Realistic or Modern The Mummy: The Secrets of Thoth

[StormWolf]

The Mummy
The Secrets of Thoth
__________________________________________________________

March 18, 1933 — New York, New York



The Empire State. Of all the cities that sparkle like a mantle of gems beneath the stars, it is New York that stands chief among them as “the city that never sleeps”. In the last ten years, the skyline of the city has changed. The country, the world, had changed. Scars from the Great War festered, tensions growing abroad in Europe as world governments still teetered on just how they feel about Germany’s new government.

Among the ever-growing spires of metal, glass, and stone, lies a building that outwardly might not garner a second glance, especially when it has the imposing facade of the American Museum of Natural History as its neighbor. The plain brownstone manor, with its faded green roof fixtures and smattering of bird droppings, was the face of the Carlyle Foundation. Equal parts home, study, and private museum, the aged head of the Ward-Jones family had all but vanished from public life after his son’s death. The papers and tabloids passed it off as a heart-broken old man, ailing at the loss of his sole male heir, devolving from an eccentric philanthropist to a depressed recluse, kept company only by his earthy treasures like the Pharaohs of old.

A man possessed by a singular obsession with the ancient and the occult, with the immortality of the ages. In the near-solitude of his bereft home, tended by a meager staff and small army of attaches, Alexander Ward-Jones toiled solitarily in his office. Silent but for the scrabbling of his pen and the leafing of papers. Food was made per Mr. Ward-Jones’ particular punctuality, but was left uneaten. The only indication that he still lived was the coming and going of his closest consultants, and the calls to the pantry every day to have a decanter refilled.

The maids and staff were certain that Mr. Ward-Jones was going to meet his end in such a delirious state, but like an old oak, he endured. At last, the doors to the office opened, peeling away to the stink of dust, vellum, sweat, and scotch. A series of messages — invitations, summons, and otherwise offers for a job — to be sent out as soon as possible.

* * *​

Wherever in the world the recipients of these missives found themselves, they would receive a letter, a call, or a telegram. An invitation, as well as a paid means of transportation, for whomever it may concern to join an expedition; the adventure of a lifetime. A promise of steady and generous pay and compensation would stand out sharply in the current climate of economic turmoil.

So long as they arrive at the Carlyle Foundation by the 15th of the May, no sooner, no later.

One among them was the son of the Miskatonic University's own antiquarian. Matthew Harris Carter, like many in the United States, had felt the brunt of the depression. In Atlantic City, where the veteral was reduced to little more than a valet for those too far up in the pecking order. He was surprised, even taken aback, at receiving the telegram when he returned home in the dismal, dark hours of the early morning.

Surely, the message had been intended for his father, but not not even the man’s own family knew the comings and goings of the obsessive and flighty fellow. There was no return address to the sender, only the address of the Foundation on Central Park West. In the dark room, lit only by the dwindling nub of a candle, Matthew pondered the enigmatic message over a cigarette.

With the time available, whether or not his father was the intended recipient, Matthew resolved to at least hear the job offer out. Money was getting tighter, and they were barely holding on to their tenement. Drifting his eyes down the shadowed corridor, Matthew’s mother and siblings slept in their respective rooms. It was a gamble.

Keep a steady job with steady pay that chipped away at Matthew’s spirit every day, or go out on a limb for some mysterious stranger on the promise of fortune and adventure?

Matthew notified his work and made preparations. Come the 15th of May, he would be outside the Carlyle Foundation in his sunday best, bright and early.

* * *​

May 15, 1933


True to his plan and true to his word, Matthew Carter stood before the 1800s brownstone feeling... immensely underwhelmed. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but it had certainly been far more grandiose in his mind's eye. At the very least, less caked with pigeon shit. Beneath the brim of his fedora, Matthew's sullen brows stitched in the long shadows of the morning. He was still stiff from the Greyhound from Atlantic City to New York, but had at least had the time and sense to change into a nicer — if not terribly modest — tweed suit and overcoat. The late-spring of New York would get hot and muggy by the afternoon, but the mornings still had enough of a bite. With his suitcase in hand, Matthew realized just how idiotic he must look amid the morning bustle.

Certainly he wasn't the only one? He hoped not, as he felt the eyes of unseen staff within the tinted windows peering at him. Clearing his throat, Matthew approached to knock, only to have the sturdy oak door groan open to a woman with wispy platinum blond hair and a stern, but youthful face. Dark eyes gave Matthew a once-over that made him feel more like a horse at auction that a potential hire. A pale eyebrow arched with a barely-audible tut,

"You are expected. Please, make yourself comfortable in the lobby until the others arrive." She said with the crisp consciences of shrewd, no-nonsense business, and stepped back from the door. Clearing his throat, Matthew wiped his feet on the mat and followed the stern hostess inside. The foyer and lobby of the Foundation was a world apart from the exterior, looking every part the Rockefeller with stone columns and arches, accents of oak and brass, and light fixtures that shone like stars. Against the walls and in free-standing cases were artifacts from every corner of the world; ranging from recent history to truly ancient history.

Matthew didn't realize that he was clutching his suitcase to his chest, as he drank it all in.

All that was left to do was wait for the others, unless they were already present...

BELIAL. , Jannah , Togy , Kabobtoss , sprouhtt , darth , ACasualBrit

 

[Jannah]

So this was America.

Nader had heard much about the place, but had yet to actually set foot there. Rumours had always painted it as a prosperous place, a jewel in the rough, yet the reality appeared significantly different.

Upon setting foot on American soil Nader had immediately been taken aback by the atmosphere, one of poverty and hardship not unlike that being experienced elsewhere. The entire world was mourning. No, it was far beyond mourning. It was crying out for mercy. Those cries, the Egyptian felt echoing through his own head. Everything was different, yet familiar. It was his own unusual features that stood out in the country more than anything else.

Blending in, of course, was far from the man's intent.

Having little time to enjoy the city life of New York at all Nader focused on arriving at his destination. Seemingly he was being transferred from one master to another, but only this time he knew little about his master at all except that he was the adventurous sort. It was a contrast to everything the Egyptian had ever known, but refusal had simply not been possible. His expertise was needed and he was willing to provide it...for a fee. Now would it be worth it? There was only one way to find out, and remaining fully visible, he intended to present himself as is to the man behind the walled estate. Sincerity had always been one of his stronger traits.

Nader still vividly remembered the letter that had arrived at his doorstep just about a week earlier. You've been selected... He relayed the words through his head, still bearing a degree of skepticism about the whole thing. "Oh really?" He had responded before deciding to delve more deeply. It turned out that everything his former employer had stated, right down to the expedition itself, was based in fact. It was then the man had had no choice but to accept the proposal. He was a native and had knowledge of the local languages and customs while also carrying a rare medical expertise. What could have possibly gone wrong?

What could possibly go wrong?

A mantra, albeit a simple one, relayed through Nader's head as he made the journey through the city and towards his destination. It soon came into view and he had to admit that it was rather impressive. Whoever owned it, and was funding this expedition, was clearly loaded despite the hardships of so many others. It was difficult to imagine, even more so as he attempted to clear his head of the fatigue that had quickly taken over upon landing in America. He was far from home and that final touchdown had been the last confirmation the Egyptian needed. In fact, it was the furthest he had ever been away from home at all and even now he was uncertain of what exactly to expect. The past several hours had been little more than a blur. It was only with some luck that he would be permitted to sleep before being thrust into the job he had been assigned for.

Clutching his suitcase and approaching the sturdy oak door, Nader felt his heart skip a beat. He stood, nervously, and waited for the moment of reckoning. Either he would be accepted in all his unkempt and travel weary self - or he would be sent home, forever shamed as a reject.

Only to Nader's slight surprise was he greeted by a woman, presuming household staff of some sort. Once his identity was confirmed, he smiled and nodded as the woman escorted him inside. What he found left him entirely in awe. Lining the walls and corridors of the estate were vast collections of rare and valuable artifacts, some undeniably much older than America itself. "Well, this man does get around." He uttered to himself, in Arabic, under his breath just as the woman halted rather abruptly. They were now inside a lobby of some kind and they were not alone. There were others present, others that he had no doubt he would come to know rather well over the next weeks.

 

[BELIAL.]

Location: The Foundation
Interactions: Matt and Nader
Mentions: StormWolf Jannah

Evelyn Evans​

"It's about time you two got here," the brunette said from the top of the stairs. Lips dressed red, still slick from a fresh re-application, pressed into a small frown. Her hazelnut brown eyes glittered with a hidden tone of mischief, although her manicured brows were drawn in the middle. "In fact, we were wondering if you two fellas were even going to show up." Confidence spilled from the woman as she descended, one leg in front of the other. She wore a creme-coloured, tailored, calf-height gown with pleated sleeves. A coffee brown belt drew her waist in, revealing a svelte figure beneath the modest fabric. On her head sat, tilted impeccably, a matching cotton hat.

Arriving in front of the men, leaning against the railing of the stairs, she clicked her tongue and sized the first one up, eyes then quickly gleaming in the other. Lingering at the eyes, the jaw, and the clothing of the men, the woman waved a limp wrist. She pursed her lips, tapping a ruby red nail against her chin.

"But I suppose you'll do. As long as you know how to hop on one foot, pat your stomach and rub your head, and do fifty push-ups, of course." Hands on her hips, she tapped one toe against the wooden floors. Utterly serious, of course.

After a moment, a wide smile then broke from her face.

"Oh, I'm just bumping gums with you fellas," she said with a laugh. "Everyone's so tense, worried about nothing-- or that's what I say at least. Excitement is good and natural. I hope you can take a good joke or two. Tension isn't my specialty," and with a push forward, she held out a hand to the men (in turn). "Miss Evelyn Evans, by the by. Miss Evans is dandy but it reminds me of my mother. Call me Evy."

Evelyn had arrived just long enough before any of the first of the adventurers, benefited by her being already in New York at the time. She'd been bouncing back and forth from her father's home in Buffalo to the Museum, sorting out work related alibis and documentation. Although Harrison was less than pleased to have her around, she didn't pretend she lived there. He'd made it quite clear that she wasn't welcome-- but like a bad rash, she always came back.

It wasn't like he paid attention to what she was doing, anyway. Bogged down by his own melancholia, drugged up by a number of opiates, he mostly kept to his room. Evelyn made quick of her father's many papers, essays, certificates and ledgers. Copying down what was needed, forging her own name in, and even hiring a guy she knew in Jersey to get her a mock certificate of employment. A few meetings here and there, establishing her place within the community. It had taken a while, with Evelyn on the down-low since the incarceration of her ex-husband. She had a pretty apartment, with a great view of the fire escape, that she shared with a gaggle of ladies. Struggling to make ends meet, it took all of Evelyn to not brandish the dragon's hoard of dollars she'd kept in her hatboxes. It was one of many guises she maintained. For the gentlemen of the Foundation, she'd be the bubbly anthropologist.

With the way that America was turning, bending beneath the pressure of Hoover's doing, Evelyn was delighted at the prospect of leaving. It couldn't come sooner.

She kept her smile, gaze flickering between the two, crossing her arms over her chest with delicate fingers.

 

[Togy]

Laffayette Le'fonte​

Lafayette was having an exceptionally good day.

Disregarding the fact that he'd been robbed twice in as many days, lost his cat over a dozen times, was forced to live in a miniature shantytown with ten other people in ONE room for three days, was kicked out of numerous establishments because nobody seemed to appreciate his accent, and he'd been sitting in the Carlyle Foundation building's waiting room for the past 4 hours.

Part of him and been such an early riser due to unbridled anticipation while the other part had wanted to try making some sort of impression to his employer by showing how dedicated he was to the position handed to him. Unfortunately, no one had particularly noticed, or cared. One after the other they simply walked in, gave him a glance, and sat down. Oh well.

Back on topic. The reason Lafayette was having such a tremendously good day was because he had finally found a job that fit him and his talents. No matter what went wrong, no matter how rotten his luck was, he'd keep his smile up so long as everyone thought well of his....specific field of study. Finally, he was free of the off looks he received from his colleagues back in France. No longer did he have to deal with threats of being stuck into the looney bin! No longer!

With his beret covering his frazzled hair and casting a slight shadow over his eyes to make the bags under them unnoticeable, Laff sat up from his seat. His employer had been a no show so far. He'd been sitting in that same room, admiring the same, frankly beautiful, portrait for four hours, and he hadn't seen a trace of the man. He'd successfully (at least, he think he had) translated every hieroglyph in the museum in that time.

His cat, miraculously appeared in the room a few minutes ago. He had to stop it from knocking over a display because the young black cat really was just a menace to society. Now the cat was perched next to him on the bench he was sat on, grooming itself and refusing to come near him like the veritable, pardon his french, Connasse it was.

Upon seeing two men enter, one looking rather burly and the other seeming quite African, Lafayette felt obligated to wave towards them. "Bonsoir messieurs!" Lafayette said, giving the men a welcoming smile has he tore his cat away from digging it's claws into the fabric of the bench.

Oh and there was Evelyn there too.

Interactions: Very, very slight interaction with Matthew ( StormWolf ) and Nader ( Jannah )

 

[darth]

May 15, 1933
Levon Sarkissian
New York City, United States

Mr. Sarkissian. The name written eloquently on the back of his invitation.

Levon chuckled to himself. The thought of someone saying it aloud seemed simply ridiculous. It would take some time to get used being referred to in such a manner. Most of his life he’d been known to any and all as “Levon,” or “Lev.” Simple and straightforward. Levon liked it that way, better to do away with complication. He never had any reason to be so formal. On rare occasions, his close friends would sometimes call him “Levi.” Levon hated the nickname though. He felt it demeaned him, made it sound like he was someone’s younger brother. His friends knew how much it bothered him, so they would often say it just to raise his ire.

Mr. Sarkissian. Sar-KIS-ian. SAR-kis-IAN.

He kept repeating aloud to himself, sounding the syllables out slowly before quickly spitting them out again. No matter how he put it, Levon couldn’t get comfortable with the words. Perhaps only time will tell. He places a hand on his wrinkled forehead and gently rubs the space between his eyes.

“You alright back there pal?” the cab driver said, his thick New Yorker accent spilling out of the vowels. Levon looked up to meet the eyes of the older man in the rear-view mirror. His eyes were a deep brown, one brow cocked upward. “Oh,” Levon pauses for a moment, “I’m fine, just a little nervous.” The cab driver chuckles to himself. “What, you got a lady waiting at home or something?” He turns the wheel, pulling down a busy street. “I know the feeling,” he says, “You bust your ass everyday, only to come home to a dame who seems hellbent on driving you nuts.” The cab driver lets out a hearty laugh. “Some cruel twist of fate that is.” The car suddenly lurches forward, and Levon is thrown into the driver’s seat. It seems traffic has come to a complete stop. Levon looked ahead to find the car in front had rear-ended another car.

The cab driver honks his horn. “Ey! What’s the hold up?” he throws his hands up and raises his voice. “I got places to be, why don’t we get a move on eh?” The driver in front of the cab rolls his window down and leans his head out. “Why don’t you shove it up your ass ya friggin’ dago!” the driver shouts. The cab driver rolls his own window down and replies. “Why don’t you sit your pansy-ass back in the car before I show you what for!” The driver simply waves away the cab driver and flips the bird in their general direction. Levon simply shakes his head and chuckles to himself. He glances out the passenger window to see what seems little more than a run-down building. The plain brownstone walls offered little for vibrant decorum. His eyes drifted down to the address. For a moment he felt the numbers were familiar, then quickly found realization. He looked back to his invitation, Levon’s eyes widened as the numbers matched up. “This is it!” Levon says as he bolts out of the cab. The cab driver shouts at him, “Hey buddy, you gonna pay up or what?” Levon whirls back, walking up to the cab window. “Oh, yes,” he says as he hands the man five dollars. Levon quickly gathers his belongings, his khaki wool over coat and suitcase, and rushes to the front door. “Hey buddy!” the cab driver shouts, “You know you gave me too much right?” Levon doesn’t seem to notice as he disappears through the large oaken doors.

Levon is dumbfounded as the room opens up into an extravagant atrium. The exterior of the building offered a clever deception for what was hidden within. Akin to Greek temples Levon had seen before. The lobby was lined with thick stone columns and arches. Against the walls, glass displays held, what Levon could only assume, were artifacts from bygone ages. He can’t help but let his mouth hang agape at the interior’s marvelous decor.

Ahem.

Levon quickly snaps his jaw shut, and turns to meet the eyes of a shorter, thinner woman. “It is customary to knock on such occasions.” she says. The woman was obviously annoyed with Levon, and he quickly realized he’d been rather impolite. “Forgive me,” Levon says, “I seem to be taken with excitement.” The woman, who Levon now identified as the host, scowls at him before heading off in another direction without a word. As the woman exits the atrium, Levon finds he’s not alone. Arrayed in front of him, a cast of peculiar characters. Leaning comfortably on the stair railing, a rather curvy brunette confidently stares down the two men in front of her. One appeared to be another American, his steely eyes hinting at experience. The other was a darker toned man, closer to the hue of Levon’s skin. He seemed just as intrigued as the two met eyes. Levon supposed the man could be from the East, but he certainly hoped he hadn’t just run into a Turk. Levon noticed a third man, this one sitting on one of the lobby sofas. However, he wasn’t sure what to make of him. His messy hair half hidden under a beret, his body clad in wrinkled clothes, and his eyes giving off a wild tone. Levon couldn’t entirely be sure this wasn’t a homeless man who’d somehow wandered into the building. There was a brief moment of silence before Levon introduced himself.

“Good day to you friends,” he said, “I do hope that I’m not terribly late...”

StormWolf , BELIAL. , Togy , Jannah

 

[Kabobtoss]

Location: The Foundation
Interactions: Matt, Nader, Evy, Lafayette, and Levon
Mentions: StormWolf Jannah BELIAL. Togy darth

Russell Callahan​

What a crew...

Russ couldn't help shaking his head as he watched the fifth visitor enter the shit-stain of a mansion. An absolute dish, three foreigners (one of which was a face, another who looked like a scrub), and a fellow American who seemed hard-boiled but was trying to look smooth. What the hell are you about to get yourself into, Russ? He knew he was a wheat himself, and thus not used to life in the Big Apple, but he figured this squad would make quite the cocktail for an adventure.

Besides, his Pa convinced him to give this a shot. Go out and see the world again - it couldn't be any worse than the Great War.

Could it?

He showed up a day earlier in his tin can - an old Model T he inherited from his Pa - and parked it across the street from the so-called "Carlyle Foundation". Never too early to scout an unknown place. Once he woke up on the morning of the 15th, he just sat and observed until people started coming out of the woodwork. Well, he chuckled to himself, 'bout time I made myself known. So, he took a quick swig of home-brewed liquid courage from his flask, lit up his next cigar, and moseyed on over to the Foundation's front doors.

He wanted to make a decent first impression, so he made sure to cap himself with a faded tan walker and slip into a dark brown blazer overtop his white dress shirt and denim jeans. Besides, the blazer did a fine job making his armaments less obvious - ain't no situation he'd ever willingly walk into without his "dames". He kept his steel-toed boots on this occasion - didn't want anyone thinking he was too fancy.

He was ushered into the main lobby where he would finally have the chance to interact with this hodge-podge. His eyes were immediately drawn to the looker, sure that such was her intent - she seemed to be the kind who liked having all eyes on her. He surveyed the rest of the room with feigned disinterest.

"Well well well, this place is less of a gaum than I figured..." his Appalachian heritage became very clear as he drawled out his words. His eyes were again drawn to the looker. "Ma'am," he greeted with a tip his hat, although it sounded more like "Mayum". His eyes scanned the lobby again, his left hand resting naturally on his hunting knife as he questioned, "Now where's the Butter-and-Egg Man himself? He should already be tellin' us what the hell we're about to jump into..."

 

[ACasualBrit]

playing: Collar Full by Panic! At The Disco

Location: New York
Mentions: StormWolf BELIAL. Togy darth Kabobtoss Jannah ​

14th May 1933

The bitter chill of a lonely night brushed the hairs on the back of Rosa's neck, causing them to stand to attention like rows of soldiers on the front lines. It was a strange feeling being without the excitable company of the bounding bundle of fur that was Raptor. The family German Shepherd had been dropped off at a nanny service, one of the most exclusive institutes in New York. The sheer confusion on the elderly woman's face as the heiress dropped off the overly furry child at her doorstep was enough to paint a hundred pretty pictures.

"Excuse me, Sir- Ma'am, this is a service for childr-" The confused career was swiftly cut off by a soft hand, waved dismissively in the air around Rosalyn's head.

"I read that you charged an extortionate price for your services. I'm paying double that to ensure that he gets your undivided attention and care." Lighting a cigarette as she handed over the thick leather leash, Rosa inhaled deeply. "I'll be back for him in the morning. He likes liver jerky and a bowl of warm milk before bed, which is at nine o'clock sharp. Any later and you'll have a grumpy, ninety pound menace tearing up your furniture."

Rosa chuckled to herself as she lit another stick of tobacco in the back of her cab. The smoke poured out of her lips like thick fog on a winter dawn over the moors back home. She could almost feel the heather between her toes and the damp smell of fresh dew that brushed against her skin. The calming notion of nostalgia was suddenly shattered as the cab rolled over yet another bump in the road. Harsh rain battered the side of the carriage while the deafening rattle of wheels on cobbled streets throbbed through the seat in a cruel attempt to dislodge her spine.

The driver of the cab was as common as mud and it appeared that he had little interest in making her ride pleasant. This time the heiress had kept her purse strings tight and withheld payment till she arrived at her destination. She wasn't about to put her trust in a regular down and out who couldn't be bothered to at least repaint the fare on the carriage. Even with the introduction of cars in the big city, the young radical preferred the familiarity of a horse drawn cab, the beating of hooves on the road more like a drum that set the tempo for the night.

This evening was supposed to be the final night before a great expedition. One that would take the British aristocrat far beyond the borders of her homeland, even further than her beloved Berlin. The daunting prospect of an unknown land had kept her awake countless nights and yet she still desired to go. Perhaps it was the adrenalin or the honour of continuing her grandfather's work that motivated her, but deep down, she knew it was the big 'fuck you' to her mother that drove her ambition.

"I haven't seen you in years and you're still fucking with my head..." Rosa spat, gritting her teeth as she flicked the ash from her cigarette out of the window. Her eyes drifted over the bright street lights that lined the more commonly travelled roads. Where she was going wouldn't be so well lit, she thought. Not tonight.

A short time later and the cab turned down a dark street, slowly rolling past boarded up town houses until a faint light appeared. Since her time in America, Rosa had become very familiar with a certain speakeasy that lurked beneath the city streets. It was far from the extravagant halls that she had been brought up in but this wasn't the place for finery and tea with crumpets. No. This was where she could forget about her pig-shit of a family and bury herself in the bosom of her own kind.

Rosa smoothed out the creases of her jacket as she climbed out from the back of the carriage. Holding onto her cigarette, which was perched precariously in the crevice of her chapped lips, the heiress checked up and down the street. The light of the driver's lantern was caught in the reflection of her once bright eyes as the coast was finally believed to be clear. She strolled round to the front and glanced up at the native New Yorker slumped over in the driver's seat. He snorted and spat on the ground by her feet.

"I'm gonna have to deep clean this damn thing after having one of you lot in it..." He held out his calloused hand and wiggled his thick, crooked fingers. Rosa stared at his hand like it was a piece of shit someone had dumped on her door step. Clearing her throat and checking up and down the street one more time, Rosa swiftly removed the cigarette from her mouth and firmly pressed the blistering tip into the out stretched palm of the driver. His cries echoed through the empty thoroughfare as he recoiled instinctively. Rosa's eyes glared at him sternly, a warning that had come moments too late. It seemed that nothing more was to come of the situation but as she reached into her blazer pocket, the sound of safety being disabled on a fire arm caught her immediate attention.

"You think I'm gonna take that? You little-" The driver climbed down from his seat and stood well over six foot. His body was broad and compact, like a gourde that had weathered too long in the sun. Now that he was close, Rosa could see the wiry bristles of his upper lip, the grit and sweat from a day's work glistening in the yellow lights around them. He stepped closer and pressed the barrel of the gun to Rosa's chest, pushing her back till the heel of her brogues grated against the rough surface of the curb. Her heart was lodged in her throat and she could have sworn she could see her chest push the gun back and forth with each beat. Not again. Not like this.

Whether it was the desperate fear in her eyes or the sound of people coming out from the speakeasy, the driver quickly shoved the gun into his trousers and grabbed the side of the cab. He threw the heiress a filthy look before spitting once more and clambering back into his cab. With a creak and a whine, the carriage lurched forward and disappeared down the street. And as it faded into the darkness, Rosa felt her lungs suddenly fill with air and she collapsed onto the pavement. The wet concrete bled through her clothes and froze the skin beneath but she didn't care. It was a welcome sign that she was alive.

The voices that had driven the cabby away grew louder as she lay there, before finally appearing over her with concerned smiles. The two gentlemen lifted her to her feet and took her inside. She was grateful for their company and compassion. It seemed that she hadn't been the only one to come nose to nose with the tip of a gun. The group laughed and drank until the room span and the music merged with the loud chatter from patrons at the bar. This is what she loved. The world falling away, leaving nothing but the music and people. People like her.

* * *
​

15 May 1933

The unwelcome rays of sunlight that poured through unfamiliar curtains persuaded Rosalyn's eyes to peel open. Her mind couldn't seem to focus on any one thought and when she tried to sit up, an overwhelming dizziness brought her back down to the strange pillows that cushioned her head. Everything seemed foreign and even when she was able to climb out of bed, Rosa had no recollection of where she was. While gathering up the rest of her clothes and buttoning up her shirt, she noticed a floral fragrance that wafted from a mound in the bedding. Wisps of fiery red hair lay delicately against the white cotton and the gentle sound of soft breathing finally made it clear that Rosa was not alone. Well, it wouldn't be the first time, she thought to herself.

Grabbing a cup off coffee from the kitchen on her way out, Rosa noticed the clock on the wall. She was late. Late to collect Raptor. Late to get to the meeting. Late. "Fuck." It didn't take her long to realise where she was once she left the apartment building. The heiress counted her lucky stars that somehow the one girl she had picked out from the crowd had lived close to the main hustle of the city. There was still time to make the initiation... Her feet met the concrete floor in quick succession as she ran the last few blocks to the nursery, her jacket billowing out behind her and the soles of her shoes tapping in time with her steps.

When the nanny answered the door, she was far from impressed by the state of her client. It may have been the lipstick smears on the collar of her shirt or the misaligned buttons but Rosa was grateful that the elderly woman didn't say anything. The worry and stress melted away instantly as the familiar sound of a bounding Raptor graced her ears. He was only a few years old but had the spirit of an old friend who saw nothing but good, even when there wasn't much to be seen. His tail wagged vigorously, nearly knocking over a vase on the foyer table. Kneeling down to greet him, the still fairly intoxicated woman buried her fingers into his fur and smiled as he leaned into her.

A stern, yet tentative cough broke the blissful moment. "For a rather boisterous breed... He was a charming visitor." The lady pushed forward a smile, reattaching the leash to Raptor's collar. "I wasn't sure if you would mind but I put a stick of cinnamon in his milk, sent him right off to sleep."

Rosa felt something in her chest that she hadn't felt in a long time. Whether she was still vulnerable from the drink or the night's events had left her longing for kindness, the sapphire felt tears pool in the corner of her eye. "I- Yes, that sounds wonderful. I'm sure he loved staying with you." With a nod, Rivers rose to her feet and accepted the leash. The fee was fairly substantial but the interaction of this morning had been worth every cent.

With the sun climbing in the sky, the duo made their way through the busy streets towards the Carlyle Foundation. Rosa had checked out the place before, a couple times when she first arrived in New York about a week ago. She hadn't wanted to go in too soon, especially since she had had experience with cranky, old, academic men, She'd seen enough of them delve too far into the rabbit hole of their research to know that interrupting him when he wasn't expecting her could jeopardise her spot of the trip. She was spoilt, not stupid.

However, the time had come to knock on the large oak doors and see what other lost souls had wondered into the brownstone building. For some reason, Rosa expected more of her sort, aristocrats who had nothing better to do with their time or money. Although she had noticed the topic of payment that had come with the invitation, not that it had had anything to do with her joining. It just meant that perhaps there were people here that were in it for the pay cheque.

"You ready, Rap?" Rosa glanced down at her four legged friend, who as usual was wagging his tail frantically. He could smell the people inside, more friends to make and smells to sniff. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

It didn't take long for the architectural wooden doors to haul open, a feminine hostess standing expectantly in the entry way. She was attractive in a housemaid type of way. And something about the harsh glare she gave made Rosa think twice about saying something stupid. Instead, she gave a nod and followed the lady through to the lobby. There were numerous voices chatting amongst themselves, mostly male voices but each one stood out for different reasons.

The most noticeable were the ones with strong accents. One French, one that was very unfamiliar and another that was horrifically southern. The rest were American it seemed, and yet they all stood out.

Of course, Rosa had noticed the only other female in attendance the instant she had walked in the door, but this one stood out for a whole load of reasons. She was loud. Visually as well as vocally. Her very existence screamed: "Look at me." Not that it was a bad thing. Rosa had known lots of women who were the exact same. Although, it was those women who were usually hiding something, despite their seemingly open-book exterior.

The French gentleman had a cat, something that was evident in the way the feline ventured near anyone but him. Typical felines... Rosa thought to herself. Some might have been concerned about a dog and a cat being in the same room together, however Rosa had seen Raptor attempt to engage with them before. It had gone as well as you would expect. He had tried his usual canine greeting and much to the cat's shock, ended up with scratches across his nose. Thankfully he had since learnt his lesson.

The other American man seemed much younger than the one with the southern drawl. He was handsome, by Rosa's standards, with an air of immaturity about him. Not in a degrading way. More so that he seemed out of place, like a child at the table while the adults talked business. Perhaps it was the way he clung to his suitcase like a safety blanket.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who was nervous about the big meet up. Standing not too far away was fairly young man who, what he lacked in height, made up with exotic features. He too was gripping his suitcase tightly, the whites of his knuckles standing out against his bronzed complexion. The label was difficult to read but as she walked deeper into the foyer, Rosa could just make out the name: Basara. From the wear and tear of his luggage, Rosa suspected he was one of those here for the money. Although, she wondered why someone from the Middle Eastern regions would bother travelling all the way to New York only to venture back again. That said, she wasn't one to judge. Her journey to New York had been as unnecessary as his.

Turning her head slightly to glance over the man with the unfamiliar accent, Rosa studied him carefully. His mess of dark hair atop his head was like coal beneath a fire, and the faint wisps of grey the ash that nestled on top. His voice carried well and the British aristocrat found herself enjoying the strange yet melodic tone of his words. She had caught the end of the conversation but had not really paid much attention to it, for when his face was fully displayed, she was caught up in the familiarity of it. Of course, she had never seen him before, but he felt familiar. Perhaps he was just one of those people that felt like home, even when they couldn't be further from it.

Before Rosa could even begin to introduce herself, Raptor trotted into the ring of people and sat at the feet of the southern man. It was a trait of his, to intrude on people so that Rosa had no choice but to interact. Raking a hand through her damp hair, the heiress finally made herself part of the circle.

coded by weldherwings.

 

[Togy]

Laffayette Le'fonte
​

Struggling to contain the black cat in his grasp, Laffayette tried to the best of his ability to ignore the squirming feline in his lap and instead smile at the newcomers. Waving gently with one hand and holding the young cat in a death grip with the other as it raked it's claws across his exposed hand, Laff simply wanted to make a decent first impression based on the few glances people sent his way. Sighing, Laffayette let the struggling cat go so as to save his hand from further injury.

Shaking his hand slightly and rubbing the small scratches given to it, Laffayette kept his smile plastered across his face. It wasn't even the slightest bit strained either, he was honestly just happy to be there. No matter how bad of a day he was having, no matter how long he waited in the lobby, it didn't matter in his eyes. So long as he gets the job, his day would be splendid.

Eyes roving the newly arriving applicants, Laffayette gave each of them a "Bonjor!" as they entered. One seemed to be a Southern fellow judging by the accent, seemingly brought up in a more "Rough and tough" fashion than the others in the lobby. The steel toe work boots they wore indicated they were a working man as well, but Laff really couldn't be sure. He'd never been one for trying to figure someone out with just a glance, but he thought it was alright to try and do so as long as he didn't base his interactions with the man on his own preconceptions.

Moving his gaze to the second man, Laffayette gave a small wave as their own gaze traveled towards him. the look he was given was difficult to describe. It wasn't judgemental nor was there the slightest trace of cruelty in it, but Laff could recognize it all the same. He certainly hoped the man wasn't looking at him strangely, because that was the look most people gave him upon introduction. Smile unfaultering, Laff moved onto the third attendee.

He couldn't place the woman, to be perfectly honest. He couldn't spot any telling signs other than the fact that they were observing everyone in the room, much, much closer than he was. He'd have felt slightly unnerved himself if they had begun studying him, but they barely spared him a glance and focused much more attention on his cat.

Figures.

Standing up, Laff figured it was best he introduced himself to one of the gentlemen before him. "Bonsoir miss et brumisateurs! C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer" Laffayette greeted, beaming as he spoke his native language. "Eh, pardon my French messieurs, it is very much a pleasure to meet you all. Oui, it is absolutely splendid!" Laffayette said, approaching the tall bearded man in front of him. The man may have been considered short by most, but to Laffayette, a man standing at 5'7, the man was rather tall compared to him.

"You are none too terribly late, Monsieur" Laffayette said his French accent thick and heavy even ehen he spoke English. Extending his right hand for a handshake, Laff introduced himself. "You may call me Monsieur Laffayette. I am very well read in occult phenomenons and egyptology. Non, you have not heard of me" Laffayette said, pausing for brief moments in his sentences so as to not make a mistake while speaking English. "It is very agréable to meet you Monsieur...?" Laffayette began, pausing to wait for the man's name.

Interactions: Levon ( darth )
Mentions: Rosalyn ( ACasualBrit ) Russel ( Kabobtoss )

 

[darth]

May 15, 1933
Levon Sarkissian
New York City, United States
The Carlyle Foundation

As soon as the words left his mouth, another guest arrived. A lithe woman, dressed pristine in a tailored button up shirt, draped in a dark jacket and tapered trousers. At her hip, a spry German Shepard. The dog, tongue dangling and tail whipping, pranced straight up to one of the more rough-looking gentlemen. He perched himself comfortably and looked up expectantly at the American. At least that’s what Levon had assumed he was. His voice was deep and resonant, however, the twang the man would ensue on his vowels was like nothing Levon had ever heard before. The man was tall and broad, his dark hair lined with silvery grey. Glancing back towards the newcomer, Levon stepped aside slightly to allow her inclusion in their rather awkward gathering of strangers. The silence became deafening as each of the group shot each other quick glances. There was but a brief moment of silence before the wild-eyed man seated on the sofa sprang up suddenly. The man had been trying to contain a rather unruly black cat in his lap. As he stood, the feline did a number on his hand, trying desperately to be free of his grip. He sighed as he let the cat free to roam about the room. Rubbing his hands together, he moved to greet the new arrivals.

There was a broad grin on the man’s face, lifting and curling the beard around his lips. The first words he spoke were French, eloquent and smooth. Of course Levon had not the faintest idea what he was saying but he could tell the man was well-read. The Frenchman quickly realized the confused look on Levon and the others' faces. He paused and recollected himself. "Eh, pardon my French messieurs, it is very much a pleasure to meet you all. Oui, it is absolutely splendid!"

The man spoke English quite well, Levon’s thoughts of the seemingly bedraggled homeless soul were quickly dashed. The Frenchman turned to Levon and approached him, his smile still wide across his face. Levon was slightly put off by the man’s outward manner, however, he didn’t sense any sort of ruse behind his warm personality. It was just the way his eyes wandered about the room. They were wide open, exposing the whites of his eyes. Combined with an ear-to-ear grin, the man simply seemed, for lack of better words, a tad loony. Perhaps it was just the strangeness of it all, Levon thought. An eccentric Frenchman was a surprise among many.

"You are none too terribly late, Monsieur" he said, "You may call me Monsieur Laffayette. I am very well read in occult phenomenons and Egyptology. Non, you have not heard of me." The Frenchman spoke quickly but paused briefly before continuing, as to ensure his English was understood. However, Levon still cocked his head slightly in an attempt to wade through his thick French accent. "It is very agréable to meet you Monsieur...?" he said with his hand outstretched.

“Sar-Sarkissian,” Levon said. The name fell out of his mouth clumsily, unfortunately Levon was still unfamiliar with referring to his surname. He felt a cold cringe seize his body for a moment. Stuttering upon first meeting with these peculiar people was the last thing Levon wanted. “Mr. Sarkissian,” Levon said before taking Laffayette’s hand into his own. “It is very-,” Levon paused a moment before continuing, “agreeable to meet you as well.” The word the Frenchman used to describe their first meeting seemed strange, or at least inappropriate. Levon would have said “pleasurable,” or a simple “good to meet you,” would have sufficed in his opinion. But, today seemed to be the day for strange things.

Interactions: Togy
Mentioned: ACasualBrit , Kabobtoss

 

[Jannah]

The longer Nader waited around the more others began to pour into the lobby. It was safe for him to assume those were the ones he would have to become acquainted with very soon. No expedition was ever done alone. Those wanting to explore the ancient tombs always brought along company, and in the Egyptian's humble opinion it was rather damning. If they were too dangerous to explore alone then surely that was a sign that the dead were best left in peace? Much superstition was still abound back home and his own family was far from immune to it. Their ancestors could feel disturbance and they were never pleased by it.

Or so the tale went.

Whether Nader believed in it all himself remained uncertain, but he erred on the side of caution. Always. He was rarely a risk taker. Why begin now?

Money. Seemingly money had a powerful sway over the most desperate among men.

Nader remembered exactly why he was present at all as the others flocked in. One by one he offered them friendly waves and smiles. Even if they did not become the best of friends these men(and women) were now officially bound to him. Most of all, they were now officially under his direct care if anything were to happen to them. Oh, the burdens of being a physician.

It was a scruffy man, presumed Eastern, that captured Nader's attention first. Turkish? No, definitely Armenian as the name soon revealed. Yet, it was his claimed expertise that was eyebrow raising. "Expertise in the Occult and Egyptology? Perhaps that could be teaching you that the tombs of the dead are best left alone." The Egyptian chimed in, wearing a rather serious expression as he gazed at the older man. He realized then that his accent was heavy and almost certain betrayed his origins as anything but American. He did wonder just how obvious it would be. If his appearance and accent did not give it away then his name almost certainly would.

"I am Nader." He revealed, taking a surprisingly casual approach in direct contrast to some of the others present. Most, he could only assume, had come from high society. It was a pedestal he most certainly did not stand upon.

 

[Kabobtoss]

Location: The Foundation
Interactions: Rosa, Raptor
Mentions: StormWolf Jannah BELIAL. Togy darth ACasualBrit

Russell Callahan​

Russ's gaze settled on the newest arrival, another lady... gent...? Who and what in blazes is that? he thought to himself, but eventually decided they must be a frail - no gent he knew had that kind of svelte figure and swagger, regardless how manly their choice of attire.

Her partner, on the other hand, was a sight for sore eyes. And he trotted right up to ol' Russ and plopped his rump down, waiting for the attention he knew was due. Russ did his civic duty, squattin' down and giving the pup some scritches behind his ears - every dog was a pup in his eyes, unless they were well into their grey years. He rested his forehead on the dog's for a long moment, closing his eyes and happily sighing before letting the big pup slobber up his mug. He realized that his current position was prime for getting a better idea of his soon-to-be compatriots - since he was now out of direct line-of-sight he could take his time surveying each person without concern for staring.

The first to draw his attention was the short foreign scrub as he scrambled up to the group, calling out "Bonjour!" to whoever would look in his direction. Ah, a Frenchie then, Russ considered. The kid looked rather petite and scrawny, but he had a respect for the French since the Great War - they did contribute the greatest number of men to the cause, after all. Perhaps this one would be helpf-

"...I am very well read in occult phenomenons and egyptology..."

Well, there went that hope.

His eyes settled on the target of such a comment, whose name was “Sar-Sarkissian." Strange name, certainly, but the fellow seemed well traveled. “Mr. Sarkissian,” the man corrected himself. Ah, another nervous nelly, thought Russ. He certainly dressed well enough, but the man seemed out of his element in the realm of conversation.

His considerations of ol' Sarky were interrupted by the plain proclamation, "I am Nader." The third foreigner looked like he had tried to settle himself down from his former suitcase-clutching entrance. Russ could place neither Nader nor Sarky's accents, but they were decidedly different. Well, whatever the hell our employer wants us to do must require their particular backgrounds and... hobbies, I suppose...

He peered towards the two other Americans - the dish and the smooth boy. They both seem poised and waiting - best he could tell was that they tried to look good on the outside, but that betrayed somethin' deep in both of 'em. Different reasons, he suspected. Having only just met 'em, he couldn't guess their attitudes, but he could see in their eyes that neither of 'em were truly calm. I just hope neither of 'em are grifters...

He finally settled on the owner of his current companion - the frail. American, or maybe British, but she had yet to open her gums. As his left hand continued the scritchin', he lifted his right hand, tipping his hat in her direction to grab her attention, "Ma'am, much obliged for the entertainment. Name's Russ. I'd love the pleasure of this handsome fella's name, and yours too, if ye'd be so kind."