Modern Fantasy
The following roleplay is a
private roleplay between
Modesty and SkullsandSlippers
.
While you are welcomed to
read along, we would please
ask that you send us a PM
asking before joining. Please
be aware that there may be
adult themes present in the
following writing. Thank-you.
private roleplay between
Modesty and SkullsandSlippers
.
While you are welcomed to
read along, we would please
ask that you send us a PM
asking before joining. Please
be aware that there may be
adult themes present in the
following writing. Thank-you.
Otherside
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Maxwell Catullus
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That evening was different. Maxwell had returned unexpectedly from his ‘business trip’ as he’d vaguely called it. His trips were frequent but varied, gone months to just a week. This time had just been three days. His ritual was the same each time. He’d lock himself up in his lavish study, barely sleeping or eating, as he poured over thick and dusty textbooks. At thirty-some odd years he had a Masters in languages, or so the document neatly framed behind his desk proclaimed.
This time, it was different.
Maxwell lounged on the leather couch in the living room. His feet, crossed at the ankles, rested on the coffee table. Beside him sat a barely touched mug of black coffee- the only way he’d ever drink it. The rich scent of a quality cigarillo, infused with vanilla, lingered though the smoke wafted out of the window of the penthouse suite. His eyes were distant as they stared at the blank television set his mind was elsewhere. A bound journal lay open in his lap, filled with Latin and varied symbols that created a complex algorithm necessary for his line of ‘work’.
To the few that knew Maxwell intimately, with heavy stress on few, it was quickly apparent that something was troubling him. Whatever tied his interest from present time would remain unspoken; none were as tightlipped or un-divulging as the dark haired, well-dressed man. His preferences bordered on isolationism in regards to personal matters or work, and it was only through a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy that he was able to live with another soul.
Rules. He was fond of them. Privacy topped the list along with respect. In no uncertain terms was orderliness and cleanliness within the first tier of his requirements as well, which was quickly obvious with an inspection of the sprawling apartment. Everything had its place, and remained there neatly stacked or folded. He had forgone labels, disliking their tendency to peel or the sticky residue they left behind. He had been pleased to come home to a clean apartment.
For the most part his roommate obeyed his odd, to some, but necessary desires. On occasion he’d find coffee cup stains or laundry on the floor or improperly folded towels and an argument would ensue. Those spats never lasted long and, like his rituals, always ended the same; more clothing on the floor, panting and their bodies pressed together whether against the wall, over the table or between the sheets. The aggression quickly dissipated. It was no wonder that they worked in cohabitation despite his distaste for the general population.
“Nemo omnia novit.” He mumbled, voice as distant as his gaze. His stray hand ran a finger across his lower lip, feeling the stubble of a six o’clock shadow forming. It was an absent movement triggered by thought. “Scientia sit potentia.”
While in the back of his mind he could hear the sound of steps coming closer that followed the ding of the elevator reaching the top, security-locked floor it wasn’t until the lock on the door turned with a click that he snapped back to reality. Max took a drag of his cigarillo, ashing it neatly in the dish beside his coffee cup. He never smoked unless things had gotten really bad. Free hand dropped from Maxwell’s face, replacing the ribbon bookmark and snapping the journal shut. Green eyes turned from tv to foyer, remaining still in his six-foot-four sprawl.
