[hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Deeper%20Than%20The%20Sands:%20Chapter%20One&name=prinp___.ttf&size=30&style_color=f7976a[/img][hr][h3][b][color=f7976a]October 5th, 1924[/color][/b][/h3][hr][hr][/center]
	Whether things were going well elsewhere in Cairo, at least one thing was. The man finally gave in on price for Lauren and sold her the meat she wanted. At least that was over with and now the kitty would have something to eat, as well as Veras cat whenever she decided to show her whiskers. The curator had never been a fan of cats in the museum, even with their attachment to Egyptian mythology, but it was probably for good reason. They tended to get under foot and cause havoc. That was the last thing a building with artifacts that were thousands of years old needed. Yet they were there. 

	Speaking of the curator, he was giving Mosi's escort a hell of a stink eye and then Mosi herself before shaking head and walking off, muttering something in Arabic under his breath. Akhmed just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Mosi. "Why you are marked, I do not know. Um, no, that is a Jackal and it is his head, not a mask. At least that is how the legend goes." Looking around, people were starting to visit the museum. "Let me take you to Lady Munns office, perhaps she can help you with this," he said. It wasn't that he wanted to leave the woman hanging but he did have a job to do. Turning he offered her an arm, not so much as an escort but as help due to the branding. "If anything she can make sure that is cleaned and bound so it doesn't get infected."

	[color=f7976a]"Oh yes, of course,"[/color] Vera said as Mahendra asked for some water. She herself had yet to be branded but she could sympathize. The woman had a horrible habit of getting injured due to her clumsiness. Pain was never something fun to endure. Picking up a glass she poured the man some water from the pitcher which set on the table in her office. Resting the it down she walked the glass off water over to him. Or at least she tried. What happened next can only be described as a series of very unfortunate events. 

	You see, Vera has the worst luck staying on her feet. Having a cat about didn't make that any better. Remember what I was saying about cats in a museum being a bad idea? This was a perfect example of that. Somewhere between Vera walking over towards Mahendra and trying to hand him the glass the cat got under her already unsure feet. There was a splash of water to the mans face before the glass shattered right into face. Glass splintering into his face digging deep as blood came from the wounds. 

	Vera jumped back and shrieked. Turning and running to grab what was known as a her first aide basket, it was something the curator has insisted she keep in her office considering the amount of damage she caused to herself or others but would a few strips of linen really help a man who had a large chunk of glass in his throat? Actually, probably. Sad fact of the matter was while his injuries were bad. Vera rushing off to play nursemaid was not the best idea. She tripped again nearly impaled herself ear through to ear on a fireplace poker leaning against the fireplace in her office. She just missed it. 

	George leaned back in his seat, and began to speak. His words were a bit more flowing than normal but it was obvious that too much talking made his voice more and more gravelly. He told of how Peter found him, how he had taken him back to the hospital, how he had visited him. Then he told of how Peter had been shot down, how that piece of metal had impaled him in the leg, how it held him there as the Germans closed in, how he fought them as best he could pinned to that fence. Peter had kept it as a reminder that you never stop fighting. As he finished he raised a glass. [color=598527]"Mmmm, too Peter, the bravest man I ever knew."[/color]

	Oh that roll in chat? Yeah, outside of the museum erupted a roar of screams as a pillar of smoke seemed to move through the crowd. The sea of people parting as someone who was lit on fire was running frantically through the streets. It was Neema, her flesh bubbling and dripping from her muscles and bones as she ran - until she was hit by a passing taxi and ended up laid out on the ground not twenty feet from Lauren. No one is having a fucking good day.