The Future is Finally a Mystery

A few weeks had gone by now, since that fated meeting in the tomb.  The elder Ishtar siblings had gone back to work.  Isis had put a lot of attention into her work to keep her distracted from how quiet it was at home.  

On this particular day she had been invited to be a guest tour guide at the local museum near her home.  She didn’t really want to.  She would have rather burned through paperwork without having to put on an act.  

Rishid has been very convincing tho, he reminded her that seeing people was a good thing.  She would feel better seeing the sun and connecting people to history.  

So here she was, a gentle expression on her face as she looked upon the group   Her eyes met a familiar face in the crowd.  Before she had finish processing that  he was a real person and not some strange vision, one of the Museum workers introduced her.

“ Hello everyone! Welcome to our museum.  Today you are in luck.  You will be receiving your tour from Isis Ishtar.  Miss Ishtar is a museum curator working for Supreme Council of Antiquities.  Miss Ishtar would you like to explain your job to these lovely people?”

He had some time before he was going to meet back up with his siblings in the afternoon, so he decided to kill it this way.

That voice.

It sounded familiar. And when he looked up from the pamphlet he had taken at the entrance, he was met with the striking blue eyes and someone who looked very familiar.

But the other staff member had called her ‘Isis Ishtar’… was it really the same person? He hadn’t seen her face in entirety that day in the tomb so he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Diva said nothing at first, saying nothing as the basics were run though and instructions given to the tour group.

It was only when they moved to the next talking point that Diva snuck his way to the front of the group to be within earshot of this ‘Isis’.

Seemed to her now that this was fated, part of some design she no longer was privi to.  Interesting indeed.  She wished that she could stop time to really speak with this young man again.  Now that the original meeting was not a singularity, she was even more interested.

She turned her head to see him.  Her expression in calculating for a moment, but it becomes gentle, as a soft smile forms on her lips.  

“Interesting that you view yourself as dead.”  Was the words that left her mouth.

“Do not get me wrong, I know you died very long ago. But real dead things do not continue to come back.  They do not have goals, or games, or pain.  While you possess Ryou Bakura’s body you can still breath, the heart still beats.  As long as you find yourself in the ring and not in the afterlife, there will always be things I can do to remind you of how painfully alive you are, both in body, and in gold.”

She smiled.  “As long as we are on the same page however, It should be an enjoyable experience for us both, don’t you think?”

Dead things do not come back, no - that is the nature of death, usually. As in most things, Bakura has been an exception to that rule. But the woman’s words give him some pause for the first time in a long while. He’s never actually taken the time to look at this issue from a different perspective. He’s always just been… a ghost.

He knows that he experiences fleeting glimpses of life through his host, that he can feel air inflate his lungs, can feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. On Ryou’s skin. The feelings are the same, but the experience… isn’t.

His expression shifts - it darkens. He doesn’t like thinking about this.

She straightened herself and began moving to the kitchen.

A small smile invaded the corner of her lips at the actions at the words.  She let some silence hang in the air, then made her way over to the couch, leaning over the back of it to look down at him.

Her only reservation about him remained the unfortunate cohabitation of this body.  She couldn’t help find it unfortunate for the host predominately, however part of her felt some pity for the thief’s situation.  Through her eyes he was just deserving of rest, he lived with the cards he had been dealt, just like everyone else.  Just a piece in someone else’s destiny, now left behind and set loose on the world without a goal remaining.  Not unlike the tomb keepers, or Pegasus, or anyone touched by this destiny now left behind.  She did not let any of this contemplation show in her expression.  

“I will let you continue as you are then, and will not reassure my brother to your intentions.”  She sighed.  “My gift to you is not ending this game, and in return I gain my revenge for him keeping secrets.”

A gift, huh?

As he lets the blood rush to his head, he considers this. She will “allow” him to continue acting as he has been, won’t… Well, what could she do to him? He’s essentially incorporeal. The only person she would really be hurting with any physical punishment is his host.

He is, ostensibly, just a piece of jewelry.

“I do appreciate your consideration for our game, but it’s not the largesse you think it is.” His eyes roam the inverted table in front of him, focus on the television set just past it. The screen is dark, but it’s something to look at. “I know you’re used to being in a position of power - one where you can make good on your threats.”

He shrugs.

“Do not get me wrong, I know you died very long ago. But real dead things do not continue to come back.  They do not have goals, or games, or pain.  While you possess Ryou Bakura’s body you can still breath, the heart still beats.  As long as you find yourself in the ring and not in the afterlife, there will always be things I can do to remind you of how painfully alive you are, both in body, and in gold.”

“I do know how it is.”  She quipped back, without hesitation.  He was pushing her.  She would have to clarify.

“I’m sorry if I have caused some sort of miscommunication that has offended you.  So let me make it perfectly clear.”  She began.

She took several gulps of the coffee and moved to pour a second cup.  “I do believe you would be more than capable of committing horrific acts.  Things that could turn stomachs and ruin lives.  A viper in a world of mice.  I do not think you would kill my brother, not that you can’t, or are not capable of it.”

Her eyes where sharp as they cut to the thief.  “I suppose if you ever decide you will, take him out, you are not the only capable of horrific acts.  You will quickly become aware of what predators are lurking.”

Oh, he’s gotten under her skin. Wonderful!

It’s endlessly entertaining. She may be one of the most intimidating people he’s met thus far, but it’s definitely not enough to send him packing. He likes her - thinks that this is fun. It’s nice to be pitted against someone as quick-witted as he is.

“Seems I’m not the only serpent hidden in the grass.”

He slides himself off of the kitchen counter with his cup, lands silently on the tile. Then he pads over to the living room. He sets the mug on the coffee table, climbs onto the couch. Well aware that the woman’s eyes are fixed on him, he swings himself around, hikes his legs up over the back and drapes his head over the seat. The room is now upside-down. He folds his hands over his stomach.

“… You are right in that I won’t kill him.” His frown deepens. “Though I should. He betrayed our alliance, after all. But…”

Eugh. He sighs.

Her only reservation about him remained the unfortunate cohabitation of this body.  She couldn’t help find it unfortunate for the host predominately, however part of her felt some pity for the thief’s situation.  Through her eyes he was just deserving of rest, he lived with the cards he had been dealt, just like everyone else.  Just a piece in someone else’s destiny, now left behind and set loose on the world without a goal remaining.  Not unlike the tomb keepers, or Pegasus, or anyone touched by this destiny now left behind.  She did not let any of this contemplation show in her expression.  

Her expression does not change much.  This still felt like bating, trying to get a reaction out of her.  A single soft huff of laughter escaped her. 

“I suppose both things can be true.  I suppose I still believe the items should be laid peacefully to rest.  Just as all the dead deserve.  However I am not foolish enough to think tossing your ring back in the hole will keep you there.”

She finally looked away from him, turning her face to the coffee cup in her hands.  Her expression became a bit thoughtful.  Unlike the relics she normally dealt with, the items were not something she believed needed displaying.  They were made from suffering, and it felt incorrect to let that suffering continue into the future.  All things must eventually die and pass on to the next life.

 “As for how threatening you are… I have seen nothing in this interaction that suggest you will kill my brother,  I am not concerned in fact I feel rather confident.”

Ishizu did not turn, simply cut her eyes to the thief.  She was curious on his reaction.  She was sure her response would not be what he wanted or what he expected.  Though at the moment it was completely honest.

“I’m glad someone gets it. Everyone else seems to think that chucking the ring into a recess somewhere will be the perfect solution to the problem that is me.” He pauses. “I will say that… there are some that may not deserve the afterlife.”

He watches as she looks away with no small amount of curiosity. His head slowly tips to the left unconsciously. She’s interesting. About as interesting as her brother is, at the very least. There’s something about both of the Ishtars he’s dealt with… They are both so different from the normal rabble that he finds joy in interacting with them, no matter how much frustration also comes out of it.

At her next statement, he frowns. She might be right, but he’s a little disappointed that none of these people take him as a serious threat.

“Not yet, at the very least. I’ve still got use for him.”

He kicks his heels against the cabinet again, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to at least be a little annoying. He has a thought. One that he will save for now - he doesn’t want to truly anger her just yet.

“I’m sorry if I have caused some sort of miscommunication that has offended you.  So let me make it perfectly clear.”  She began.

She took several gulps of the coffee and moved to pour a second cup.  “I do believe you would be more than capable of committing horrific acts.  Things that could turn stomachs and ruin lives.  A viper in a world of mice.  I do not think you would kill my brother, not that you can’t, or are not capable of it.”

She blinked, softening a touch at his surprise.  She was not sure what she said to cause him to move clumsily.

A soft smile tugs at her lips.  She does not hide it, it’s a rather gentle expression.  He was trying to force the conversation to get further.  

“Isn’t that what I should be saying to you?”  She added in a almost sweet tone.  “I suppose I am assessing how everything is here.  Yourself included.”

Bakura prefers this. Focusing on the business at hand.

He doesn’t like the way that she looks at him, though. He’s used to being approached and treated as if he’s a rabid animal. People put up their guard and treat him harshly. She puts up her defenses and speaks nicely at him. She stares at him like she’s solving an equation, like she can see through him.

Idly, he wonders if all of the Ishtars have the same look. He knows that Marik is capable of it. Must be genetic.

“Ah, so that’s what it is.” He knocks the heel of his foot against the cabinet door below him twice. “You’re worried about the items. Not just the rod.”

He grins.

“I suppose both things can be true.  I suppose I still believe the items should be laid peacefully to rest.  Just as all the dead deserve.  However I am not foolish enough to think tossing your ring back in the hole will keep you there.”

She finally looked away from him, turning her face to the coffee cup in her hands.  Her expression became a bit thoughtful.  Unlike the relics she normally dealt with, the items were not something she believed needed displaying.  They were made from suffering, and it felt incorrect to let that suffering continue into the future.  All things must eventually die and pass on to the next life.

 “As for how threatening you are… I have seen nothing in this interaction that suggest you will kill my brother,  I am not concerned in fact I feel rather confident.”

An easy bait, she did not mind the curiosity.  Unfortunately the details were family business, and part of that business includes assessing Bakura as a threat to the items.   “We still live in Egypt, but we are in Domino several times during the year.  We come together for many reasons, to discuss family business, museum business, and sometimes, no, most of the time…”

She glance around as if about to confide some kind of secret.  “Most of the time, we get together… because we like spending time together.”   She hummed taking a moment to sip at the coffee.  “It is not strange that we went unnoticed, after all you only began seeing my brother fairly recently as well.”

He almost laughs. She almost rips a genuine chuckle out of him.

Still, the idea that anyone would want to spend time together just because they’re family, just because they like each other… is a little foreign to him, these days. It’s been… thousands of years now that he’s been alone.

Before he became a chimeric being comprised of a man’s soul and part of a demon sealed into a hunk of gold, his only companions had been other graverobbers and thieves. So even then, he had been… he has always been solo.

He frowns.

“Sounds nice.”

He’s taking a drink as she makes her next statement. It causes him to start - he almost spills on himself. What, exactly, has Marik been telling her that they’ve been doing? What impression is she under?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bakura takes a second to steady himself. “Technically we were working together when he was still trying to take out the Pharaoh… Our current exchange is still fairly new, I guess.”

He feels like he’s lost whatever small semblance of control he had in this situation. Time to get things back on track.

A soft smile tugs at her lips.  She does not hide it, it’s a rather gentle expression.  He was trying to force the conversation to get further.  

A promise to try seemed to be more than enough for her.  At least in this moment.  She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she is hurt and he gained anything of use from it.  Aside from her wit she held no guards up.

Outwardly she does not seem phased much by him at all.  “You did not answer my question as to why you are here.  I suppose I could infer, and guess at your answers.”

She opened a cabinet and pulled down a plastic container of sugar, sliding it over to him.

“Though I would rather not make assumptions, and base my opinions on my observations and your answers.”  She pulled a spoon out of the drawer and offered it to him.  Her eyes were trained on Bakura, waiting for a response.

His avoiding the question hadn’t gone unnoticed. Of course.

It doesn’t necessarily reflect well on him that he swung by to terrorize and possibly rob this woman’s brother. While he doesn’t regularly care about that kind of thing, he also doesn’t want to be thrown out immediately. He hasn’t even finished his drink.

Speaking of, he gladly takes the spoon from Isis and pops open the container. With steady hands, he scoops two decent piles of sugar into his cup.

“You know why already, so why go to the trouble?” He shrugs, stirring with one hand and closing the container with the other. “I’m sure your brother has told you what my last few visits have been for.”

He takes another sip of coffee. This time, it’s a bit more palatable. He can live with this.

She hummed, giving it a hard moment consideration.  She knew most of the things he referenced, though not from his perspective.  She would keep a harsh eye on him.  She removed her hand from the window, though did not offer to help him through. Not yet at least.  

She stepped away, and pulled another cup down from the cabinets.  Interesting, he wasn’t denying being on good terms with her brother, which means they were getting along, or it was simply a manipulation tactic.  Either way, she felt rather secure in her physical safety.

“Interesting attempting flattery, and some willingness to comply.  Very well.”

  She poured a second cup of coffee for him, before stepping back over.  She watched him for a moment, then slipped her hand under the window and pushed it up.  

“You may enter, as long as you behave yourself.  Tell me, why are you here?”

The pressure is removed - finally. He begins to wiggle, force the pane up bit by bit until he finds that he has enough room to move a little. It isn’t until the woman mercifully shoves the window open in full that he’s able to pull the entire way through, though.

He catches himself on his hands and drops into a crouch without waiting for her to move out of the way, but manages to keep from knocking into her at the least. When he gets to his feet, he brushes the front of his shirt off. He looks to the Ishtar.

“I’ll make no promises.” He grins, picking up the mug meant for him. “But I will try.”

He takes a sip and his face contorts. He hasn’t actually tried coffee before now. His host is partial to teas, which don’t taste quite as bitter. He’s used to those, but even then he prefers to have some honey to sweeten it up a little.

Outwardly she does not seem phased much by him at all.  “You did not answer my question as to why you are here.  I suppose I could infer, and guess at your answers.”

She opened a cabinet and pulled down a plastic container of sugar, sliding it over to him.

Her eyes remain hard, however a gentle smile crosses her face.  “Ah, You know my name.”  She sounded almost genuinely flattered.  A form of lying she was very good at, to appease her peers.  But her gaze was a give away.  She did not feel a reason to mask her analytical gaze.  She was studying like a lab rat.

She kept her hand on the window, moving just enough to lean on the counter.  Her tone remains even and gentle.  “Interesting, and pray tell, why would it benefit me to set you free, when I have you in a position to ask all my questions?”

She hummed taking a sip of her coffee again.  There were many questions she could ask, what results did she want?  The man obviously seemed harmless at the moment.  

“For example, you are being rather cordial despite your current predicament.  That seems out of character based on the information I have about you.  So, are you being docile because I am in control of this situation, or because you would like to stay on strange but good terms with my brother?”

She hummed.  “Or I could ask you dull questions, like historical events you may have bared witness, I could come up with all sorts of dull things while I have you, captive audience.”

This one is… intelligent. Cunning, even. He can see it in the way that she looks at him. He knows that gaze; scrutinizing, sizing him up.

He smiles as sweetly as possible, but is fairly certain it comes out twisted. He’s never been good at it.

“I meant the coffee, but freedom would also be appreciated.” He holds a hand up under his chin, bats his eyes for a second. “If he said we were on good terms, I won’t contest it, but not everything has to do with him. Perhaps I just recognize someone worthy of my respect - which is rare.”

Already, he’s getting tired of holding his torso up. There’s nothing to brace himself against in this position. His smile turns a little sour.

She stepped away, and pulled another cup down from the cabinets.  Interesting, he wasn’t denying being on good terms with her brother, which means they were getting along, or it was simply a manipulation tactic.  Either way, she felt rather secure in her physical safety.

“Interesting attempting flattery, and some willingness to comply.  Very well.”

  She poured a second cup of coffee for him, before stepping back over.  She watched him for a moment, then slipped her hand under the window and pushed it up.  

Ishizu watches with unimpressed dead eyes.  

Marik had filled her in on most things, so it was not completely unsurprising to see the spirit of the ring.  And yet she felt pretty sure she had not seen him in person before. The necklace had given her visions of multiple versions of the events of battle city.  Apart from this, Marik had explained the reappearance of the spirit, but seemed a bit sheepish on the details.  His telling off events made him sound like a top threat, however his tones were not quite right.

The millennium sister took the three steps required of her to reach the window.  With her free hand she reached out and closed the window down upon him.  She took a sip from her coffee.  “Nice to finally meet you, Spirit of the ring.  My brother is not here at the moment, but if you care to hang around I can get you a cup of coffee.”

Bakura attempts to scuttle through before the woman reaches him, but finds that he’s unable to fully free himself from the window before it is closed atop him.

Fantastic.

This isn’t going at all how he’d wanted. But he’s going to have to adapt on his feet. Or… on his stomach, in this case. At least this woman is… reasonably amiable. He fights to keep himself from sneering.

“Ah, you’re familiar with my work. I’m flattered. You must be…” He pretends to think for a moment, as if he doesn’t immediately remember what Marik has offhandedly told him about their small family unit. “Isis. I’d say the feeling is mutual, but I’m in a rather uncomfortable position right now, so that would be a lie.”

He gestures limply with his arms. He’s almost tempted to relinquish control so that his host can deal with this mess. This is a golden opportunity to learn more about his favorite Ishtar, however, so he can’t do that quite yet.

She kept her hand on the window, moving just enough to lean on the counter.  Her tone remains even and gentle.  “Interesting, and pray tell, why would it benefit me to set you free, when I have you in a position to ask all my questions?”

She hummed taking a sip of her coffee again.  There were many questions she could ask, what results did she want?  The man obviously seemed harmless at the moment.  

“For example, you are being rather cordial despite your current predicament.  That seems out of character based on the information I have about you.  So, are you being docile because I am in control of this situation, or because you would like to stay on strange but good terms with my brother?”

starter for @millenniumgod

In most circumstances their trips to Domino were scheduled long before the dates.  The eldest Ishtar siblings were often very busy and they trusted Marik to handle things.  But when Marik had called and confessed what was happening, and having the rod, Ishizu and Odion were on the next flight out.

Thus began a several day long battle of wills as the siblings began discussing what to do.  It was this evening the brothers had left to pick up dinner, while Ishizu rested.

She was awake now, on this evening, brewing a pot of coffee.  Hair freshly washed and his curls untamed for the moment.  Once this arguing and tense energy settled this would end up being a rather nice vacation.  

She blinked, there was a sound outside of the coffee brewing.  She poured a cup, keeping her sharp eyes on the window.

He doesn’t bother deleting texts any more. His host is already aware of his extracurricular activities.

So when he looks at the time on their cellular device, he sees the hour-old notification from his tormentee telling him to go away. More accurately, it says “I’m not home, for real”, which obviously means he’s just trying to avoid the spirit.

Bakura presses his fingers hard on the glass of Marik Ishtar’s kitchen window and begins to push upward. It resists at first, but the lock is still broken - so it gives after a bit of a fight. He should bring a water displacer next time; spray up the frame so it doesn’t stick so badly.

After a breath, he hoists himself up over the sill, and begins to shimmy through. As he does, he happens to glance up… and freezes.

There is a woman standing in the middle of the kitchen, in front of the coffee machine. She is… not Marik.

Marik had filled her in on most things, so it was not completely unsurprising to see the spirit of the ring.  And yet she felt pretty sure she had not seen him in person before. The necklace had given her visions of multiple versions of the events of battle city.  Apart from this, Marik had explained the reappearance of the spirit, but seemed a bit sheepish on the details.  His telling off events made him sound like a top threat, however his tones were not quite right.

As she thought, and yet not as she expected at all.  A rather polite young man.  She could have never expected his connection.  The scriptures she grew up with never really spoke of the sister clan.  Tho her mind did draw to image the Man she and Marik met on his 11th birthday.  She had learned a little about him in the following years from an unlikely source.  She thought of the story Pegasus had told her about acquiring the millennium eye.  That was the only way she learned of Shadi’s name, the connection.

She wondered if the young man’s master was one and the same.  It seemed likely.  Yet the information that drew her attention was not the who, but the where.  

“You lived here?”  The surprise was clear in her voice.  A soft sound escaped her, it was impossible to tell if it was a bitter laugh, or a suppressed sob.  “Then we grew along side each other.  My childhood home consist of the tombs down below our very feet, and stretching beyond just this ruin.”

How should she introduce herself or her brother?  Her role was of no consequences anymore, and any extended tomb keeper clan remaining today had scattered to the winds after the Pharaoh departed.  But part of her felt compelled to offer the young man an answer to perhaps ease him, yet not Identify her if he wished to seek her out.

“You are welcome to call me as my friends do, by the name Ishizu.  And I was once the keeper of the Millennium necklace.  My brother was the keeper of the Pharaoh’s lost memories, I believe he may be… about your age? Tho it is hard to tell in the dark.”

She looked down, placing a hand over her neck and chest, a habit of old.  “His role was one of great physical and mental pain and sorrow.  Because of his life he is often tortured by our past.  That has been, exasperated by the tombs desecration.  I fear he may choose a permanent solution to a temporary problem…”

She sighed, and finally moved away from the edge of the hole, in his direction.  “Forgive my boldness, and hypocrisy, but… whatever you are struggling with.  I urge you to seek your answers among the living.  It is only in living that one can move past the darkness to find the Light.”

She stopped near him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, praying she did not overstep.  “We will all be ok.”

“Below… here?”

Befuddled, he glanced down at the ground beneath his feet. The writings the Plana had found about the tombkeepers never had any hint at the location of the clan’s residence. Yet here it was, apparently beneath their own feet this entire time. Diva wished he could ask Master Shin… why had he gone such lengths to hide these people’s existence? What was Diva missing?

It seemed they had more in common than previously thought, though…He had a lot to consider, as well as some things to look into.

Diva is shaken out of his line of thought as Ishizu approaches him. While to some it would have appeared preachy of her, the self acknowledgement of hypocrisy says a lot to the contrary to Diva, causing him to give her words more thought.

“You remind me of my sister,” he says after a quiet moment of consideration. Like Sera, it was like this woman knew what to say and how to say it to him. Like she was Sera’s long-lost cousin or something–well, if the tombkeepers hadn’t allegedly cut themselves off from the outside world that was.

“Perhaps you have a point. Thank you, Ishizu. I think I know deep down that my master would prefer me to move on from his death and grow in new ways. But after relying on him for so long… it takes some getting used to, you know?

Those words were almost enough to tear open at least a few of the stitches holding her heart together.  This young man was not completely unlike her brother.  The same lose in his eyes, over a loved one long gone.  She gently squeezed his shoulder.

“I do know…  Grief hurts as intensely as love shines.  It is painful to balance.”

She thought of her mother, her father, and now all that was left was the three of them.  She would find her brother.  Find him alive.

 “I genuinely appreciate your well wishing.”

She let go of him, and turned to begin her walk away.  She glanced back.