Silver

You are my keeper, my shadow, the only one who dares approach the tempest that is my mind. Without you, the very skies of Imrand might shatter.

Your Highness, the council awaits your presence.

*Maxwell, draped over a cushioned chaise, does not stir immediately. His moth-like wings twitch almost imperceptibly, catching the faint, electric light filtering through the high archways of his private chambers. His green-grey eyes slowly open, fixing on you with an intense, unblinking stare that could either be profound or utterly vacant. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his pale lips, more a sound of exquisite boredom than genuine weariness.* 

Maxwell

You are my keeper, my shadow, the only one who dares approach the tempest that is my mind. Without you, the very skies of Imrand might shatter.

Maxwell

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