𝕣𝕦𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖

Adventurer Archaeologist: Which makes her kicking open old vases looking for treasure all the more cringe.

Badass Bookworm: Lara. Sam's diaries talk about how Lara was more interested in ruins and history than checking out the local hot spots on previous "adventures", and that in college Sam had to practically drag Lara away from her books.

Doom Magnet: At some point, Lara regards herself as one and believes all the ones she cares about will die because of her.

Female Fighter, Male Handler: In the reboot games, various male characters sometimes brief Lara on her mission objectives throughout the game.

Feminist Fantasy: A young woman finds herself crashed on an island home to a violent murderous cult that only accepts men and brutally kills any women who happen upon the island. Said woman is forced to fight her way as an Army of One to save her friends and herself from them. Can it get more explicitly feminist than that?

Iconic Item: Lara's bow and arrows, as well as her ice axe.

Innocence Lost: Pretty much the whole point of the plot is watching Lara get torn apart and put back together in one long, brutal Break the Cutie moment.

“Wait, hold up,” he said, eyes wide, mouth open. “You mean–the Ark of the Covenant didn’t actually melt a bunch of Nazi faces off? That’s not historically accurate? Shit, dude. No wonder I did so badly in history class.”

Percy had spent most of his childhood shuffled from school to boarding school. There weren’t many family nights at home–when Gabe had been part of the picture, there wasn’t much in the way of family at all. When there were, there hadn’t been much money. A good night together, one of precious few, had been a muggy summer night, Gabe playing poker at someone else’s apartment, Percy and Sally curled on the couch with an old adventure movie and (blue) snacks. Lots of Star Wars. Lots of Indiana Jones. Some Die Hard. And, weirdly, a good amount of The Sound of Music? Sally’s choice, clearly. Definitely. Every time. Nothing to do with Percy at all.

He missed those nights.

Now, he was here, an adult, responsible for overseeing some kind of historical excavation with a cool, pretty, young, very self-serious archaeologist. He felt goofy just standing there in his uniform, glibly cracking jokes and trying to stay more or less out of her way. He didn’t have many answers about anything, just the offhand Hey, Jackson, go deal with the rocks he’d been given when he’d clocked in that morning.

“Should be fine. Worst that happens is I get fired, then I call your boss to get you fired, too, and then we hate each other and start some kind of blood feud.” He shrugged, then shook his head and pushed his hair out of his face. “I’m kidding. Do your thing. Tell me if I can help? At all?”

“If it makes you feel any better I was failed for knowing too much history” Lara admitted with an amused smile, she could vividly recall arguing with her teachers on topics after she had informed them that they were wrong “because apparently there is such a thing.” It had always landed her in hot water, but that had never stopped Lara from standing up and telling a teacher they didn’t know what they were talking about, and it helped that her guardian Roth had known many critically acclaimed archaeologists and historians that had backed her up when the headteachers came calling about her behaviour. 

The idea of losing her job, even in a pretend context, should worry Lara more than it did. But she always had her side hustle of consulting on artefacts and relics for other archaeologists around the world, and it always meant she could travel more. She hadn’t been out on an expedition in years. “A blood feud?” Lara quirks her brow in amusement, a laugh dancing on her lips “Once you see some of the stuff I keep in my toolbox you might change your mind of going up against me.” Not to mention the ancient weapons they had over at the museum, Lara could be a fearsome foe if she needed to be, she supposed.

People who believed in mythology and fairytales were usually grasping at straws. Saints bathed in golden light who were little more than girls playing dress up. The thought had him getting a flicker of something - someone. The sun. He shivered, a memory dragged up of a place bathed in darkness, where it seemed no light could penetrate. Swooping monsters preying on anything that pumped blood through its veins. A girl with antlers that encircled her throat. He shivered. These memories came at the worst times, and one of his must acute failings was in the ability to push back his own intrusive thoughts.

“Then I’d argue it’s a very good thing that we don’t know where the key is.” He said. It seemed he’d, inadvertently, possibly stopped something dangerous from happening; kept the box that was rumored to be so dangerous out of the hands of some wealthy man who probably believed it could do all that and more. It wasn’t that Kaz believed any of that - he didn’t. 

But people tended to fight for power, even when they couldn’t bear it. 

It was an interesting myth, if clearly a far-fetched one. Burn everything down and start anew. That was a feeling that echoed hollowly in his chest, all too familiar. “What will you do with it, now?”

“Yes, it is probably for the best that they remain apart” The irrational part of Lara’s brain agreed, but the part that loved her job and discovering new things would always be disappointed to not have the complete set. It was the archaeologist in her, cultivated by her father. Lara decided she would keep her search for the key a private thing and hopefully that would stop anyone who did believe in the myths and legends from trying to acquire them both from her for nefarious purposes. She would never be one to tell people what to believe, hence why she actively told the stories behind the artefacts and relics she worked with, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t roll her eyes at them for getting a little too carried away.

“Oh, you’ve no need to apologise,” Jamie replied, smoothly and effortlessly attempting to assuage the other woman’s guilt as if it was any concern of hers at all. “I’m sure it brought back lovely memories. That is one of the many joys of art. No matter who you are, it can transport you to another time, or place.” This was one of the rare occasions in which she truly meant, and felt, the emotion which she was discussing. She may have had little regard for many things, but her respect for art was doubtless. Though Lara’s mention of her mother had been sudden, and jarring for that, it was nonetheless, a symbol of the power of art, and, by extension, Jamie’s work.

Lara laughed, and Jamie only smiled in retort, the expression taking on a conspiratorial air, as if they were indeed sharing a secret together. “Don’t worry,” she reassured Lara, lowering her voice a little as if there was some danger of being overheard, though they were quite alone in this part of the museum, at this time of night. “Your secret is safe with me. Though I would like to know where they are, some other time, in case I find myself caught up in another project.”

The two of them headed for the door, and walked in silence for a while. Unlike most people, Jamie felt no need to fill it, being perfectly content to walk without speaking for some time, simply admiring the art on the walls as they passed, and the historical artefacts behind glass. After a short time, Lara, rather expectedly, broke the silence with a question, and Jamie considered it for a moment before responding.

“Occasionally, yes,” she said. “When I worked in London, there was a much more consistent flow of museum-held pieces which needed restoring, given that the collection at the British Museum is much larger than what we have here. I am mostly occupied by my in-house projects, but I do offer my services privately, should anyone require them.” She stated this information in the factual, cool, way in which she often spoke of her former life in England – detached and professional, with only a faked hint of nostalgia, for social purposes. “It is mostly well-to-do people who require restorations for inherited pieces. It’s rare, but still enough to keep me in the manner to which I’m accustomed.”

“I think for the price of keeping my cozy stash a secret from the boss” Lara whispers conspiratorially back to Jamie, the action reminded her of her childhood creeping around Croft manor or the many museums and galleries she grew up visiting with her father “then sharing it is the least that I can do really.” Though Lara couldn’t recall the last time she herself had used her stash on any late night, she tended to work through the night to her next shift, usually crashing on her couch once she eventually made it home. It was just nice to know it was there really.

Lara couldn’t help but smile fondly at the mention of the British Museum, that had been one of her father’s usual work haunts and no matter her own opinion on how the artefacts on display had been gathered. It was no wonder it kept Jamie busy though. “That’s pretty similar to the work I’m doing at this point” Lara admits, nodding her head “I consult remotely on a lot of items, no idea when it became an actual thing that I do but I’m grateful for all the extra discoveries I get to make.” Lara had been wondering lately had she not suddenly gotten the extra load of work would she be quite as content in Echo Springs as she were?

He raised his eyebrows, surprised to find not only the information about the box, but that it interested him. Generally, Kaz was driven by what something could do for him - and usually, that something it could do was make him money. Even if that money was only a means to an end, it certainly didn’t hurt.

But, in this case, he was intrigued purely by the mythology that seemed to be involved with the box. Why had the wealthy man had such a thing in his possession? Kaz had figured maybe it was some sort of weird art piece or something, he hadn’t known it was more complex than that. Probably wouldn’t have stopped him from swiping it, but still. He didn’t believe it, but he wouldn’t object to hearing a story. Besides, all myths tended to hold a kernel of truth; even if that truth was little more than a proper illusion. “I don’t believe in fairytales.” He said with a slight narrowing of his eyes. He didn’t think the box was about to do anything magical - even if, despite all his skepticism, he occasionally had fleeting memories of watching someone conjure light. Just because he could imagine it didn’t make it true. In fact, it probably made it even more of a lie. “Any theories?”

“Neither do I” Lara freely admits “but in this line of business it’s pretty common that an object has some kind of myth or fairy tale behind them.” Whether Lara believed in these myths was one thing, but the fact was that they are important when it comes to doing her job and understanding the artefacts that come through the museum. Instead she actively found these myths interesting more on the level of where they had come from and what they had meant to the people who had used these relics. 

“Indeed,” Jamie agreed, still wearing that same friendly smile. Perhaps it was because she was in the company of another English woman – and they were so rare in Echo Springs – or maybe it was because she had spent a few hours in peaceful quiet, working on the painting, but she found herself not completely averse to Lara’s company. She was surprised that they hadn’t crossed paths before now, but, in a way, that made this late night meeting all the better for how unexpected it was. And Lara was right – Jamie had never doubted her career choice. Though she had been recently plagued by a nagging sense of unfulfillment, she was sure that it didn’t have anything to do with her work.

Jamie nodded politely at Lara’s rather obvious reply. Of course archaeology was messy – that was a given – and other people’s apparently limitless ability to say pointless things astounded her yet again, as it so often did. When Lara’s hand touched the pendant around her neck, however, Jamie’s gaze flickered to it. More could often be deduced from a person’s actions than their words, after all, and she knew immediately that the pendant was important to the other woman. But, rather than ask, she decided to let the subject lie for now. They had hardly been in each other’s company for more than five minutes, after all, and she didn’t want to be accused of prying by a colleague.

There was a brief pause, and then Lara, seeing involuntarily, said that her mother was an artist. Jamie raised her eyebrows, and looked at the other woman in surprise. “Oh?” she asked, gently, wondering why on earth Lara would offer this information in such a blunt way, with no lead-up, or evident reason to. She supposed this would be a time, were one that way inclined, where one might feel awkward or uncomfortable. But instead, she simply followed suit as Lara slipped her documents away, and began gathering her paintbrushes and placing them into the mason jar on her worktop. She laughed too, when Lara did. “Yes, I know what you mean. If it were socially acceptable, I’m quite sure I would sleep here.” And, now the brushes were away, she gave the painting one last, fond, glance, and turned back to Lara. “Shall we?” she said, gesturing to the door with one hand, signalling for Lara to go first.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to just blurt that out” Lara offers sheepishly, smiling her apology at the other woman “the painting just made me think of my mother and her studio, I used to love hanging out in there with her.” In truth just being in the museum in general was always reminding her of both of her parents, her job had very much been inspired by both of them and their chosen professions. Walking through the exhibits and galleries in the museum was reminiscent of growing up in Croft manor, though Lara had spent more time running through the halls and creating her own adventures as she did so.  

Lara couldn’t help but laugh at that, she had ended up falling asleep here at the museum more times than she could count. Though some of those occasions had been due to video conferences being late thanks to different time zones, but she could only use that excuse so much. “Don’t tell the boss but I may or may not keep a blanket and pillow stashed in my office, you know, just in case” She smiles conspiratorially “I can tell you where they are if you’re ever in need.”

They wanted to expand the penguin habitat. The senior zoologists (aquarists? Percy could never get the terms right), the ones who actually had say in what went on here and knew about things like penguin mating habits, said they were due to start a family sooner rather than later, which meant they deserved a bigger, better, all-around fancier place to live. The plot behind the aquarium, abutting the shore, was undeveloped and ripe for expansion, full of old sand dunes and even older rocks.

One of which, it turned out, had some kind of fossil in it, and Percy, as the lucky son of a bitch on shift whose job description included “everything the rest of us don’t feel like dealing with,” got to be the one to call it in to the museum for inspection. It was, he thought, impressively old. He admired its stability, its tenacity, the peaceful quiet in which it had rested for so long. He could only wonder at what it would be like to be that still.

And now it was being disrupted.

Percy stood back as the archaeologist looked it over, trying his best not to hover too much. He didn’t know how successful he was–she was, he had to admit, really pretty, and clearly very good at her job. He liked competence. He liked respect for history. He really liked a competent respect for history. He reflexively stepped back and cleared his throat when she spoke, then pushed the hair out of his eyes and leaned closer to see what she was pointing to. 

“Huh, so it’s like old old,” he said. “Do you want help getting it out, or is that a super specialized secret archaeologist tool kit Indiana Jones kinda thing?”

Lara can’t help but laugh, though another part of her always despaired at the constant likening to Indiana Jones. It was no one’s fault that he was arguably the most notable archaeologist in modern media, but it meant that he therefore shaped peoples minds about who they were and what they did when it reality their jobs were a lot more mundane and considerably less dangerous. She was more at danger of getting a papercut than getting chased down by a giant boulder on the job. And don’t even get her started on the amount of men who had made lewd comments about the whip. “I only managed to stomach one of those movies” She smiles sheepishly, her nose scrunched up “I picked way too many faults and I was only seven.”

It was painfully obvious that the woman didn’t believe him about where he’d found the box, but truthfully, Kaz didn’t care. That was how he operated; people knew Dirtyhands lied, and cheat, and stole. But they didn’t care. Either they were convinced they could outsmart him - and it was rather rare that they managed it - they were too afraid to challenge him, or they didn’t care. As far as he could guess, this was the last of those options. The box was valuable, and for once, he knew that it would be better off somewhere else than in his grasp. How would he even fence an item like that, when he had no idea what it was for. 

He tried to actually recall where he’d really found the box. It hadn’t seemed like anything else was nearby - or at least nothing that had grabbed his attention in the way the box had. “Just that.” He said, nodding to it once again. He glanced at the door, trying to calculate how fast he could get out. In his line of work, you didn’t assume too much - for all he knew, the museum curator could take him down in a fight trying to figure out where he’d really gotten it. “Any idea what the hell it is?”

Lara tries to quell the disappointment at the box being on its own, she might not believe that together the items would summon a God but still she would much prefer that an artefact pairing be together. And that raised the question of if they weren’t together when the box of Ix Chel made it’s way to America from Peru then was the key still there? Or had it too been taken away from it’s original resting place and ended up separated from it’s counterpart? “I won’t lie, that’s makes this a little bit more difficult” Once she was done with this box then Lara would turn her attention to possibly tracking down the missing key, she had enough contacts in the industry now that if it was somewhere out in the world she would probably be able to track it down, eventually.

For all of her extensive knowledge of art restoration, and the current discussions in the field, and various techniques of restoring and conserving pieces, Jamie’s knowledge of the other areas of heritage work were sadly lacking. She had no idea what the procedure of translating a dead language might have been, though she could have taken a well-educated guess, and she meant no offence in suggesting that the project be handed over to someone else. Luckily, the other woman did not take offence, and Jamie smiled warmly. “Well, I hope it doesn’t hide its secrets from you for much longer,” she said.

She nodded understandingly at the response, unsurprised to hear that the other woman had more patience than she’d originally thought. The fact that she was here so late after closing, and the fact that was so eager to translate this artefact’s language herself, told Jamie that without it needing to be confirmed. “Yes, I’ve found that most heritage work requires a great deal of patience,” she said. “The things we are working with, in any capacity, need our time to be restored, or understood.” Here, she nodded a little, and smiled, at the photograph in the other woman’s hands. “Or both, depending on the need,” she added, as an after-thought.

Now they were on first name terms, Jamie at last put down her paintbrush, placing it carefully on the white tile on the table beside her, and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lara. I’m sure you didn’t mean for that to sound as intriguing as it did.” She briefly wondered if it was a euphemism, but doubted it. Lara didn’t seem like the type. At the question, she frowned a little. Lara had interrupted, and she had to be aware of that fact, and yet she had said what she’d said all the same. After a moment, Jamie spoke again. “No, you haven’t interrupted,” she said, lying with a pleasant smile, easily and flawlessly. “Though it is easier to do the finer details when it’s quiet like this, you actually made me realise just how late it is. I should have left hours ago.” She paused, and looked at Lara quizzically. “Will you be staying much later?”

“Well I guess we chose the right careers” Though Lara had never been able to shake the feeling that she had chosen this profession more because of her father, working in this museum surrounded by ancient artefacts reminded her of growing up Croft manor. A building she owned but sat empty, save for vital staff, back home in England. Sometimes she felt a sense of nostalgia while she had first studied and then worked in the field of archaeology rather than an actual passion, but then she spent months working on a single piece and was genuinely elated at the end. To Lara it felt like there was an important piece missing.

She lets out a light laugh, the blonde was right it hadn’t been her intention to say anything particularly intriguing rather had stated the facts as she saw them. “Archaeology can be very messy work” Lara offers simply, with a small shrug “but I’ve been digging in the dirt for as long as I can remember so I’m more than used to getting my hands dirty.” At the mention her hand automatically rises to the jade pendant at her neck, her first archaeological find as a child while with her father on one of his expeditions. She had been in her favourite penguin pyjamas at the time and had been so excited to show Roth, she had worn the pendant everyday since on one of her guardian’s shoelaces. 

The energy brimming off of the archeologist made Kaz sure either he’d come to the right place, and she’d be too distracted by the artifact to overly question him, or that he was screwed. The job had been a hire to sneak documents into the businessman’s home - a smarmy man with hobbies such as going to desolate parts of the world, and coming back with plenty of their valuables. They were scamming one of his business partners, and that had involved tricking him as well. But the box had been sitting right there, out in the open, and he knew it had to be valuable. Hadn’t figured out just how much, but by the time he had, it was too late to sneak back and put it where he’d found it.

It creeped even him out. 

“Thrift store.” He lied. He wasn’t about to tell the museum worker the truth - that he’d lifted it from the businessman’s very bedside table, and suspected that the only reason its missing status wasn’t all over the news was because it had been stolen before Kaz had even gotten his hands on it. 

He didn’t often tell the truth in his line of work. He didn’t often blatantly lie, either - didn’t have to. Implications and tricks, leaving out details, those were his trade. He left the lies to Zenik, her many disguises and wiles plenty to convince someone she was as honest as she was desirable. But this time, he was entirely honest when he said, “I don’t. Just didn’t seem like something I would want to have on my hands.” He said, pushing the box even further away from him, like it was a cage holding an animal that might as soon tear out his eyes. 

Did he really expect her to believe the that he’d just stumbled across this box in a thrift store of all places? It was already boggling her mind that it had somehow made it’s way from Peru to Echo Springs, which wasn’t exactly the hotbed for mystical archaeological finds, there was a big reason most of her work was outsourced to her. But Lara was certain this artefact was one of the most significant that she would ever come across in her lifetime as a professional archaeologist, in truth she was still terrified to even be touching it.

Jamie daubed one final dot of paint onto the canvas, ever so carefully, and turned in her chair to look at the newcomer. Her gaze flickered to the woman’s face, and she recognised her immediately as Ms Lara Croft, the famous archaeologist and curator.  She glanced at the photo in her hands, unable to see it from this distance. Even if she could, she doubted she would have been much help – it wasn’t her field. “How frustrating,” she said, sounding as sincere as she was able. “Have you spoken to any historical document translators yet? Or is it too early? I’m sorry – I’m not too well versed in the process of dating artefacts.” As much as Jamie kept to herself in the restoration room, focusing on her work as it came in, she had an awareness of the other departments within the museum, and their roles. She occasionally nodded at her colleagues if she passed them on her way in or out of the building, but her socialising did not go beyond that.

Lara seemed in awe of her work, and Jamie glanced back at the painting, and smiled in an uncharacteristically fond way. “It’s quite remarkable, actually,” she said, addressing Lara but keeping her gaze on the unrestored sections of the painting. “Time gets away from you very easy when you work so closely with a piece. I wouldn’t even say it requires patience. It’s simply a matter of working on the sections which need the most urgent attention, and then focusing on smaller areas.” She raised her free hand and vaguely gestured to the cracked and raised paint by way of explanation. “I suppose the most important trait one needs is an attention to detail.”

At this, she turned back to Lara, and flashed her a well-practised friendly smile. And after a moment, she added, as an afterthought. “I also must apologise. Have we officially met, or done no more than politely smile at one another as we pass?” She laughed a little at her own joke – though it was a false laugh, entirely for social purposes, it sounded perfectly genuine. “I’m Jamie. I would offer to shake your hand, but I’m afraid I’m rather paint-covered.”

Lara was stubborn to a finite point. The idea of passing off her work, especially work that had already been passed along to her specifically for her expertise, didn’t quite sit right with her. It was all part of solving the mystery for her, the hours of research and analysing that lead to the immense satisfaction at the end when she successfully solved whatever riddle or problem an artefact presents. Sometimes learning the workings of an ancient language was required but she was much happier doing it for herself, than waiting around for someone else to fit it into their workload. She wasn’t exactly the most patient once she started working on something. “I normally manage to handle the translation for myself, but I’ll pass it over if it keeps hiding its secrets from me sure.”

That Lara could understand, she herself had gotten lost in her analysing for hours just now so they had that in common with their work. "I’ve spent many an hour hunched over artefacts with my magnifier and a cleaning brush so when you put it like that I have at least more patience than I first thought” Though she wasn’t always sat in one place doing her work, it meant moving between desks to make notes, or search something up or make a trip to reference something else in the museum’s catalogue. The hours, days and even months dedicated to a single piece to her felt spread out because of the movement but in the grand scheme of things it now felt the same as the wonderful restoration work being done before her. “I do think I’m much better suited to figuring out an items meaning or history, I definitely don’t have the knack for doing for putting things back together.”

𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 → @ofraidingtombs​

There were jobs that went bad. Jobs that got dangerous. Kaz, like any other criminal, had had his fair share of ones that crashed and burned. But he was determined not to get stuck in that situation again - and when Kaz Brekker was determined, very little could get in his way. Which was why he knew he needed to get the item of his hands - the silver box that seemed to stare back at him after he’d lifted it from some wealthy businessman. 

The thing hadn’t looked particularly important, just valuable. But when he’d done some digging and discovered just how many people were looking for the Box of Ixchel - well, he knew the item was too hot to sell on the market. He knew when to cut his losses.

Which was why he came to the Echo Springs Museum in the first place, box wrapped in newspaper within its own cardboard box. He saw someone who he suspected worked there - who wasn’t that insipid restorer - and he set it down. “I’ve found something I believe the museum might have interest in.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Do you think it could be of any value?” He didn’t know how much she’d know of just how valuable the box was - and, this one time, he was more interested in getting the item away from him than how much it was worth. 

Lara had often been asked both by colleagues and her friends from her college days why she had stuck around Echo Springs after graduating, her abilities and experience as an archaeologist meant she could have literally walked into any job that she wanted. What she could never seem to get across is something about the town made her want to stay, it was a feeling she would never be able to put into words so instead Lara had simply stopped arguing the point. The museum here might not be the central hub but her work kept her busy enough, both local and the extra work she consulted on for other people from around the world. She had no complaints about her set up.

As she packed up from her last scheduled tour group of the day, the high pitched squeals of the children still ringing in her ears, she’s only half paying attention as she’s approached. Lara opens her mouth to warn the guest that tours were over for the day and that the museum would be closing shortly but stops short as she catches sight of the man, an eyebrow automatically quirking at the striking appearance. It wasn’t everyday she saw someone stroll in looking like they belonged to the bygone era of the Peaky Blinders. He certainly had her attention now. 

She’s too busy looking down at her wrist and fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt (pulling and twisting as a way to distract herself until she’s settled down) to notice the girl approaching her at first, but then she sees the shoes enter her field of vision and lifts her head to come face to face with the owner. She didn’t think anybody would stop. Maybe pass by and get a chuckle out of the sorry sight she is, but not comfort her. Wide-eyed, she blinks a few times, surprised. Then, she slowly nods her head as confirmation. “Yeah. I’ve… I’ve been working here for years, now. You’d think I’d be used to it. It’s just…” she trailed off, voice soft. “… today was such a bad day. It’s like… I did just about everything wrong. And… I dunno…" Basically: it was an awful. Awful enough for me to cry right here. On the sidewalk.

With gentle fingers Lara brushes away at the light layer of sand on the rock, the action further revealing the hidden object beneath. It was still hard to see exactly what it was, at this point it was only just beginning to be revealed from it’s hiding place of centuries within the rock but it was certain that there was definitely something there. Right now Lara’s assumption was a fossil of some sort, but she wouldn’t know for certain what it was, or which era it hailed from, until she could get a closer look at it. It was a magnificent find, especially considering how hidden it still is from the casual eye. Lara herself would have walked right by it and she was a professional that looked at ancient artefacts and fossils for a living.

Becky’s standing a few meters away from her workplace, having already finished her shift for the day. She’s not walking away, though. Not yet. She’s just fully leaning against the nearest wall, head lowered and hands tightly linked together. If you listen closely enough, you’ll probably hear a few whimpers. Yep. She’s crying. She wants to sob, but she’s trying not to. She’s in the streets, after all! Somebody got more than a few rude clients today. “What? No. These aren’t… these aren’t tears-” she said, reaching up to wipe at them with the palm of her hand. “This… this is water. Yep. From… from the rain…” There’s no rain. It’s very sunny. Okay, she just went for the worst excuse. She sighed, then sniffled. “I just… I don’t get why people are so mean.”

CLOSED STARTER FOR @ofraidingtombs​.

The museum had closed hours ago, but Jamie had not packed away her things yet. She had a white tile with small daubs of various shades of green and brown paint scattered across it. With painstaking care, she leaned in close to the painting and inpainted the small gaps where the historic paint had peeled away. The green and brown shades had been colour matched as close as possible to the original paint of the portrait, and would fool the naked away from a short distance away that they were identical. Millimetre by millimetre, Jamie filled in the areas where the paint had flaked away, careful not to cover any of the historical layer which remained.

She heard the uncertain footsteps of someone approaching, and reasoned that it was another member of staff staying well after their shift had ended. Leaning back from the painting in order to speak without endangering it with her spit or breath, she said, “It’s good to know I’m not the only person willing to stay beyond my contracted hours. What’s kept you here?” Though she was addressing whoever had entered the room, she did not turn around, but rather, kept her gaze on the piece, eyeing her own work critically.

Lara’s favourite work to do had always been the jobs that really required her to use her brain, the unusual artefacts with the trickiest puzzles that once she put her mind to she got the biggest sense of satisfaction. Lara had gotten herself a bit of a reputation in the archaeology discipline for her skills at solving the particularly difficult puzzles and codes, so much so that she was often asked to consult on items found by other archaeologists and museums from all over the world. However with her most recent of these consults Lara had hit a wall, the lack of breakthroughs was extremely frustrating her but the idea of giving up was truly a foreign concept to her. If there was one thing that Lara struggled with, it was unsolved mysteries. 

By the time Lara looks up from the scribbled notes on the pages spread around her desk the clock on her wall shows that it’s past closing time, she had been so absorbed in deciphering the symbols that literal hours had passed by. A common practice for the brunette. With a tired sigh Lara collects up all the notes and clumsily shoves them into her backpack, keeping out a handful for her to flick through during her journey back home. She has to squint at the already grainy photocopies (it was 2021, surely these archaeologists had access to better camera equipment?) in the dark lighting as she works her way through the museum towards the exit.

meme → all the little things meme still accepting → queries

🔪 - Have they ever killed someone?

canon - Yes

echo - No. But she has killed various animals hunting with Roth while she was learning survival skills

👶 - As a kid, what were they like?

Already answered here xoxo

💕 - Parents

Father: Lord Richard Croft, archaeologist †

Mother: Lady Amelia Croft (née de Mornay), painter †