Appearance: Maxima is 5’ 3”. She is quarter-Chinese, and she has dark orange eyes and brown hair that is often chopped off messily in a tinkering rage. She usually wears practical work clothes and thick steel-toe boots.
Godly parent: Daughter of Vulcan
Powers: Pyrokinesis - the ability to control fire as well as being completely immune to being burned by fire. This ability can be used to control heat, fire, and lava. Technokinesis - the ability to either manipulate machines by physically animating them or controlling them like puppets, or communicate with machines, technology, lamps, vacuums, or any other machine.
Bio: Maxima was born into a lower-class family. Her mother, Marena, was a skilled craftsperson in both large and small crafts. Marena specializes in ornate detailing, but her handiwork is underappreciated because she is a woman working in a “man’s” field. Max is equally as talented as her mother in detailing, but also can understand fine details in machinery. She has chosen to focus on applying her skills to weaponry and thus is skilled in forging and detailing a variety of weapons. When Max turned six, Lupa took her to the Wolf House to be trained. Max keeps in limited contact with her mother, and she will occasionally visit her. Max’s only sibling, her older brother Fai, was murdered when Max was 14. Fai worked at a clothing store, and an enraged customer shot him when he refused to let them past to the backroom, where the other employees were hiding.
Other: Likes: chocolate oranges, solitude, snakes, sarcasm, taking things at her own pace Dislikes: every other kind of sweet, guns, being told what to do, complete darkness, people She is blunt and insensitive, but fiercely loyal once she considers someone family.
"I'm not so sure if your powers will work on sicknesses, but I'd like to stay out here if that's cool with you. It's warm," he says, burying his toes in the sand with a contented sigh.
He obligingly turns away, then turns back when she finishes. "I'm gonna stay up here. Still not feeling as strong as usual," he says, settling down in the sand a few feet from the edge of the water. "So what have you been up to while I was sick?" Stupid human body. So weak. Yeah? Why didn't you help then? I tried! Then was it a weak body? . . . asshole.
A hand on Artimes' elbow slows her minutely. "Would you mind the company?" Adam asks. He is dressed more freely than he has in the last few days, and his loose-fitting shirt sways gently at his waist.