Semyon's plan fell a bit short, when he discovered nothing but smooth walls where the entrance to the vault had been. Pausing mid-step, the Wight regarded sight with mild surprise. Certainly, they had come from this direction. Though it wasn't a stretch to consider things weren't 'normal' in this vault, it still seemed strange for a doorway to simply... vanish.
Thinking it might be a simple glamour, Semyon took another step forwards, tapping his pistol lightly upon the stone.
"No no, undead one, that way is closed." The voice stopped him once more, but he lowered his weapon without concern. The voice was familiar, even if he could not see Isis herself. "Turn back."
Semyon acquiesced, turning into blinding light that sent him stumbling back against the wall. It radiated outwards from the Ankh Tamarind had held in her possession, now floating high above his comrades. Soft words and subtle colors toyed with his senses as he stood there.
For a moment, he did nothing but listen to the Goddess' words echoing through the air. For a moment, he did nothing but watch the light play across the room all around. Again, he felt it again, familiar sensations he just couldn't quite place. A vague, longing nostalgia. It wrapped around him in dazzling beauty, thanking for his contribution, and promising safe travel to the London headquarters of his company.
Pity though, that he hadn't managed to get Romanoff a gift.
"Just ask." The voice curled about his ears once more, "As thanks for helping retrieve what is mine."
A gift for her then, something she would like to read.
Of course."
Light dominated his world as she spoke, and he found himself weightless, suspended for an instant within indescribable sensation once more. It faded as it came, too soon it seemed, yet the memory of it etched into his mind.
The sights of the Bain&Hoyle London Branch Grand Hall greeted Semyon's pale gaze now. A somewhat... disappointing site compared to what he had just witnessed, but welcoming in it's own way. They had completed their task quite quickly, and now could move on to assist Mr. Hoyle with the task he had originally called them to. Hopefully it would temper any ill feelings the venerable Werewolf might have, that they returned as swiftly as they did. Though even if they did not, Semyon no real guilt at his choice.
A subtle weight pressed down upon his free hand as he took in the surroundings, gaze falling upon a tightly-bound scroll held in his grasp. The parchment was stained and frayed at the edges, but appeared preserved well enough. Lips managing to raise slightly higher than usual, he knelt down to tuck it away in his pack, wrapping it tightly within the towel he had brought. It should keep it well enough, better than any other method he had on hand, at least.
Rising up to remove his suppressor and re-holster his pistol securely, the Wight gave the now-arriving Atticus a polite nod. It seemed the man wanted to speak with their newly-revived comrade first, so he avoided interrupting any conversation that may happen.
It was enough that they had brought back an old comrade, could continue to assist Mr. Hoyle, and that he had found something for Romanoff as well. He would have to thank Isis properly for that one... which meant a second trip to Egypt after things were done here, which would probably lead right into another trek through Siberia...
Semyon's smile faded slightly, one gloved hand running across the smooth top of his head at a sudden thought.
He wasn't going to be getting back to his job at the club anytime soon, was he?