Nyxella
TokyoPewPew
Tlaloc
Hearing Vera’s poem was a bittersweet moment for Shay, as her voice, angelic and light, filled the great room for an expectant audience. He was brought back to but a few short days before, where it was just the two of them in his apartment, where her heart was set free enough to sing. How mesmerized he was, how charmed, he was at the moment, wondering with awe how she had stumbled into his life.
Now he wasn’t sure of the woman sitting next to him, reciting strange words as she played the role to deceive another family. Shay downed his brandy, imagining the liquor were an acid that would dissolve the lump that had formed in his throat. Was he being too hard on Vera? She was playing the part magnificently and seemed absolutely genuine in her efforts to apologize for what she did. He knew full well she had a problem with opium; he just never appreciated it would have consequences.
It’s like she’s shell shocked, Shay suddenly realized, appreciating her struggle all the more while feeling guilt for his hostile indifference towards her. He loved her, he truly did. He was just doing a piss poor job showing it.
Albert’s voice broke through Shay’s concentration, and at the prompt invitation to see his Hall of Curiosities, Shay smiled, genuinely excited at the prospect. He might have been a self-taught con in the span of a few days, but it didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate things of such rich historical value. Seeing a low quality image in a book would never compare to the real thing.
‘Abigale’ and ‘Conway’ were led through a few more corridors, the entire residence starting to seem more labyrinthine by the minute, and many of the hallways had paintings and portraits, some familiar, most not, and Shay was hoping to catch a glimpse of the painting that Vera and himself were charged with locating. While it was perfectly understandable for one to be curious of the decorum, and collectors were prideful of their collections as if they were the ones who painted or crafted them as they were status symbols of wealth and culture, Shay knew he could not let his gaze linger for too long. He hoped Vera managed to have better luck finding the prospective target than he was.
Before long, a double set of ash doors were opened and Albert’s “Hall of Curiosities” opened before them like a museum exhibit. While much of the artifacts on display were accessible on a shelf, others were kept in illuminated glass cases. Shay immediately recognized the jewelled scarabs, a section of Hieroglyphics on a sandstone tablet, a pair of the Menat amulets, a rack of four crook staffs, and on the Persian side of things, a stone bust of Darius, some copper jewelry which were green cast due to time, and an entire wall was dedicated to an impressive wall carving of a lion, incredibly well preserved after all these centuries. Shay, however, recalled the conversation of when they first met and honed in on the jars with animal heads at the end of the room. “This are the Canopic jars!” Shay exclaimed with enthusiasm, hurrying across the room to look at them in closer details. After spending about seven hours specifically trying to figure out what the hell was the deal with the jars, he almost felt eager to test his knowledge.
“Right you are, “ Albert chuckled good naturedly, joining Shay to admire the clay craftsmanship.
It took a while for him to realize that the heads were not specifically the more well-known gods like Rah, Anubis, and Osiris, but rather the sons of Horus. Of the four, only Imsety and Duamutef were present, the start of the collection. Given how easy it was to find counterfeit artifacts pop up from particularly ambitious Egyptian scalpers, it was understandable that Albert was a little more than eager to find out if his latest acquisition was what he hoped it was. Shay found himself sharing the man’s sentiment in hoping it was genuine.
“May I?” Shay asked, gesturing to the jackal-headed jar. Albert opened a drawer near the display, pulling out a pair of cotton gloves. “I hope these are your size, Conway. Go ahead; I am eager to hear your appraisal.” Albert replied with a warm smile. It was hard not to feel guilty about the real reason for being here, but Shay had to remind himself that if the von Goethes knew their real identities as common riff raff, they would likely view them with scorn. The politeness and courtesy had to do more with their perceived wealth and high class than their personalities.
Shay slipped on the gloves and gingerly grasped the jar, suddenly aware of the gravity that he was holding something that was both priceless and thousands of years old. He carefully turned the jar in both hands, looking for signs of wear, for anything that looked too new. The paints also were not easily replicated colours, so a knock off would look the part if they had shades too reminiscent to modern techniques and materials, and anything that looked like it might have been carved out with a rotary file. So far, he wasn’t seeing anything to suggest that this wasn’t anything but a genuine article.
“I must commend you on your discerning eye, Albert, I feel like the last time I’ve seen one of these was in Alexandria on the River Delta waiting for a ship back home. If this is a forgery, it is unlike any I’ve seen before and I am wholly convinced you have acquired a genuine Duamutef Canopic jar. I must profess my envy, sir. Your entire collection is astounding.” Shay replied with a smile, carefully setting the jar back in its place.
The German clasped his hands together. “Absolutely splendid! It is always such a joy when a second set of knowledgeable eyes can confirm your thoughts. My collection is still growing, but I believe I’ve acquired some truly magnificent pieces, would you agree?”
“Without reservation, this is astonishing. It feels like this room is right out of the London museum. You’d make a fair curator.” Shay said, pacing about the room to examine some of the cases.
Now he wasn’t sure of the woman sitting next to him, reciting strange words as she played the role to deceive another family. Shay downed his brandy, imagining the liquor were an acid that would dissolve the lump that had formed in his throat. Was he being too hard on Vera? She was playing the part magnificently and seemed absolutely genuine in her efforts to apologize for what she did. He knew full well she had a problem with opium; he just never appreciated it would have consequences.
It’s like she’s shell shocked, Shay suddenly realized, appreciating her struggle all the more while feeling guilt for his hostile indifference towards her. He loved her, he truly did. He was just doing a piss poor job showing it.
Albert’s voice broke through Shay’s concentration, and at the prompt invitation to see his Hall of Curiosities, Shay smiled, genuinely excited at the prospect. He might have been a self-taught con in the span of a few days, but it didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate things of such rich historical value. Seeing a low quality image in a book would never compare to the real thing.
‘Abigale’ and ‘Conway’ were led through a few more corridors, the entire residence starting to seem more labyrinthine by the minute, and many of the hallways had paintings and portraits, some familiar, most not, and Shay was hoping to catch a glimpse of the painting that Vera and himself were charged with locating. While it was perfectly understandable for one to be curious of the decorum, and collectors were prideful of their collections as if they were the ones who painted or crafted them as they were status symbols of wealth and culture, Shay knew he could not let his gaze linger for too long. He hoped Vera managed to have better luck finding the prospective target than he was.
Before long, a double set of ash doors were opened and Albert’s “Hall of Curiosities” opened before them like a museum exhibit. While much of the artifacts on display were accessible on a shelf, others were kept in illuminated glass cases. Shay immediately recognized the jewelled scarabs, a section of Hieroglyphics on a sandstone tablet, a pair of the Menat amulets, a rack of four crook staffs, and on the Persian side of things, a stone bust of Darius, some copper jewelry which were green cast due to time, and an entire wall was dedicated to an impressive wall carving of a lion, incredibly well preserved after all these centuries. Shay, however, recalled the conversation of when they first met and honed in on the jars with animal heads at the end of the room. “This are the Canopic jars!” Shay exclaimed with enthusiasm, hurrying across the room to look at them in closer details. After spending about seven hours specifically trying to figure out what the hell was the deal with the jars, he almost felt eager to test his knowledge.
“Right you are, “ Albert chuckled good naturedly, joining Shay to admire the clay craftsmanship.
It took a while for him to realize that the heads were not specifically the more well-known gods like Rah, Anubis, and Osiris, but rather the sons of Horus. Of the four, only Imsety and Duamutef were present, the start of the collection. Given how easy it was to find counterfeit artifacts pop up from particularly ambitious Egyptian scalpers, it was understandable that Albert was a little more than eager to find out if his latest acquisition was what he hoped it was. Shay found himself sharing the man’s sentiment in hoping it was genuine.
“May I?” Shay asked, gesturing to the jackal-headed jar. Albert opened a drawer near the display, pulling out a pair of cotton gloves. “I hope these are your size, Conway. Go ahead; I am eager to hear your appraisal.” Albert replied with a warm smile. It was hard not to feel guilty about the real reason for being here, but Shay had to remind himself that if the von Goethes knew their real identities as common riff raff, they would likely view them with scorn. The politeness and courtesy had to do more with their perceived wealth and high class than their personalities.
Shay slipped on the gloves and gingerly grasped the jar, suddenly aware of the gravity that he was holding something that was both priceless and thousands of years old. He carefully turned the jar in both hands, looking for signs of wear, for anything that looked too new. The paints also were not easily replicated colours, so a knock off would look the part if they had shades too reminiscent to modern techniques and materials, and anything that looked like it might have been carved out with a rotary file. So far, he wasn’t seeing anything to suggest that this wasn’t anything but a genuine article.
“I must commend you on your discerning eye, Albert, I feel like the last time I’ve seen one of these was in Alexandria on the River Delta waiting for a ship back home. If this is a forgery, it is unlike any I’ve seen before and I am wholly convinced you have acquired a genuine Duamutef Canopic jar. I must profess my envy, sir. Your entire collection is astounding.” Shay replied with a smile, carefully setting the jar back in its place.
The German clasped his hands together. “Absolutely splendid! It is always such a joy when a second set of knowledgeable eyes can confirm your thoughts. My collection is still growing, but I believe I’ve acquired some truly magnificent pieces, would you agree?”
“Without reservation, this is astonishing. It feels like this room is right out of the London museum. You’d make a fair curator.” Shay said, pacing about the room to examine some of the cases.
