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Dion
Strang3F0xLady
Romero
canaryrose
Nallore
Warrior in the Shadows
Kuro
Veilsight
@Morose @FantasyChic @ONL - Reach into the waters all you like but Nora can't seem to get a grip on what keeps reflecting in the water. The other two of you wander down by the Nile and you have the same thing occuring which started happening with Nora just a short time ago. Your finger burns, the item from your dream is reflecting in the Nile. Now all three of you, the item seems to move. Flashing and pulling you, if you try to wander away from it the burning gets stronger, as long as you follow it; it is tolerable. That is until each image comes together when you three are close enough to see the other on the banks of the Nile, then it become searing before the pain and the image finally fade away. On each of your fingers now, there is a branding where the burning could be felt, in the same shape as the one from your dream.
Location: Egyptian Museum
Vera gasps out, trying to keep herself up on the ladder without making it spill over or her loosing her grip. Her heels locking on one of the rungs, teetering back and forth as Reginald grabs a hold of the ladder and tries to keep his niece from spilling out onto the floor below. Jerking slightly Vera bends over, her mouth agape as her breathing trembled. Why did she always have to get herself into messes like this? It wasn't the first time. The first time she had knocked over rows and rows of book cases. She had spoken with the curator afterwards, after he chewed her out for the hundredth time for one of her little catastrophes. They had gone and made sure that the book cases now were all bolted to the floor. She had begged them to put in rungs for the ladders to lock onto but they just hadn't gotten around to it as of yet.
With William coming over she jostled again, trying to lean in to the ladder as it was carefully leaned back towards the bookshelf, but Vera was not the most graceful of characters and she was far from being a cat. The woman never landed on her feet. A slip of the heel and a scream echoing out of her lung as she fell back. Her rear end crashing right into Mr. Drakes chest as her feet hit a lower rung of the ladder, sending them both back into the other bookshelf behind them. Her hands flailing around and her fingers grabbing Williams hair, pulling it and tugging it as she tried to keep herself from falling any further. Her eyes closed tight so she didn't know how far from the ground she was, which at this point was only like a foot if she had bothered to open her eyes and look down.
Rushing into her office, the curator stopped in his tracks as he spotted Ver there, butt up in Mr. Drakes chest, the ladder slamming into the bookshelf and papers spilling out everywhere as a couple of books hit the floor. The man brought his hands up to his face and rubbed it before turning on his heels and walking straight back out of the office, muttering something about Allah forgetting to write about this particular plague of Egypt. Vera slowly opened one eye and then the other as it had been far too long in her mind to not have hit the floor as of yet. Sliding down Williams body as she put her feet down finally from the kicking and flailing she had been doing. Looking down at her hands she gasped out as she noticed she had a good few strands in each palm. Turning she looked up at William and her eyes went wide. "Mr. Drake! I am so sorry!"
Location: Alf Leyla Salah at Opera Square
Aziza wasn't exactly sure what to do or think at that point. She was used to being yelled at from time to time from some radical conservative. It was all part and parcel of the area and what she did for a living. The rock though, it was not something she had felt tear into her skin since the day she fled her home to keep from being stoned to death. Looking over towards Lauren she gave her friend a grateful look and slowly got to her feet. Taking the rag and holding it against the side of her head as she was helped to the back of the club with Harry following closely behind them.
She was glad that Harry was close and hadn't run off after the man; for several reasons. One because if the man was who she thought it was, it was going to get messy and she didn't want him caught up in her drama. Two, him being close put her at a little more ease. Sure she had guards at the club but they had to tend to everyone, they couldn't stay by her side right then. It was a coin flip of a situation. Part of her wishing Harry wasn't there so he wouldn't get mixed up in things, part of her glad he was.
Sitting down she pulled the rag away, it was a sizeable gash and would scar but thankfully it wasn't anything that would have required some sort of medical attention, at least not in the 1920's. Looking at the blood on the rag she sighed slightly and shook her head, to which her hand quickly came up and she groaned. She was not going to keep performing tonight if such a simple head movement cause her head to swim. "Thank you," she said looking over at Lauren as she tried to force a thin lipped smile as her shoulders slumped down.
The rock that had been thrown would look like a normal stone, except for Egyptian Arabic carved into it. It wasn't a common collection of lettering but one that anyone that had come to the club more than once would have recognized; at least the first few letters; spelling about Aziza's name. The rest, it would take someone fluent in the language to be able to read. From out front one of the usual bouncers came in to check on Aziza.
"You okay?" he asked as he stood in the doorway holding back the curtain somewhat. Aziza just nodded as she put the rag back against her head. "Okay, take the night off, go home," he instructed her. Aziza nodded once again and he turned and left. Sighing to herself she lowered her head a bit.
"Not going home tonight. I doubt it is safe," she muttered to herself.
