but.. even raw it had sort of tasted like chicken. Strange, for a bug.

(( Anyone is free to post, I just needed a place to start him off~))

Maximum Hawthorn

The noise, subtle yet out of tune with the ambient sounds Max had started to familiarize with, was the first warning that someone had indeed found their way to him.. though, with a curious tilt of his head towards the stranger, the boy had to admit the man seemed to be feeling just as lost as he himself did. It was a odd rescue, was that what Frankie had meant when someone would find him? She really was smart to know such things so readily. Offering a moment of sweet tempered awe to his absent friend's merits, and entirely forgetting their situation for a moment, it was obvious when he snapped back to attention from the way his eyes fixated on the stranger with lucid interest. What.. did Max know of the woods, the man had asked? " ... I don't remember this place before waking up here, but the grass is very soft and the human-insects do not taste bad. You should probably cook them first before eating them to be safe though." No trace of fear or suspicion marked Max's features as the elderman neared cautiously, if anything the lad moved himself to sit tailor-style as if not only at ease with the company but actually quite relieved for it. He did not like being alone and, more fortunate for the stranger asking him questions, Max enjoyed helping.

Pushing a hand through his hair Max pondered which was supposed to be more important, finding the other lost thing or trying to find his way home now that he'd been 'found', and finally he decided the simplest course of action to be the best. Ignoring the biting pain of the metal in his shoulder the lad lifted his left arm, biting his thumbnail out of habit as he shared his thoughts with the unusual person that had stumbled into his company. " I'm not hungry enough to try and eat someone as tall as you, so you don't have to be.. " Surprisingly keen eyes scanned the man's posture, searching for just what the feeling he was expressing was, before he finally found a name for the behavior reflected in the man's wizened gaze. " .. wary. What is a witch and how will I know if I've seen it?"

Maximum Hawthorn

Silly to say, yet the initial touch upon his back had been somewhat soothing right up to the point that the metal was torn from his skin; Max's breath catching in his throat as both pain and almost immediate relief followed the tool's extraction as his flesh rushed to repair the now-clear wound. In a knee-jerk reflex two little white flames snapped to life near the man's fingers on his back, the embers viciously cold and gone almost as quickly as they had appeared. Frankie had often praised his high pain tolerance, he'd even allowed her test it when she asked with idle nicks and pokes to help her research.. How often had his friend tried to discover just 'what' he was? It seemed a silly question in his mind. The only noise that escaped him from the process was a deep sigh of repose as what little blood that had seeped from the weeping puncture slicked down what now looked to be a fresh scab knitting itself together in plain view. " Someone stabbed me.. It didn't hurt as much as a sword does so I don't mind, but it did damage my shirt so Frankie may be upset when I find my way back." In hours there would be only a scar and in a day no mark would remain to tell the tale of his injury. Given how little the ordeal seemed to bother him it was clear this was far from the worst Max had endured.. though, to be fair, he couldn't really remember all the reasons as to 'why' his pain threshold was so high. What did trouble him was the idea of his friend's reaction to his ruined clothing, his pale brows knitting together with dismay at the notion. Softly, hardly aware he was speaking aloud, the boy mumbled stubbornly. " ... I could just not wear clothes and not worry about breaking them but then I get in trouble for being 'indecent'. They are warm though so it isn't all bad, but still.. "

A sudden, decisive shake of his head sent his hair tumbling down his back as Max pushed the pouting thoughts away. Clothing didn't matter right now, this stranger had been asked for help.. Dropping his head back the boy leaned towards the man behind him, entirely bemused by the sight of the stranger upside-down from his point of view as his teal eyes flickered with amusement and inquiry. It was dumb luck he hadn't clipped the man's chin with his forehead, naturally grabbing his own interlocked shins to balance himself as he studied his companion's features earnestly. " Thank you, I'm not sure I could have gotten that out myself. " His head tilted, the naïve playfulness of his tone shifting to curiosity as his gaze searched for where the blade had landed. His mind, however, was on the information the man had told him prior to his aid in removing the weapon and he barely noticed the way the fairy wings that had been tucked behind his ear fluttered down to rest on Solomon's shoe below. A old woman that could be young and was hard to describe, with black and maybe grey hair.. Frankie had blonde hair so it wasn't her at least. Honestly it was a bit more complex than his mind could grasp, the concept of searching for something that was hard to find, and true to his nature he found himself mimicking what others always told him when he'd forgotten or lost something. " Where did you see her last? Or the marking you share? I was told retracing your steps helps you find your way forward sometimes.." Then again this man likely knew that already, he looked much older and seemed like he knew his way around a fight.. But he also seemed tired, like a familiar hunter he'd once known stalking tough game before a winter storm. A glimmer of something old darkened the depths of his stare and sharply his attention snapped back to the upside-down face in front of him; A memory whispering through his mind and showing his age as his typically calm voice hardened and familiar words moved his tongue. " Predator meat is a delicacy in some areas and hunting them is less about chasing and more about baiting. If following something doesn't work, find a way to draw it in.." As swiftly as the tattered knowledge came it slipped away and, clearly confused at his own comment, Max frowned faintly as he added in a much more hesitant tone. " Just don't get bit in the process, I think... I died a few times hunting like that and it always hurt. Are you going to eat the Witch when you catch her?"

Maximum Hawthorn

The elderman's mood lightened, if only a bit, and in response Max brightened as he his words of advice were praised. He didn't know if it would actually work but if it at least helped.. Some of the cheer dampened however when, looking up at Solomon, he couldn't really shake the notion that the man was still worrying over something. Forlorn, perhaps.. but why so? The weather was lovely and they were not fighting-- Perking up, almost clipping his companion's chin again in the forward sway, Max glided to his feet with the simple and jovial energy of a child on a mission on his mind. No longer hindered by the blade he saw no harm in moving and, oddly belying his youthful behavior, his expression was much firmer as his weight fully shifted to the balls of his feet and he cast a glace down at the man from over his now-mending shoulder. " I'm not sure I understand. If a Witch took your child and gave you a curse would she really undo it just because you wanted her to?" Lifting his hands in front of himself he glanced down, flexing his fingers in a casually claw-like motion that hinted at just how his mind was trying to figure out the creature Solomon was telling him about. " .. I don't.. get the feeling this Witch is kind enough to do so if she hasn't yet. I would ask another, nicer, witch about how to trap the nasty one. Are there nicer witches?" On a rational level the boy was fully aware this man's plight had nothing to do with him, people died every day and after a few years it really was hard to remember their faces let alone their names and goals.. But unlike the people that fell over like wilting flowers this stranger had claimed to be ' impaled more times than he could count' so perhaps he was a little like Max himself? Was that even remotely possible? Absorbed in these musing the boy barely noticed as his own body started to move, autopiloting himself into a idle task of gathering small sticks suitable for building a fire. It was a crude way to cook fish but.. food and the tasks involved in cooking helped his mind remain focused as he mulled over new things. It was safe and, no doubt, the reason why consumption was a constant topic of his focus. But this.. this situation didn't need culinarian information, it was new ground.

It took a few minutes, the quiet rustle of his clothing against the foliage making him easily trackable by the time Max had returned with a worthy haul of firewood.. sinking into a crouch near his resting companion and deftly arranging the sticks in some familiar yet forgotten pattern he'd learned in another lifetime. 'How' he knew things never seemed important, only that the skills served his needs.. Which is why it felt strange taking the initiative when his normal temperament was so passive. If not for the curiosity of his companion he may well have just let it go entirely but.. " My name is Max. You don't seem to die easily so are you..." Hesitating he let the remaining sticks drop to the side, sinking down into a tailor-style position facing the elderman as he struggled with how to ask what was on his mind. " ... perhaps a friend instead of food? I don't think I want to eat you." Which was as close as Max could say to ' I actually consider you a potential person' in his awkward way. Frankie had introduced him to the concept of valuing certain people and he didn't quite understand 'why' yet but he didn't dislike the security that knowledge offered. It was easier to care about things when he didn't have to ponder how or when he'd kill them. Blinking as a thought occurred to him the boy lifted his hand, almost akin to a 'scouts honor' sign as he amended his own request of friendship. " It is fine if you need to eat me, of course, I just won't try to eat you. All I ask is that you don't make it hurt if you have kill me, please."

Maximum Hawthorn

Warmth.. Feeling the heat of the fire as it flared to life Max withdrew his knees to his chest, sliding his arms around them as he observed the man's myriad of expressions. Stress, confusion, hope, fatigue... So many conflicting notions knocking around in one head. Lowering his chin to rest upon his intertwined arms he could feel the soft pressure of his necklace gem pressing into his chest and after a moment something inside himself could understand the sentiment of his new friend's emotions. Emotions were pure, easy to relate to and universal from species to species while words and 'reasons' varied like grains of sand on a beach.. and given the amount of these feelings warring inside Solomon the boy had to wonder how it didn't explode outwards. A small pang in his chest, just under his heirloom jewel, earned a small frown from his lips as Max lifted his stare from the dancing flames and drifted towards Solomon's resting form. " Alright.. and if we do find people I can ask about the good witches for you." The man didn't seem to like them, his tone had sounded akin Frankie's when Max tried to make her eat things she didn't enjoy.. but something did confuse the boy as he weighed what he understood of their conversation so far. " The child is something precious, right..? Can you tell me about them?" He... didn't want to hurt his friend's important person and recognizing it would help a lot if he found it.

(( sorry for the short post, running late for work.))

Maximum Hawthorn

So this was the bond of a parent and child.. That chill in his chest throbbed under the dainty teal jewel necklace as, with growing remorse, Max felt something in his memories stir in sympathy with the man's words. He'd felt it earlier, too... The cool splash of liquid on the back of his hand earned a startled blink from the boy, realizing slowly that his lashes were thick with tears which had spilled down his cheek undetected. He was crying.. because the tale this man told was sad. Did it relate to something he'd known personally in the past? Loss? Grief? Pain? Yes.. But his tears were not for his own sake. Max was only reflecting and empathizing with his companion as was his nature, sincere and untroubled by his own crying as he continued to listen quietly to the end. It wasn't much of a reaction perhaps to most people, the calm stare and silent tears that met the tragedy's deliverance, but under the serene expression something had started to rally towards the bitter sadness and boiling rage of the man's plight. It wasn't a 'thought' so much as a 'feeling', something instinctive and long forgotten under years of death and revivals, but with it came a strange sense of interest in the youthful demon that latched onto the topic firmly. " You are not frightening." It was meant as a reassurance and a offer of comfort but his beryl stare didn't waver from his companion's face as the boy tightened his arms around his knees in a small sign of agitation.. a rather alien emotion to his usual temperament and one he wasn't quite sure how to deal with. " .. but you are suffering."

Death, betrayal, love, vengeance.. Even animals understood what it was to mourn something lost and Max wasn't an exception to the rule. It was harder for him at times to really pay attention to it but empathy had been a natural-born trait, the flighty personality he'd developed over lifetimes was a learned self defense of it. A deep, centering breath expanded his torso and Max paused for a few moments before releasing it; his body visibly relaxing with the exhale as the boy softly summarized the information from his perspective. " One bad person stole two precious people from you, one dead and one lost, and you want the one back that might still be alive regardless of who or what they are because they are 'yours' and 'hers'." That was logical and it told Max something very important that this man seemed to be overthinking with much anguish. " A child is a mixture of its parents, isn't it? You know yourself and you knew your mate.. so you will know the offspring as well." While it is true a part of him was trying to ease some of the guilt and grief of his friend Max honestly believed what he was saying and the conviction carried in his voice, allowing no room for doubt for either of them in the matter.

Maximum Hawthorn

Corrupted... Why that word in particular rang through his mind and filled him with dread Max couldn't begin to fathom as the hollow pain in his chest throbbed yet again and he felt a chill slip down his spine. " .. corrupta est per peccatum?" It was a whisper he didn't even realize he'd murmured, the words not his own but ones deeply embedded in the uneasy recesses of his soul. Slippery as an eel his mind rejected any trace of the potential fear and with a slow blink the uncomfortable sensation in his body started to fade back into his comfortable numbness; Max relaxing into the obliviousness with relief as he let himself focus on the 'now'. His friend had thanked him and that was enough. Nothing else mattered but the world in front of him, everything before it was unnecessary.

Never one to need much sleep Max never the less remained quiet as his companion started to doze; The boy waiting patiently until the man's breath softened before finally rising to his feet with purpose. Night was generally when he prowled his chosen homes, doing odd chores and prepping meals for the next morning. Alone, in the quiet darkness, there was comfort that was easy for the youth to understand. Careful not to make undue sound, so as to not disturbed his friend's rest, Max set about searching the tall grass for the discarded scalpel. In the growing dark it took a few moments but, ever the determined sort, he found the cool metal under his fingertips and deftly retrieved the soiled blade from the depths of the greenery. Wiping the dried blood from it he placed the blade by the fire to heat and sterilize while the next task called his attention.. Maxing absently yanking his shirt over his head and dropping it by his friend as his gaze drifted towards the lake below keenly. Now... for the breakfast.

-------- Small time skip --------

The scent of cooking fish was thick in the chilled air and Max absently yanked his still-dry shirt over his rather soaked head; The youth pulling his lengthy wet hair from under the fabric which was tucked into a surprisingly neat braid as he often did to it when working seriously on his tasks. He'd gathered some herbs from the nearby plant life and gutted/cleaned his fish near the shoreline to avoid gore near his cooking space.. The next bit of his time had just been setting up the skewers and spit-frame over the fire to cook them. He'd harvested some papery bark from the trees during his little jaunt for the sake of packaging, should he need to save the food for later.. Resting by the fire, absently minding his task of cooking, the demon's shoulders relaxed a little as a content smile slid across his face. This was right, this was 'normal'.. No matter where he ended up or with whom this was something he could. Of course he had every intention of helping his new friend find his way, Max was lost too and on some level he knew the Kitchen at the clinic would need cleaning when he returned to it, but.. he wasn't in a rush. Perhaps if they found a village the people could teach him about local dishes while they asked about the Witch and the child she'd taken.. " .. perhaps there is a recipe for cooking witch? Hmm.." The low musing of his thoughts earned a wrinkle of his nose as the boy silently laughed at the notion. If there wasn't one, maybe Solomon wouldn't mind him experimenting to make his own. It wasn't like they'd need the witch after she gave them what his friend demanded.

Maximum Hawthorn

It was a bit of a surprise, so focused on his work as he was, when Solomon stirred from his sleep and spoke.. Max's head snapping up as if from a daze as he tried to piece together what the man had said. A bath.. he finally mused to himself, briefly pondering if he needed such a thing himself before deciding his time swimming after fish hours before would serve well enough for now. Cheerfully waving in his friend's wake he didn't disturb the man's plans, simply continuing his cooking with a dedicated air.

Morning needs taken care of his companion returned and Max, still tending to his work, cocked his head to the side to listen as his friend settled down across the fire from him. He seemed calmer, the riot of emotions that had marked the man's features the night before were barely a whisper of a presence in the affable voice that left him now. In truth Max was glad for it, relieved that rest had improved the man's mood and offered Solomon some relief. " I'm still learning to cook, some techniques are consistent regardless of culture or time period.. but there is always something different to study in new places too. " Taking a moment to examine the fish skewer, sprinkled with the bits of sage he could find, Max nodded in approval before offering the stick to Solomon around the fire's reach. " Some cultures only cook to nourish and promote health in their diets, others seek only flavors and ignore the negative effects their meals have on them.. But food related deaths are unpleasant so I try to find a happy medium between the two. Which would you rather cook for, practicality or pleasure? "