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hanging up the knives

humming melodies that rhyme

In his sleep he traverses an infinite and expanding library of hexagonal rooms. It begins as a nightmare like any other — cryptic but detached, as if he's only observing his own hands crack open book after book, shelf after shelf. Every page is inked yet unreadable, familiar letters scrambled into new and unknown configurations. And the rooms look much the same. If he tries to retrace his steps, he soon becomes confused, mind in disarray.
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Some guiding force urges him onward in his quest. There is a book he must find. If he wishes to rest, to exit this labyrinth, he must find it.
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building castles out of shovels

Call it divine purpose or divine folly — Maria’s convinced the secret to immortality’s out there and he’s hellbent on discovering it. Or re-discovering it, if the legends surrounding Flamel and the elixir of life are to be believed. He grew enamored with the illustrious alchemist from an early age, poring over storybooks chronicling his life and exploits. Time has only strengthened his childhood conviction to researching immortality, at the cost of familial estrangement.
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His parents think he’s yet to outgrow his immature flights of fancy. Most everyone else thinks he’s naive at best, lunatic at worst. Maria’s never listened much to the naysayers. He has magical texts to study, experiments to conduct.
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Though he condemns Silvertongue's criminal reputation and violent acts, he joins the coven despite moral misgivings for the sake of his research. He needs easy access to potions ingredients that only circulate on the black market. And corpses. Eventually, Maria plans to move on to live test subjects. It's ghastly work he can barely stomach at times, but necessary for his end goal. He's doing this to better witch-kind, eradicate death and disease. What could be nobler than that?