8 Ymiden 719
She hated this place. The ghosts that floated about in their veils was unsettling. The gravestones of the dead, both present and future, were ominous and sinister to pass. Even the mausoleum, as well maintained by the spirits as it was, radiated a quietness that one could only associate with the coming of death rather than the arrival of eternal peace. As soon as she arrived she was reminded just how unsettling Famula's domain was. If she had it her way, she'd been off on her own still. Drunk, probably high too, but away from the soldiers' camps where she could marinate in her own anger. Faith had called though. So here she was.
Maxine had planted herself on an old stone bench in the middle of the graveyard. Her leg bounced, the itching of the need for a fix starting to manifest while she waited. Alcohol from her binging the night before still lingered in her veins. Like the trials before, the ex-convict had woken up drunk. In a few breaks she'd probably be rewarded for her antics with a raging headache until she indulged in more hair-of-the-dog.
Despite her intoxication as of late, she had noticed some things. The camp and the house had become busier. More ranking soldiers and familiar faces darted in and out of the residence with more frequency. Whispers carried a tone of urgency and concern. Soldiers began to train more noticeably in the yard. Something had happened. Some news had come in. Maxine didn't know what it was, nor did she make haste in asking. She merely traded in her empty bottle and lit a joint. Something told her she wouldn't remain in the dark of ignorance long. That unknown news was likely the reason she was called to meet here.
The waiting game had been excruciating. Every fiber in her body called for action, always action. Maxine was not a woman made to exercise restraint and bide her time. Qit'ria was dead. An army led by a Necromancer and her coven had her surviving friends in cross-hairs. Every instinct bid Max to find Ellasin first regardless of how blind she was in this hunt. Find her, tear her asunder, and return to Scalvoris to live out her trials throwing an unending party in the Red Hand. That had been the plan. Instead, without direction or focus, she'd spiraled. Her mind was consumed by her innate desire for revenge. It had to be fed.
"There's a lot of headstones here," Maxine remarked when she finally heard tell-tale foot steps. Her brown eyes looked over the graves that surrounded the bench in every which direction. "Must be a comfort, knowing where you'll go. Afterward." Her expression hardened. "Or an anxiety. Wondering how soon your sacred meeting place will become your final home." She leaned back against the stone support of the bench and tilted her head to instead watch Faith's arrival. "I'm here. What do you have for me?"
