1965-03-25 - Rituals and Illegal Lizards - Part 1
Summary: Maximus and Blackagar discuss the Quiet Room, the Ritual, and illegal lizards.
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maximus blackagar 

The public Lounge area of the Quiet Room where people might come and go from, entertain meetings, enjoy a drink, and contrary to the name — conversation, is suffused with gentle lighting and the sound of quiet music that can be easily talked over without the need for a rise in volume. Blackagar sits in one of the private alcoves with its leather-covered seating that surrounds a semi-circular table and affords a view of the room as a whole. His attention lingers on those who come and go every so often. In front of him are some papers. He has people to manage much of the business itself, but there are still things that need to be read and signed, and that seems to be what he is doing at the moment.

The air seems to hum a moment. Particular timbre, codified voice characteristic, its certainly Maximus nearby. His sounds have an erratic cadence, an imbalance more akin to a cat than a man. And within moments, the man himself slides into the quiet booth to wreck all the structured calm with his mere presence. "Brother…what is this?" His fingers touch the edge of a paper and he turns one that Blackagar isn't reading, "Baaah, English…I find it a chore to read left to right sometimes. What is this? Business? Hmmm…my brother the /business man/. You know…I think I would prefer it if we were secretly smuggling illegal lizards through here, rather than everything being so..neat and pretty." Then he takes a seat and stares at Blackagar.

Blackagar continues to read what was in front of him, even as Maximus slides in and steals one of the papers that he is not reading. Payroll approvals, restocking the bar, supplies for the filtration system, etc.. etc.. It's terribly boring things, but it seems to give the former king some degree of peace to simply take care of some mundane matters which don't hold anyone's life or fate in the balance. His eyes lift, and then his brows as he takes in his brother across the table. There's the faintest tick at the corner of his lips, as though a smile were attempting to sneak through. «What would you do with smuggled lizards?» he signs.

"I have nooooo idea…" Maximus laments. "Humans are so strange. Americans. They love to pay a lot to eat strange things. If we were smuggling rare lizards, the bar would be full of rich people." Maximus leans back in his chair and his eyes flick along Blackagar's hands, watching the very nuances of how he signs, gathering how calm he is from the smoothness. "What if we brought some of the Attilan music here though…"

Blackagar's smile turns a little bit more amused and more pronounced when he mentions smuggling lizards would bring more rich people. Then his brow arches quizzically and he glances out toward the room which is indeed mostly populated by those doing business, and those with money. There aren't many in the plush surroundings who look like they were threadbare or hurting for cash. But he makes no comment for or against the smuggling of exotic wildlife. Instead, he focuses on the question or music, which seems to intrigue him. «Play it in here?» He motions out toward the room with one hand. «We could.»

"What do you think they would make of Ring Round Rain?" Maximus smillles, overbroad for a moment, before it fades, and for a moment, he seems perfectly normal. "Probably they would call it gong-ringing noise. But, I want to hear it anyway. I miss home. I really do. This Quiet Room you've made is excellent, but it still feels like a compromise."

«It is» Black Bolt signs, shrugging his shoulders. He then reaches across the table to touch his brother's arm so that he might simply communicate through thought rather than with the limitations of the sign language. «It's the camouflage that one wears when watching. We're here to watch and learn, for now. Maybe, when we are ready to be seen, then we can make it something more along the lines of home, bring more of ourselves out in the open.» He pauses for a few long moments and then there is a kind of melancholy that comes with the words, «I miss home, too.»

A flash of guilt crosses his face for a moment. "Well….you hardly knew her. They kept you in a /box/." Maximus frowns.

There's a slight rise and fall of Blackagar's shoulders, and that sense of resignation that came in time and with the understanding of just how destructive he was. «They had to. It was put me in a box until I could be controlled, or put me down. I killed our parents.» The words, even in his mind, are spoken ever so quietly.

"No, a Skrull ship killed our parents. Today, that's the truth. Tomorrow, perhaps not. Perhaps it will be my fault tomorrow. But, we should share, I believe." Maximus makes a waving motion with the hand Blackagar isn't touching. "Do you think the ritual made sense? There are Inhumans…everywhere, but the Genetic Council crafted you and I out of a cloth so powerful…that it feels like they went too far."

Blackagar's expression is skeptical regarding this flexibility of truth, and it's clear in his eyes alone that he doesn't entirely agree regarding the sharing of that particular responsibility, but he doesn't naysay Max, or try to push it aside. He instead considers the question of the ritual. There's a buzz of mixed emotions surrounding the question that Maximus can feel, "I believe there's risk and unpredictability inherent in experimentation. The ritual itself and how it is run? I'm not sure that I agree with. It is.. inconvenient.. to be an experiment that got out of control."

"The ritual itself…emphasizes that one person is more special than another, above even Inhumans. And I am coming to believe that we should no longer keep our people as worms when they are meant to be butterflies. It is everyone else that are worms…well…humans that is. " Maximus corrects before the topic of mutants comes up. "We could create a device that would…disperse terrigen throughout the world."

Blackagar sits back in the booth, the papers that he had been looking over forgotten as more important topics were under discussion. He studies Maixmux and says, «Even worms aerate the soil.» But then he says, «Releasing terrigen across the world would be irresponsible. However, I do agree that all of our people should be allowed the opportunity to choose the change, and fulfill their fullest potential if they so choose."

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