#muddledmenagerie

  “Yes, perhaps so. Although…I suspect you wouldn’t be happy with that, somehow.”

There was no ‘next world’ in his mind, but Tobias had spent many years respecting the beliefs of others in that regard. He wasn’t about to argue the toss with someone about an afterlife, especially when he was already pretty certain that Mycroft didn’t believe in one either. He was just musing out loud.

Tobias smiled slightly, propping one leg over the other so he could lace his fingers together around his knee. His voice was naturally light, the comforting softness proving very useful in regards to dealing with clients. Now it had the faintest hint of playfulness about it as he spoke again, always eager to make light of such a dark subject in casual conversation.

To handle it any other way tended to put people on edge, besides being unnecessary.

  “You’ll get your turn, Lord Holmes, as we all will. But you’ll get there faster if you don’t take a little time for yourself in this world. Just a smidge, now and again.”

Mycroft could not help the sly smile on his face at the response he received. The other was right, of course. As nice as the concept of some rest sounded like for a day or two, he knew that he would be driven mad by the boredom that came with having nothing to do. That, and if it turned out that there was a next life, he would likely be too busy being disgruntled about the fact he had been wrong about there not being one to be able to relax and enjoy it.

It was also true that he worked himself too hard. Would that stop, though? Certainly not. Mycroft’s work was his life. Would some personal happiness be nice too? Perhaps, but after so long without it, Mycroft didn’t find himself experiencing the urge to chase it once again.

“Speaking of, I think we both know that I am not here for the sake of life advice,” Mycroft said, changing the subject to bring it around to business. He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a few sheets of paper which were promptly handed over to the other man.

“I will be frank with you, Mr Bellamy, I am here to requisition a body that I know to be under your care. You’ll find here the relevant documents for the demand.” The body in question belonged to an MI5 agent that had died recently. Unfortunately, while it was true that dead men told no tales, the same could not be said for little pieces of information storing technology that remained in their bodies after death - pieces that could not be allowed to become public knowledge. 

@muddledmenagerie​​ inncorrect quotes part 2

Blood gushed from opened vein while fingers curled against the lapels of his coat. What warmth she managed to pull from him came from his clothing and not himself. The chill of an autumnal winds bit at her flesh, causing gooseflesh to conquer her being. A shiver fell upon her, rippling down her spin as she pressed her lithe form closer against him. Hips brushed against hips as head lulled against his own. The peach scent of her shampoo wafted through the air as her blood stained paling flesh, streams racing towards her chest to stain the white of her nightgown. 

Giving herself to the whims of her emotions had never supposed a problem with her. If anything—Hell loved when a spur of passion brought out the absolute worst in a creature like Reevah. The wildfire of her rage, the endless possibilities in her boredom. The poisoned blade of her ecstasy and how it always found a way to raze with innocents and sinners alike. And… yes, maybe the intensity of her own sentiments could easily burn, scratch and tear her insides from time to time, but the demon had never faced a situation that couldn’t be solved with a little bit of that indulgence that escapists know so well. Neon lights and desperation in the air. The sting of rum running through her veins and whatever she could find in the arms of a stranger, whether it was an excuse to forget or destroy. 

So, no—emotions didn’t suppose a problem with her. And that would have remained like it if it hadn’t been for one particular night and the unexpected events that were going to change more than one thing in her case.

In her mind. God, in her heart. 

Reevah runs through the buzzing streets of a city that refused to sleep. The ache in her legs bolts with every new stride that she gives and the passerby all around can’t help but notice the frozen despair that she leaves at her wake. The void silence that indicates trouble, misery. The worst news that you could always receive although you didn’t want to. And while maybe—just maybe, there had been better alternatives than going by foot, options that even include wings or stolen cars, Reevah didn’t find it in her to consider anything other than shut her mind and follow the desperate need to move there. To run three cities, four if needed; whatever it took to get there and see with her own eyes that this was no lie. No trick, no game that she could love or hate. That she could ignore or deny. This—this was something that had awoken refused experiences in her. That had no name but the form of crushed lungs and tears in her eyes and a tremble all around her body.

It had the form of hesitance and her hand refusing to obey her once she reached his door. Of the need to pray and hope for miracles, and believe in a God that could have the slightest bit of mercy. Of fear, yeah—that’s right, her fear. The one she met for the very first time through his call and now invaded her in its entirety when she opened the door and found the abundance of wounds over his body. Over the one angel that could make her chase the impossible for one smile and forget about Hell and Heaven alike. 

The Carnahan family were well known to the royals, not personally as of yet mind, the discoveries of the patriarch in Egypt had naturally caught the attention of both Albert’s grandfather and father as the crown passed on. Albert held a continuous curiosity about the ancient world and its people but just as his chance to visit Egypt again on his second trip around the world with the Navy, war broke out and he like so many others his age ended up in terrible conflicts.

When the war finished, it took a little extra time for Albert to return home from France but when he arrived, he heard news that Jonathan Carnahan was preparing to leave for Egypt again and the Duke was quick to track him down. He had latched onto the idea of adventure and wonders to be found of lost civilisations on another continent but really had not considered what exactly he was to say to his fellow soldier.

      “—it seems awfully underhand, that’s all.”

Hastings rustles the newspaper once, and turns his attention back to its pages. There’s a slight crease between his brows, indicative of a measure of unease about the whole affair.

plotted starter for @muddledmenagerie​ - Tobias

Tessa walked in the funeral home and observed the scene. The grieving widow was sat with her family surrounding her, whispering platitudes. A small groups of mourners stood huddled together, speaking softly and looking grim. Among one of those groups was Tessa’s target. This was the first time he had left his home in months and this was the only time Tessa had the opportunity to get what she wanted from him. Was it right to steal from a mourner at a funeral? Probably not, but least she wasn’t trying to steal from the corpse.

Tessa carefully hugged the outer perimeter of the waiting room, offering a small smile to anyone who dared to look her way. She positioned herself behind her target with her back to the wall. Now wasn’t the time to strike. Now was the time to monitor him and make sure he had her artefact on his person. 

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