'Deviant? No, that's only seven. Devious? No, that's also seven. Am I stupid? What about devoted? Why are all words seven letters? What the fuck?'
As he traveled through the Alchemaze on his bird with Mio happily jiggling due to the air pressure, Ackster tried to come up with what the word for his profession might be. He wasn't having any luck.
'Demure? That's six, and I don't even know what it means.'
Ackster sighed. Words weren't his strong suit.
'Destitute? …eight, nine. I feel like Wilma would be good at this. Or Kargas, maybe.'
Ackster wondered if the Alchemaze would have a dictionary somewhere that he could use.
'In the first place, none of the words I know sound like professions.'
Nothing Ackster had come up with had sounded like something he could do as a way of life, except maybe 'deviant.' But he didn't want that as a profession. It also didn't align with how he had lived or done to change his profession.
