Fantasy Brimstone Noir (FULL)

[The Awakened Moon]

Val waited outside in the cold for someone to respond, shoving her hands back in her pockets. By now, all she wanted to do was take off her coat and free her trapped wings from it's daily torture of having to be covered. Well, that was quite an exaggeration, but after a whole day of practically stuffing her wings into hiding underneath layers of coats and sweaters, Val wanted nothing more than to take off her coat. She glanced at the box in which the voice came through, smiling just the tiniest bit as she received the unique greeting from no one other than Mal himself. She could recognize his voice, even through the old intercom.


“Just let me in please” she replied to his greeting, soon hearing the buzz of the door unlocking. She opened the door and made her way up to the office. As soon as she walked in, she started to take off her coat. “Thank you” she smiled at Ash. “Sorry, I was out so late” she apologized to everyone in the office. “I was at the hospital and this little girl-” She started to explain her situation, practically walking past Mister Bradshaw while she was making her way to her own desk. Once she realized he was there, she immediately froze, keeping her coat on. Confused at first from not knowing why he was there, Val snuck a few glances at her co-workers. She noticed that all of them, or at least mostly all, had been working with the man about something. Val came to the conclusion that this human had possibly had some type of confrontation with something supernatural. She took in the man’s appearance. To Val, he looked as if he just had a small encounter with Death itself from his pale face and how disheveled he looked even while wearing something as formal as a suit.


She continued to slowly walk toward her desk after making eye contact with the man. “What happened?” she asked curiously to her co-workers. “Who’s this?” She sat at her desk, finally taking her coat off and letting it hang off the back of her seat. Val still had a sweater on so her wings were still covered. Besides, she didn’t want to completely freak out the human in the room even more than he already looked.

 

[_Line 213]

"This," Mal began, peeling away from the doorway and returning to his desk once Val had entered the room, "is Mister Marcus Brandshaw. He's from the Wingworthy Natural History Museum. His friend the curator has been attacked by...Something, and he wants us to deal with it." Mal pulled his coat from the back of his chair, shifting it over his shoulders and pushing his hands through. A sloppy fit, as most of his clothes were, not to mention an oddly formal item, compared to the rest of his getup; a sweater, jeans, and red Converse sneakers. His clothes were just as much of a mismatch as Mal himself. "Right. Well if we're heading for the museum, I'm gonna go warm up the car and bring it around so we don't have to sit in it for five minutes before driving," Mal mentioned, mostly to Harian, before starting on his way out of the room. He raised a now-gloved hand, pointing at the rest of those within before slipping out of the door. "I'll ring the front doorbell when the car's ready, if you're coming, don't take too long." And with that, the demon was gone.


Marcus Brandshaw pursed his lips, waiting for the demon to exit, before letting out a bit of a nervous sigh, resolving to continue with the questioning. "From...What little I could gather from Mister Crane, it seemed that whatever it was stumbled in the presence of his amulet, striking him in the shoulder, before retreating, just like that. I'm not actually sure that Mister Crane had a moment to get a good look at whatever it was that accosted him. I tried to get him to divulge such information when we last talked, of course, but I was unable to pull forth anything all that helpful." He took another moment to dab at his forehead, lips pressed once again. "...Ah, but yes, his office is at the museum. Second floor, amongst the side-offices. If I'm with you, I'm sure that museum security wouldn't give you much trouble when it comes to getting there."











Lucas came to a stop in front of something that was far from a centerpiece of the exhibition; as far as many could tell, it was little more than a curiosity, a little bit of passing flavor that was more or less in line with the gallery as a whole. Several other visitors swept past Lucas and the object of his attention as he came to a stop, babbling on and on as they approached some other relic within the hall.


But, if Lucas was any indication, the staff was still not without its admirers. Another man slowly strode towards the unassuming relic, hands in the pockets of his simple jacket. He nodded lightly as he took in the form of the thing before him, a curious set of eyes peeling away and landing on Lucas after taking a moment to observe the staff. He offered a smile, the sort of smile that made it clear that conversation was about to begin. He seemed friendly and normal enough, light brown skin, a strong jawline, and a head shaven several days ago and only just beginning to regrow.


"Pretty interesting little thing, isn't it? Wonder why they stuck it all the way over here, seems like the sort of thing that more people would be interested in, don't you think?"

 

[zCrookedz]

Lucas looked the staff up and down several times through the clear glass display case. It was exactly as it had been before, accept this time Lucas wasn't trying to fiddle with some flashlight while trying to perform the complex ritual to dispell the wards that had been placed over the staff. They had been old, so Lucas hadn't had any problems weakening them. But when the night guard had come around the corner and nearly found Lucas with his hand stuck through the glass to retrieve it, he had to bolt before he could take the staff. Something Jimbo had not let him live down since the incident.


Now Lucas was once more eyeing over the staff with a slightly greedy exspression. The plan was simple, Lucas would create a shadow clone of the staff which would replace the original for several hours. Then he would remove the staff, store it away with a little magic trickery, and simply walk out the front door with the original. It was quick, simple, and lastly, it had to be done. However, Lucas had not been expecting what happened next. 


As the new observer aproached, Lucas let his face become rigid with annoyance for the slightest split second before turning to the man. How shaven head made Lucas think how cold it must be in this weather. The light brown skin and strong jaw gave  the man a bit of an exotic look that Lucas couldn't help but find pleasure in. He gave the man a polite nod and looked back to the statue.


"Oui monsieur, but, zhere ah so many statues wizhen zhe exibit, it would be impossible for zhem to show zhem all, yes? It iz up to us to find zhe, 'idden treasures, among what zhe commoners see."


Lucas looked back to the man with a sly smile as he spoke, trying to get a bead on if this was simply an observer, or something more.


@_Line 213

 

[Rhakun]

"No, sir. I don't think so."


"Hmph." The man frowned. "Well, I'm afraid you won't be coming any further then."


"What do you mean?"


"I mean you're getting out of here pronto, you catch me, lassie?"


"Well! I..."


"Out!"


A voice rose inside the museum. This was compromising. Heads turned. Silence was made.


Stupid, stupid, stupid. Marina thought. All these measures are terrible! This... this... C'est vraiment stupide! Une folie! Cet garde imbécile devrait d'être dans une benne publique! She said to herself, trotting angrily out of the line and the building that building that led to the main hall. Wingworthy hadn't had any serious security measures in her last visits, but this time, a metal detector was in place. She had brought her heaviest winterwear with her; consisting of multiple steel zippers on the coat she wore. Taking it off would put her feathers in open display and that was a straight spotting that could. When asked to take it off, she would not comply and that got her kicked out of the museum.


Frustrated and slightly mad, Marina stood on the sidewalk. However, now more than before it was a matter of imperative importance to get inside. Metal detectors meant that the situation was more attention worthy than she had previously thought. Powdered by curiosity and anger, she walked around the old Capitol until she found a lone, moderately open window.


Bingo.


Climbing as silently as her ability allowed it, Marina got inside; behind a statue of Neanderthals on the "Dawn of Man" corridor. As luck would have it, there were no cameras around (Maybe, being a room filled of cheap wax figures, next to the heavily vigilated main hall, the architects decided to spare the budget a little). Nobody spotted her, but it sure would be bothersome, Marina thought, if the guards or the people in the line found her sneaking in the exhibits. Her job would be checking in quick and getting out quicker. She headed forward unto what seemed to be an Egyptian section, only to spot Lucas in the corner of her eye, talking to what seemed to be another guard.


A new face, it seems? Well, he certainly did get here before me; I'll give the fella a charm point.


Sneaking behind the walls, Marina found a spot to hide and eavesdrop. Camouflaged between two gray granite columns and a panther's statue, she stood and observed the situation progress.

 

[_Line 213]

The other fellow returned the offered smile with a slightly larger one of his own, yet he did not seem to give any details away, at least from a cursory glance. "You don't sound like you're from around here," he mentioned, turning his eyes back to the artifact as he spoke. His voice was smooth, yet it still carried the faintest trace of some sort of accent; it wasn't quite placeable, considering the strange, airy vagueness of it, yet it was nonetheless apparent.


"France, I'm guessing?" the man ballparked, flicking his eyes back to Lucas. This time, the other observer took in the man's clothes, chuckling a little to himself. "You must be one of those frenzied academics. Did you come all the way out here for the new exhibit in a few days? I heard that quite a lot of people have, though that's just from the news and so on."


The pair had gained an eavesdropper, though the unfamiliar man Lucas spoke to did not seem to notice her in the slightest. Neither did any of the other visitors to the museum; what few that glimpsed her from the corners of their vision assumed her to be nothing more than another guest, unworthy of their memory or attention.

 

[avira]

Ashana, The Smoke of God's Anger


As Mal left, Ashana added a new car to her mental list of wants for the office that she'll never get. With a sigh, she shut her notebook. " Alright then, Mister Bradshaw. I suppose that's that." Ashana began to pack her things, stuffing the notebook and her tablet into a Saint Laurent black leather bag. She swung her coat off her chair and laid it on her shoulders.  "Next stop, the museum. Lizard boy is already warming the car. Who else is coming?" 


Ashana began her descent towards the front entrance without waiting for any answers. She wondered how they would all fit in their banged up car, or if everyone was going. There weren't enough seats, they'd have to squeeze. Perhaps they would split up? It did seem a little overzealous to have every member of their team interviewing Crane at the same time. "Make sure you lock up if we're all going," she called up the landing.


@_Line 213

 

[zCrookedz]

Lucas shift a bit so his legs mad a bit of an A frame while he rested both of his hands on his cane before him. This newcomer had Lucas' mind fixated on figuring out who he was. If he was just some passer by, then surely he would move on shortly to the next piece of the exhibit. But if he wasn't, was he here for the staff as well? Did he know what this seemingly simple piece of ancient history had within it? Lucas was not about to let his prize slip through his hands again. Beneath him, ever so slightly, Lucas' shadow shimmered for a split second. The shimmer ceased when the man spoke up about Lucas not being from New Promise. Lucas met the man's alluring smile with his own as he dipped his head. 


"Oui, Bordeaux to be exact."


Lucas like his secrets. He liked learning new secrets, and he found ways to obtain them any way he could. What he didn't like, was giving away secrets. He was not about to tell this stranger where he was from. But he would most certainly try and figure more out about him. Lucas lifted his right hand from his cane and held it towards the man.


"Eugene Morellus, à votre service. As for zhe interest in zhe exibit you could say zhat I am a bit of a ,connoisseur , of itemz wiz dark backgroundz."


Lucas smile, charming as ever, stretched across his face as he spoke to the man.


Lucas felt his pocket vibrate ever so slightly. He did not dare look down, drawing attention to Jimbo was not something he wanted to do at all. Luckily, Lucas had been with Jimbo long enough now to know what had just happened to the little shrunken head. As a totem for the Loa Baron Samedi, Jimbo had a very close connection to the plains of the dead and those that were privy to it. It happened every now and then, but occasionally Jimbo would sense something nearby that would set his senses off, thus giving him "the shakes" as the little head liked to call it. Something had just come within range of Jimbo enough to set him off, but until he could glance around without drawing too much attention to the situation, Lucas remained concentrated on the man next to him. For now. 


@_Line 213 @Rhakun

 

[_Line 213]

"Ah, well nice to meet you," the man replied, extending his own hand. It seemed that he wasn't quite expecting an introduction, yet there one was nonetheless. He nearly seemed to give a little chuckle as the two clasped hands. "Monty," he went on supplying his own name, "nothing all that interesting by comparison, I'm afraid." He broke out into a grin, still seeming good-natured enough.


From Marina's perspective, the two went on and on, Lucas's patron still failing to notice the eavesdropper. And yet, a more immediate problem was in the process of presenting itself, all without even the problem itself taking notice. The thickness of the crowd passing by Marina's vantage point had been thinning with time, yet this only served to make the approach of an incoming security guard all the more noticeable; his light hum echoed through the hallway, carrying from a corner just out of sight of the woman and her partner. Without any view of the man, he would be indistinguishable from any other guest. It was the momentary buzz and muffled voice of an intercom on his belt that truly gave him away.


@zCrookedz @Rhakun

 

[SilverFlight]

"I'll meet you all there." Hairan said as she placed a slate-grey fedora over her spiky black hair. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door to keep the heat in before heading not down to the front door but up. The stairs led all the way to a small, flat roof and it was here Harian went, standing out on the edge of it and looking over the glittering city. How she hated it. The fact that her employer had not given her any idea of how long this enslavement was going to last put an even more repulsive filter on the landscape.


Suck it up Harian, and try to have a little fun. She told herself.


With a resigned smile she stepped back from the roof, then, she flung herself wholeheartedly from it. In a twist of smoke and shadow her form shrank down into a sleek crow and with a caw it caught itself with broad, coal-black wings and banked in the direction of the large aging building that was the city museum.


The bricks were like ice under her talons. Really, how did normal birds stand out here all day? She slighted close to a skylight that had been left ajar at the rear of the museum. She couldn't detect any immediate wards on the building so she proceeded, if a little more slowly. Shrinking down again into a wasp she slid inside and drifted purposefully to a shadowy corner where she became human once more. The coat and hat were a part of her essence, she merely took them off at the agency for show. Her infiltration had put her in a corridor near the Egyptian exhibits and just for fun Harian decided to see how many of her previous master's possessions had been encased here. She strolled casually into the room behind a disinterested couple, just another visitor in the museum.


It was the staff that caught her eye. She hadn't seen anything like it in ages. A tiny smile caught on her lips as she hovered closer.

 

[Rhakun]

Nothing beyond casual chit-chat, it seems. How dazzingly boring.


To Marina's criteria, this wasn't being very informative. What had she learned? Monsieur Morellus, native of the wine tourist's favourite rivertown, Bordeaux, was an expert on the matter of souvenir spooks. By what she could make of the look of his attire, he did look the part of a voodoo enthusiast; maybe New Orléans or Haití style. Being a little quick to judge after the fluster of breaking into a guarded building, she thought he could be, if anything, an awkward Aquitanian tourist figuring the ropes of American social taboos by taking whatever extravagance he could hook on to the limits. In her experience, more than a few boarding students did that after the culture shock.


It was then that she sensed a wrenching twitch coming from his leg; the essence of death. In her experience this was a straightforward signal of bad news, but Morellus didn't look any different than a few seconds before. Morrígan's signals, however, were exclusively reactive and would not be triggered unless something moribund was around. Marina was startled after this; up to that point, she had guessed that the other man was the one with something secretive, evading disclosure and directing the conversation towards his interlocutor's trivia. This Monty guy, she thought, was even shadier than the Frenchman.


She wanted to know more, however, the danger she associated to the essence of death outweighed any further will she had to stay in that spot. as discreetly as possible, she hid her flip phone there on the default, blurry voice recorder to catch as much of the conversation as possible. She could buffer it later and, were it to be taken, she was more than sure that nobody would pass her custom passwords. Thus she proceeded, now in plain sight, further into the hall. She took the chance to take a critical look at the pair in front of Anubis, trying to catch any traits. She faintly caught both of their faces, thinking they had not looked at her back, and turned about.


It was then that she spotted Harian approaching the exhibit. She clumsily beckoned at her, trying not to raise her arms too much.

 

[_Line 213]

Coughing a little, Mister Brandshaw stood, as it seemed that they were about to make their way to the museum. Quickly shuffling his coat back onto his person, he followed Ashana down the stairs, closing the door behind him. "Ah, would you mind if I came with you in your car? I took a taxi here, and I-I'm afraid that I didn't think to make them wait outside while I conducted my business," he stated, his words coming out in a bit of a rambling pace as he moved to catch up with her. Truly, his day had taken a turn for the strange, and the man, both inwardly and outwardly, had no idea what to make of what had become of his career at current.











Part-way through the conversation, Monty, as he had introduced himself, slipped a quick glance towards Marina as she passed, still in the midst of his friendly smile as he did so. If the woman did not know better, it was almost a look of familiarity, as if the man were sure that the two of them had met before. Yet, memories and experiences considered, such a thing was impossible; a mistake on his part, perhaps.


Yet, as soon as he had glanced at her, he turned his attention back to Lucas, his attention not once wavering from the man's words as they conversed.


And, in turn, the security guard strode in past the corner, making his rounds and earning his pay. This one did not seem to be one of those stationed at the entrance, and the majority of his attention did not seem to be focused on any one person in particular, at least at the moment; instead, his gaze swept up and down the exhibits, glancing to anyone that happened to draw too close, as he made his way through the hallway. And yet, as his eyes fell on Marina, he came to a slow stop, smiling, before striding a little closer to her.


"Excuse me, ma'am? You're aware that we have a coat check, if you wish to use it, right? You seem to be a little warm in that," he said, his tone warm and genuinely friendly as he gestured to her coat.


@Rhakun

 

[Rhakun]

She hadn't accounted for such a direct confrontation this early. He looked at the man a few seconds, not saying anything in particular. Her cover was usually blown and she did have back up plans for when that happened; but this question came from a rather unexpected source, at a rather unexpected time and her confusion, much to her frustration, was facially visible. She dozed for a bit thinking of a way to pull it through; Well, the guy on the Anubis booth was rocking a hard accent. How unnatural would another one be? Wingworthy seemed, rather surprisingly, very French-filled today. If all went well, she could just be dismissed as a tourist by this gentleman.


"Pardon?... Ah yes! Excusez-me, misterr! I vas asked zomessing similair about it ven I came in." She said, mixing her French pronunciation with English as naturally and quietly as possible; making a moderately ditzy tone (which, to her judgement, American films portrayed french women with every so often) so her voice couldn't be exactly recalled. After giving him a grateful smile, she went on. "Zanks for ze offer, but I'd really like to keepit onn. However," she said, now a little soflty and damsel-like "iiu could help mee vith zomessing else~"


@_Line 213

 

[aniking]

YAO NING


姚宁


Ning was present, if silent, during the briefing with Mister Brandshaw. It would have been easy to overlook him; he didn't take up much space, and he tended to occupy a corner of the office that was furthest from everyone's respective electronics, so as not to cause interference or, at worst, corrupt any data. Being a ghost in the Digital Age was a cumbersome thing. In any case, he didn't have any immediate questions that his coworkers hadn't already asked, so he had seen no need to speak to the human before. He spoke his first words of the last while only after the human had hurried after Ashana down the stairs. Like Harian, Ning also planned to travel to the museum via other means.


Satisfied that he wouldn't have to suffer through a ride in the esteemed "company car", and comfortable in displaying his ghosthood now that the human could no longer see him, Ning took the opportunity to shift into his invisible, mist-like full-state and slip through the office wall and into the cold December air. From there, it was only a matter of "flying" (for lack of a better term) to the museum. He decided that he was in no rush, besides, he didn't want to be waiting too long for the rest of his coworkers. He slid through the museum walls before choosing a suitably obscured corner in which to materialize. From there, he proceeded as one of the crowd of visitors. He was thankful for winter, for it made him appear less out of place in his dark trench coat and thick scarf. In summer, his clothing looked ridiculous. Once inside the main hall, he paused a little ways away from the entrance to await those unfortunate enough to be stuck riding in the car. Ning was not a curious person, and he had little interest in the other exhibits. Patiently watching the entrance was just fine for him.

 

[_Line 213]

The security guard opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came immediately; it seemed that her refusal to remove his coat was more than enough for him, but at the request of something else entirely, and in that particular accent, it became clear that he was about to get into a little more than he had initially intended. Even so, such was his job; he looked over his shoulder briefly, as if hoping that there was another guard nearby that he would be able to push her request on, but, seeing no one, he resigned to doing it himself.


"Well, sure, ma'am, what is that you need?" he asked, turning back to her as he rubbed at his jaw, "directions? Did you lose something?"


@Rhakun

 

[avira]

Ashana, The Smoke of God's Anger


"You are our client, Mister Bradshaw," she replied, without a glance.  Ashana made her way down the last flights of stairs, heels clicking with each step. There was something satisfying about hearing them. "Of course you are welcome to come with us."  As Bradshaw followed behind her, she took out a silk burgundy scarf from her purse and wrapped it around her neck. The cold winter months of New Promise were almost enough to freeze hell over, ever for a poor shade. "After all, customer satisfaction is our number one goal." The sarcasm rolled off her tongue, almost literally accompanying the wisps of smoke escaping the corners of her mouth.


Ashana peered through the windows of the large double doors of the building's front entrance. "Now, If only we could find our driver we'd be on our way."


@_Line 213

 

[zCrookedz]

Lucas was beginning to grow a bit frustrated with distraction this "Monty" fellow was causing for Lucas. The longer he waited the more time he wasted, and Lucas hated wasting time more than anything. FInally he got his chance. It was so brief, that had Lucas waited a moment longer, he would have missed it. Monty, glanced away for a split second. In that second Lucas' shadow, which had begun to stretch into the width of a single hair towards the statues own shadow, disapeared completely beneath him. Lucas wasn't concerned with any normal humans noticing, he had found that most humans do not notice the hair under their own noses most of the time. 


Lucas shadow was in place, step one done. But now Monty's attention was fixed back on Lucas and their conversation. Lucas would need a moment more before he could remove the staff, and he still had to concentrate on the shadow under the statue. His dilemma was solved from a very unlikely place, when a horrible Hollywood french accent brushed Lucas' ears. He turned, hoping that his own intrest in the woman standing with the guard would give Monty the same idea to observe the situation going on behind them. He spoke to Monty in as normal a tone as he could muster, while continuing to draw his attention bat towards the guard and the woman. 


"Et iz quite lively in 'ere today, no?"


@_Line 213  @Rhakun 

 

[Rhakun]

"Of course! Is zere anysssing iiu can tell me about l'exhibition d'Anubis? Zat one, next to the two gentlemen" She said, as curiously as her voice could allow her to express it. "Truth is, I do not vant to bother zem at all, zey seem... comment tu dit...? Interested! verry interested!"


She felt a gaze piercing her with the same intensity she pressured over corny, "franco" movie scenes. The only guess she could muster was that Morellus caught her voice, in some form or another. These stretches of speech might pass as legitimitate to any person, but she knew firsthand that native speakers found them either fake or extremely annoying. Apologizing internally, both to Audrey Tautou and a man whom she thought that now judged her as an Americanized snob, she continued.


"but 'tis ze only zing I've yet to see in zis roome. so could iiu, monsieur le garde, tell me any trivia of it?"

 

[_Line 213]

"Oh yes, certainly," Monty said with a smile, turning his eye out at the crowd. It had, in truth, been far more active merely an hour earlier; the crowd had been thinning for a while now as the late afternoon began to drag on into the last handful of visiting hours. Yet, there were still more than enough people around for the hall to qualify as busy. "If we're being honest, I suppose that I wasn't expecting this little exhibit to gather as many people as it has. Not that I'm complaining, I suppose, it certainly is interesting enough."


Not too far away from Monty and Lucas, a second conversation of sorts began, a barely-there expression of confusion and, perhaps, discomfort, briefly showing on the face of the guardsman. He cleared his throat, glancing around at several of the exhibits, either in an attempt to remember what little he could about them, or to ensure that no one was up to any mischief right away. So far, so good. "...Well, ma'am, I'm afraid that for the most part I'm just a security guard," he said with a well-meaning smile, "there's only so much I could really tell you about what's going on here, but, uh...If the signs are giving you a little trouble, I suppose I could function as an interpreter for a little while. I'd have to get back to my rounds eventually, full disclosure, but I could hang around for at least a little while, I suppose."















Almost as if on cue, Mal brought the "company car" around the corner, pulling it to a stop in front of the pair, reaching over to unlock the front passenger door, before leaning back over. The sound of the radio was already present on the inside, and the demon impatiently rapped his gloved fingers against the steering wheel.


The car, much like the majority of the other things involving Brimstone, was a hand-me-down from another era entirely. Though some might consider the car to have a bit of Seventies Charm, to Mal, the thing was just old. It certainly looked the part; in the hands of a good body shop, it might serve as a thrilling throwback to the Muscle Car era, but "excess funding" was not something that the small agency had. It was all they could do to make sure that the entire grey paint-job wasn't peeling.


"Gonna take us about an hour to get over there, so let's hurry up. The others are probably more or less on their way. I'll drive up by the front of the building when we get there and drop you--" he paused, narrowing his eyes and craning his neck in order to get a look at Mister Brandshaw, upon spotting him, "you two in front of the museum when we get there. I'm gonna have to drive around the block a few times to see if I can find some parking."

 

[zCrookedz]

Lucas couldn't help but feel the corner of his mouth twitch into a bit of a grin when he saw Monty's eyes divert to the conversation between the guard and the young woman in the coat. He had gotten his diversion, and it was finally time for him to act. Lucas felt his connection to his shadow like a second arm as it writhed around the bottom of the anubis statues feet. Then, the shadow jumped, creeping up the staff's length all the way to the top. It didn't take long, and for those far enough away the shadow passing over the staff looked like nothing more than the shadow of a bird flying outside the window beside it. It flew up and over the staff, and in the blink of an eye, the shadow was gone once more. Lucas realized he had been holding in his breath for the duration of the switch, and slowly released it in the form of a muffled chuckle. He felt the shadow return to the base of the statue and then once more return to Lucas' feet. 


Lucas gave his cane a quick bounce and turned back towards Anubis with a bit of a grin upon his face. His job was done, now all he had to do was rid himself of this Monty fellow, and leave the museum. The shadow clone of the staff would last for no more than an hour, which Lucas wanted to be back home well before then. He glanced over his handy work of the staff and then to Monty as he mentioned the crowds. 


"Oui, It iz even more interesting zat zhis particular exzibit be placed wiz'in a Natural 'Istory Museum."


Lucas ears picked up on the guard and the woman with the "accent". With her mentioning the anubis statue and their prolonged interest in the piece, Lucas pulled at his coat a bit before motioning to Monty with a tip of his hat. 


"Ah, well, it would seem zat we 'ave been keeping zis fine piece to ourselvez for too long. It was a pleasure, Monsieur Monty."


His goal, once Monty had acknowledged his departure, was to leave the way he had come in, hoping to avoid the woman and the guard she had attracted. 


@_Line 213 @Rhakun @SilverFlight

 

[Rhakun]

"Oh~! I zink I can do zat myself, sirr." She said, laughing it off in a dainty manner. Deep inside, however, she cringed at the mention of the words If the signs are giving you a little trouble. The guard must have been well-meaning; however, that sounded extremely patronizing to her and, was she not trying to pull an act that would hide her persona, her reaction might've been very different. If anything, she internally repeated to herself in a matter of consolation that at least her voicing was believable enough to convince a regular passerby.


"And it seems to be one of zem is leaving... I may go look az'it now." Marina noted that the guard had observable discomfort. He might have expected something very different after asking a visitor about something as easy as a coat, but she, rather insensitively, threw him in the midst of a cliché. He sure would have a ticklish memory to take home, but, much to Marina's impression, the man wanted to close this conversation as soon as possible and move on to the next chapter of his routine.


Note to self: I'll get some turtlenecks.


"Zank you verry much, sir. I appreciate iiur attentiveness" She smiled and waited in turn, for the guard to respond in order to make her way to her phone; it was pointless to hold it away now that those two were done talking. However, Marina did offer him a brief, honest cursty as a signal of gratitude. Alibis aside, she did appreciate the politeness of strangers.

 

[_Line 213]

"You have a good day as well, sir," Monty said after the tophat-clad figure as he took his leave. Though the ending in conversation was abrupt, the man did not seem to care at all; in fact, by the time Marina made her way towards the staff, Monty himself had already disappeared. Perhaps he had slipped away while she was distracted.


The guard nodded happily to the Frenchwoman as she stepped away, giving her a slight wave as he moved to continue his rounds. "You have a pleasant evening at the museum, ma'am," he called after her, before moving to respond to a mostly unintelligible voice on his intercom as he strode off down the hall. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least to him.


@zCrookedz @Rhakun

 

[avira]

Ashana, The Smoke of God's Anger

Ashana did not look forward to the hour-long car ride. At least she wasn't the one driving. She was content to sit in almost silence, the crackle of the radio barely coming through the speakers. The soft lull of vocal jazz permeated the car. This gave her a chance to review her notes from Bradshaw's interview. From all accounts, Crane was something of a character. Interviewing him might not be as easy as it was with Bradshaw.


Speaking of Bradshaw, Ashana noticed him fidgeting in the back of the car. It was as if he expected her to burst into flames, or Mal to suddenly grow horns. She could almost taste his  anxiety lingering in the air. For his comfort (and perhaps her boredom), she decided to break the silence.


"I did have one more question, Mister Bradshaw." She turned in her seat to an angle that seemed almost impossible for the human spine. "How would you say Mister Crane's... mental state has been?"


@_Line 213

 

[_Line 213]

"Oh, more or less the same as it usually is, really," the man responded, frowning at the question, "he's...Rather devoted to his work, constantly strives to make improvements to the museum, his choice of inclusions are a little...Odd, depending on who you ask, yet for the most part, he's still a distinguished academic all the same. I wouldn't worry all that much about what the news reports have to say about him. Between you and me, they're mostly just...Nonsense."


Even such a simple set of statements seem to set the fellow even further on edge. Perhaps he merely saw Mister Crane a little differently from everyone else. Not a particularly surprising possibility, considering that the two were probably closer than most, if Brandshaw's accounts were to be believed.


@avira

 

[zCrookedz]

Lucas smiled to Monty as he too made his leave, and soon was gone. Lucas eyed the woman with the guard, who was now making her way to the anubis statue as the guard sonderend off. Lucas stopped just before turning the corner, as he felt a slight shiver in his pocket again. He backed himself up against a wall taking a quick glance around before pulling at the pocket of his coat. The shrunken head within the pocket gave Lucas an empty glare.


"We gots som'ting hangin round us boyo. Som'ting dahk been in dat room wit us. I can feels it in my skull."


Lucas sighed at the skull.


"Merde, Jimbo. I 'ave zhe staff, we need to leave before someone finds out."


Jimbo moved his jaw so he was starring straight up at Lucas, fixing him with a cross look. 


"If da Guédé got som'ting watchin us, we needs ta know wat dat ting is boyo."


Lucas sighed and looked back into the room with the anubis statue. If he got close enough to it again, he could maintain the spell of the shadow clone and still have his time. But he would need to find the person, or thing, and still be close enough. As he glanced back at the statue, he noticed the "french" woman once again. Her accent had set him off the first moment he heard it, and she was standing right next to the statue. Lucas relaxed himself for a moment, and closed his eyes. When his eyelids reopened, they were completely black. His vision now penetrating the veil of life and death, he would be able to tell if a Guédé was close by the aura of death that surrounded them. As he glanced around the room, making sure there wasn't anything else, his eyes fixed on the woman by the statue and he smiled. A pitch black aura surrounded this woman, obviously she had a very close relationship with death. 


Lucas blinked and his eyes returned to normal. He gave Jimbo a pat from within his pocket as Lucas began to head back towards the statue. He reached out with his shadow, thin as a piece of hair once again, and made contact with the staffs shadow. He felt the familiarity of his spell as he came up behind the woman and placed both hands on his staff. 


"Votre accent est terrible. Papa Ghede t'a envoyé?"


@_Line 213  @Rhakun

 

[Rhakun]

Marina, having recovered her phone, had been inspecting the statue of Anubis. Much to her disappointment, it didn't look the part of something extraordinary. Historical value aside, it was a regular shrine; unworthy of any more attention than the rest of the items on show. A standing man, with the head of a jackal and a staff simple looking enough to pass as an Elderluxe walking cane, had it had an ergonomic handle. She then sensed the essence of death from a farther distance than before, but with significant agitation. Eugene Morellus was approaching.



"Votre accent est terrible."


She turned to him, displaying a look that strongly suggested a same-goes-to-you expression. Rude.



 "Papa Ghede t'a envoyé?"


Marina had a very partial knowledge of him; she understood the name as a sort of major spirit (the term Loa, as creole speech in general, was pretty unknown to her) of Haitian mythology that people prayed to so children wouldn't die of disease through early age. As far as she was aware, however, he could be referring to a gang leader or even his own father, trying to bring him back from his pompous life in the Americas (all that voodoo decor oughtn't be cheap, after all). However, it wouldn't hurt to see if he meant the literal.

"I can't understand you very well, sir. However, I'd tell you" she said sarcastically, pressing her thumb, making an effort to imply compliance with this Ghédé person he mentioned "a decent envoy wouldn't spit you their interests so directly." Truthfully, she had very poor knowledge of voodoo, but she decided to see how far another act would go.


Trying to test this supposition, she raised her hands to pull her coat's neck up. She looked around to see if there were a lot of people around, but much to her relief, the crowds had thinned a lot. She pulled the fabric tighter, one hand, however, plucked one of her smaller feathers in a manner that would seem to an observer as a brief scratch of the middle and ring finger.


"Brr... I'd also tell you that I feel sort of cold today" she sighed, letting her arms down and releasing the quill mid-air. The feather, carrying Morrígan's essence, floated towards his leg and landed in the fabric of his pants. It was clear to her that this man had something either dying, deadlike or deadly on him. Surely, he thought, Eugene had noticed it and whatever half-living thing he held would sense it, too.


@zCrookedz @_Line 213