Abigail would never overtly admit it, but she was shit scared. She’d grown up giving this Celestial hell, throwing everything she can at him, and he was able to brush it off so easy. He ran a daycare of unruly and volatile supernatural children without even breaking a sweat. He has snorted, swallowed and injected more narcotics than Abigail thought was physically possible and always managed to sleep it off. In her mind, Parael was as close to invincible as Abigail was ever going to witness - and for the first time in her life her weird foster uncle was looking frightened. Defeated.
 
Naturally, it didn’t help with that horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Upon Parael’s request, Abigail sat down gingerly on the pile of nappies next to him, nervously cupping her hands together on her lap in such a way that the long, jet-black claws would not stab into her palms. It was quite a jarring sight to see something so unnatural and monstrous seem so worried, but in New Camden it was more common than you’d think. Abigail took a seat and she did what she was known to do, what she had always done and perhaps forever will do - she stared. She kept quiet and observed and listened to every single word.
 
To be perfectly honest, Abigail’s little trip ‘back home’ was a confusing time to remember, because Faerie was a confusing place and there were so many layers of magic in play that it made her head hurt just recalling the memories. But Faerie held a special place in her heart that was an odd mixture of the most magnificent and dangerous thing she had ever accomplished, and she cracked a familiar sharp-toothed grin at Parael’s little anecdote. It had the desired effect. For a brief moment the mummy and the museum lightning storm didn’t exist. She was safe in this basement. And then, slowly, Parael brought her back to the present and made her come to terms with what was really going on.
 
He told her that the safest option would be to submit to this Nemsemet mummy. Abigail stared at him. 

Then Parael asked a much simpler request - one that Abigail could easily answer as her face split into that shit-eating grin again. “You mean arguably THE most valuable item you own, second only to Batman Number One?” asked Abigail and, god, she had that little smug lilt in her voice even through the raspiness of her changeling vocal chords that only Victor and Parael would’ve been able to hear. The smile faultered. “To be honest if it were any other day I’d have you looking for weeks, but uh…” she looked around and sighed. With a spritely hop, Abigail was up on her feet and wandering off to one of the more nondescript corners of Parael’s expansive basement. She went over to a filing cabinet full of old paperwork and grunted as she pushed it aside a little with her shoulder; there was something wedged in between the cabinet and a large metal flat-pack shelf stacked high with questionable magazines displaying scantily clad people on the front covers. Abigail made little grunts of effort as she tried to dislodge this thing, which was well and truly jammed into the gap. There was a soft ‘woosh’ of metal on leather which was promptly followed by a gout of flame and Abigail immediately dropped the Flaming Sword onto the ground and looked up at Parael with the cheeriest, most wholesome look of pride on her face. “You might’ve gone for the porno magazines, but you’d [i]never[/i] touch paperwork if you could help it. It was the perfect hiding spot.”