[Little glass angel, fragile wings dashed to pieces, scattered fragments across the ground. Maxwell was but a broken icon before his paladin's feet, and to see him coiled in despair, as if to fruitlessly gather his shards of dignity, lifted that knight's feet to swift to his prince's aid.]

Ah'm here. Ah'm here, Maxwell.

[The light drifting through the canopy cast across his stolid and virile form, lifting away the bleak shadow that caused wicked things to shiver, and revealed the face of the compassionate mentor he had known not long ago. Though his brow had been beaten, and blood dried and moist slicked down the side of his face, he was smiling, glad to see his brother was in one piece. A broad hand offered to his, outstretched and welcoming of his grasp as Anderson's great form bent just slight at the knee to reach his crestfallen friend.]

Can ye stain?