“I'd gladly wait here with you. Well, not gladly per say givein the circumstances but...well, Im sure a man of your intellect understands my meaning.” That was certainly an answer that Professor Dupree didn't mind.

"I'd like to think so. In the future, you might want to consider the term 'willingly', if you worry about being misunderstood?" Even the guilt from being able to return to everyday concerns was starting to wash out from his mind like blood from cotton: a permanent stain left behind, but no longer on the surface of the garment.

The police, it seemed, were not far away from the scene. Perhaps one of the spectators to the gruesome scene had called them after all, or perhaps there had been an officer close at hand. Jeremiah supposed it didn't matter, really, except that it did. Today would surely end up on the wall, but now it was a question of how much of today would. The officer's introduction was standard, and Professor Dupree was ready to assume the responsibility for the scene, until the officer recognized August.

Well. Today just kept getting more and more bizarre.

Jeremiah fancied himself many things - an intellectual, a brilliant man, an observant scientist. As Officer Lexington and August exchanged words, he couldn't help but feel that there was something going on between them - not a secret, no, Jeremiah was far too familiar with that sort of language to know what they shared was not particularly secret. It felt more like a private joke, and yet, the words were laced with arsenic to bring any shared laughter, private or public. The moment of guilt Jeremiah spied from August only furthered that notion. He merely shrugged his shoulders in response. The comment was a little disturbingly off the cuff, but it made sense in his mind August was so willing to shrug off the death. He hadn't had the dubious honor of witnessing Dr. Atkin's final moments, he was never a colleague of his (one reason Professor Dupree would hold no ill will to Dr. Steiner for the abrupt departure, as he clearly knew the man better than Professor Dupree had), and he had a niece to redirect his worry towards. Now, if it came up again while searching for his niece, then Jeremiah would allow himself the worry that this man might very well be mentally deranged.

"Regarding who's in charge, I suppose I should ask in what sense. I am a colleague of the victim, and was first on the ...incident scene?" Jeremiah tried to avoid police ever since he was young - the words used for addressing them eluded him. "Your friend August came afterwards, but has done his best to help preserve the scene." Why Officer Lexington needed to know who was 'in charge' also eluded him, but he still needed to say his piece at least.

Well you have not changed one bit since France. Barry tucked his badge back into his pocket as he approached August and the older man standing beside the body. August Dupin, a face he hadn't seen for long. Far too long, yet not long enough it felt like.

"And you still insist on wearing that damned fedora. Well I guess at least one of us enjoys change. But you could say that, killing Krauts and serving Uncle Sam really impressed the top brass, so I was promoted after we came back. Looks like you took your own path, yet we wear the same coat."

Barry smiled and chuckled, but his thoughts were rapidly shifted back to the matter at hand. Sure it would be fun to go chatting with August about the good ol'days, even if he's a idealistic idiot, but there was still the issue of the body lying dead on the red snow.

"Yeah yeah, your sisters daughter Mary being lucky you..." Those words he nearly didn't register, he didn't even remember having talked about his sister or niece or anything like that, but he wasn't about to admit that. And frankly, he didn't care.

"Professor Dupree, that's good enough for me right now. I only need someone of the university's authority to allow us to set up a perimeter, keep the students and other bystanders away while we do our job. Seen as August already has done some of that work for us, we'll get right to the chase. Then I would like to question you first; as you said, you were the first at the scene, and our prime witness. Is there anyway we could take those questions, in private?" That last question came out as if directed towards August. The last thing Barry needed as an up and coming inspector, was having an PI meddling with his business. "And he worked here, at the university? Then I'll need to see his office, wouldn't want to leave any rocks unturned?"



"Then let's not waste any more time out here, the last thing I want is the police to snoop around Dr. Atkins' office before us...And if you dare tell them, consider yourself expelled, Herr Günther."

Arthur gave one last look at the woman sneaking about, then let his gaze fall on the trio having a conversation around Dr. Atkins' body, before nodding to Emil and making his way into Miskatonic Universty itself. The woman was of little interest to him, she was probably just trying to sneak into one of the male sections to continue her romance with a student. Kids these days, an university is not a place for romance, at least not for people...

The corridors were one of the many unique architectular features of this sight; long, wide and tall, always walking past a door leading into one of the countless lecturing halls, reading rooms and offices that made the university so great. They used to be filled with students and teachers alike, not a day ago it had felt lively and energetic. Now it felt cold, lifeless and uncomfortably weary. Arthur felt as if he was being watched as he passed every single door on the way down the corridor, as if Atkins knew where he was going and what he was doing.

Click. The door unlocked and opened with ease, it was a known secret that most locks at the universty all could be opened with one key, it was cheaper that way. Arthur let Emil go in first while he looked behind them, making sure noone was following them. Quiet...it's never been this quiet here... He quickly shut the door behind them and locked it again.

Dr. Atkins' office was a mess, worse than usual; He was by no means a tidy person, very few here bothered with order here except people such as Dr. Henry Armitage, another strange expert in the building, but Arthur knew that this mess was more than usual.

"I don't know exactly what we're looking for, Herr Günther, but something in here must tell us why he leaped of the tower. Go look at his desk, I'll check his cabinets."

[center]Physical State: Highly Alert.
Mental State: Worried for Dupree.

"Professor Dupree, that's good enough for me right now. I only need someone of the university's authority to allow us to set up a perimeter, keep the students and other bystanders away while we do our job. Seen as August already has done some of that work for us, we'll get right to the chase. Then I would like to question you first; as you said, you were the first at the scene, and our prime witness. Is there anyway we could take those questions, in private?" That last question came out as if directed towards August. The last thing Barry needed as an up and coming inspector, was having an PI meddling with his business. "And he worked here, at the university? Then I'll need to see his office, wouldn't want to leave any rocks unturned?"

This was just Augusts' sort of luck. He'd only just now found his first solid lead in the form of Professor Dupree and already good old Barry was wanting to drag the poor old man into something akin to a dark alleyway and no doubt coerce whatever information he was after out of him. August was willing to bet it would not be a very pleasant experience for the less than healthy looking Dupree.

In truth though August couldn't really imagine just what Barry wanted to ask Dupree-was there anything about this scene that made Barry think it wasn't just a normal suicide like August had assumed? Although bold and prone to violence August knew Barry was not entirely a stupid man; a fact that made him wonder if his old compatriot had some other knowledge, likely police gained, that made him second guess if this truly was suicide.

Regardless August quickly found himself feeling the need to intervene on Duprees behalf due to a mix between his annoyingly straight moral compass and the urge to protect his own investigations lead, all of which made August quick to speak up. The poor professor had no idea just how much potential danger he was in.

Augusts seemingly constant slow and rhythmic deep voice remained unchanged as he interjected before Dupree had a moment to agree to privacy. “Well Barry, if you don't mind I'll just tag along. I was actually just speaking with Dupree here before you arrived and he was offering to help me look into my missing niece after this whole unfortunate business was wrapped up. Seeing as the case looks pretty clear cut I wouldn't mind tagging along to Atkins office-I'll even help you look around, afterall four eyes are better then two, eh? Be like the old days.” He paused a moment and took a drag off his now dying cigarette. “Hell, you could even question the Professor here along the way-you know, two krauts with one grenade so to speak.”

Locking eyes with Barry August had to admit he felt a bit ashamed to play the “old days” card but these were desperate times-at this point he'd almost do anything to make the damned nightmares stop. In all honesty though he fully intended to tell good ol Barry when the moment was right just why he was in town-nightmares and all. Here infront of Dupree and a dead body was not that time though-he did however do his best to give Barry a look that showed he yearned to talk later.

Too curious. Emil couldn't help taking a glance at this professor as he went through what he couldn't call anything but desk trash of the late Atkins. Too secretive. Papers, bills, notes, envelopes, coffee stains holding together parchments of planned lectures, pieces of old pens and new pens still whole, clips, a rusty coin or two falling out of the drawer and ringing on the floor. He's not telling me everything. Emil picked up the coin that lay at his shoe, returned it into the drawer. Atkins's documents and desk smelled of old library shelves used only seldom, and of damp cold tomes that they hold. g = 9.81 m/s^2 He pulled out the second drawer and realized the knob he grabbed broke and remained in his hand. Took a few seconds. Burst. Knobhead. He put it on the table and started going through the contents of the desk. He felt as if he had opened the first drawer again, and wondered if Dr Steiner had a more divergent pile of rubbish to examine. What a boring office: heaps of nothing everywhere, everything containing nothing.

He picked detached knob and shot it across the room like a marble. Thunnng. It hit the metal tray on the small cupboard near the window. A bird fluttered and flew away and he saw it through the dirty window. Hollow bones. Unlike ours. They propel themselves high. Not even wax ones for Atkins. Emil returned to the desk and slammed the open drawer shut, but the broken thing didn't hold and it fell on the floor and the bottom of it splintered. Underneath it, in a secret double bottom, something pale showed itself.

”Professor,” he said kneeling down, and ”I've got something,” getting up.

He shook the envelope to dust it off and blew on it to finish the job. It had no mark and no address was written on it -- a simple beige envelope, from a grocery store. But it bore a set of initials written large in purple cursive -- F. D. -- preceded by a preposition to, in black.

"I'll even help you look around, afterall four eyes are better then two, eh? Be like the old days.” He paused a moment and took a drag off his now dying cigarette. “Hell, you could even question the Professor here along the way-you know, two krauts with one grenade so to speak.”

"Like the old days..." Barry let those words float through his mind for the few moments, tasting its meaning in his mouth. Dirt, blood, perhaps a smell of German sauerkraut fresh in the pot...It had been years since he came back from the War, but August's words put him right back there, standing beside Augus fighting for their lives. It brough a smile to his face "You know what, that's not such a bad idea, buddy. You're still sharp as ever, perhaps why we still talk about you down at the station. Dr. Dupree, lead the way!" Barry said with a cheerful tone, reaching out his hand and gesturing Dr. Dupree to take the lead. It was then that Barry saw the look in August's eyes; they needed to talk later. Barry froze for a second, before breaking free from the moment and finding himself walking beside Dr. Dupree.

He pulled out a small notepad and a pen, and began writing the date, place and possible victim. Thursday, January 19th, '25. Miskatonic University. Victim; Doctor/professor...

"So Dr. Dupree, I have to ask about the victim. He was a teacher here, a colleague? Does he have a name? Did he show any signs of depression? Anger? Madness? Was he in danger of being sacked, any reason at all for him to have jumped off that tower?" Barry asked Dr. Dupree in a calm voice, systematically asking the next question in a reasonable pace, ready to write down anything that his witness said. They had walked through a corridor, presumably leading down towards the teacher's offices and quarters, Barry had been there before, but in a completely different case. In the distance he could make out Dr. Howard Atkins. Department of Ancient Cults & Practices.

"...Or more puzzling, even to me; how is it that he made it up on top of the monument? To my knowledge, the only way to get up there is to climb up using a ladder from the upper parts of the tower, but when I saw it just a few moments ago, the snow lying there had not been disturbed, and no ladders on the outside either."



Arthur had found only little of interest, but nothing solid. The only thing he'd think of looking at was a file labelled "My strange days in Belgian Kongo", but before he could look properly at them, Emil caught his attention. "What did you find?"

It was an envelope, an awfully ordinary envelope, but not the kind that Howard Atkins normally used to send letters. Arthur refrained from taking the letter, rather letting Emil hold it while he himself simple looked at it. "To F.D..." Arthur's face went blank, utter emptiness as his mind raced back and forth after information. F.D...who could that be? Is it even a person? He looked up at Emil once last time, before gently pulling the letter out of his hands, and opening it. Arthur's eyes raced up and down the letter as he quickly read it. His empty look turned into a look of confusion, looking at Emil again and then back at the letter.

"Dear F. D.

As you yourself wrote, I do not know you. I have no recollection of having ever met, spoken or seen you in all my life, which is why I am writing this letter as a matter of fact. Your claims of having met me at a young age is absurd, as a person of your personality would certainly caught me attention and stuck in my mind.

What intrigues me is your presice, too presice descriptions of events in my life that you in no other way could know. How do you know me? When did you last see me? How do you know of Sealed Tomb of the Great Azatoth? And why are you warning me of my imminent death?

I need answers, F. D. Meet me in my office at Miskatonic University, Saturday 22th of this month.

Yours sincerly,
Dr. Howard Atkins.

Ps. To those reading this letter, make sure that whoever wrote that letter to me, never gets out of Arkham Sanaterium. How in God's name did this letter even get out of there and into my hands?"

Arthur was puzzled to say the least. He would have begun rambling about those maniacs that littered the world these days, when he heard voices coming from the other side of the office door. "Damn, they were faster than I expected. Quick, Herr Günther, we must hide."

March-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting, wandering spirits... Emil immediately envisioned an unspecified number of dark silhouettes of unspecific faces and build approaching them from the other side of the wall. ”That letter is really heavy; and with all due respect, sir, I don't think either of us is petit enough to fit into one of those cabinets,” he said, nodding to the junk-filled shelves. It might have been his practical German upbringing that drove him to his next action, although the fear in face of the unknown creeping towards the office had probably been the force that did it. He grabbed the thick edge of Atkins's desk, kicked the broken drawer aside to clear the way, and pushed the massive thing right against the door, which, fortunately, was not too far away. His daily exercise routine paid off. Door handle. Blocked. Cut-off arm. Sensitive to noise. Fly.

”Through the window, professor?” He tried opening the thing through which he had seen the bird fly all while praying the situation would save him from getting expelled for vandalizing the property of the university, but it wouldn't move an inch. Corroded. He saw a balcony to the left that could be reached with a risky manoeuvre, but descending down somehow using the ledges seemed a much better option because the office was not too high and piles of snow down bellow would offer at least some cushion. He pushed the window once more, but still nothing happened. He put his right hand into the pocket. GOTT MIT UNS said the inscription on Emil's black pocketknife, a gift he had received during the summer and which he now fingered in his pocket, unwilling to take it, a weapon, out in front of a teacher, as if some invisible hand clutched his own.

Something slammed on the door. Fuck it... he took the blade out and jammed it between the lower sash and the frame, trying to work the window open as the door handle behind him rattled and beat violently against the desk surface that blocked it.

Ah, that was what the officer had wanted: university permission. Professor Dupree almost fancied for a moment he'd be giving a quick statement, offer control of the scene, and that would be the end of his involvement in the affair. It wouldn't happen, he knew. But he fancied it.

"You certainly have my permission on behalf of Miskatonic University to erect a perimeter. It's been difficult keeping the curious at bay long enough for you to get here, much less for actual investigation of the scene." Was it a good thing or not that August had not mentioned the disappearing watchers yet?

So, questions... in private? Was that standard procedure? Professor Dupree couldn't be certain, but something about it made him wish he'd found some excuse to leave with Dr. Steiner. Still not a fan of the police. Being alone felt worse. It was almost a relief that August chose to intervene. Almost was the key word: he was sure of it now, that the two shared something that Dupree would want no part of, were he anyone else. As a scientist, he'd of course prod when it was convenient and unlikely to cause him harm. That time was not now, not with both of them speaking with razors, lest the blades be spit at him. He tried not to be foolish. Didn't always succeed.

"Yes, that sounds agreeable to me as well. I believe Dr. Atkins worked in that building over there." He gestured to the stone monument, hardly far from the scene. Certainly time enough that Lexington could make his inquiries. He led the way, the blood drying on his briefcase and flecking off in pieces as he bumped his leg against it. Bits clung to the fabric of his pants, still damp on the inner side. The two men, each investigating their own mysteries, were at his side. Lexington had begun his questioning, and Professor Dupree did his best to recall the scattered information about the man.

"His name was Howard Atkins. He was a professor, yes, though I knew more of him than I knew him. While we both studied ancient culture, his work focused on... the unpopular religions, shall we say? I prefer to study the larger civilizations that formed the one of present day, as well as those that diverged so I may discover why." He was getting off-topic. "Dr. Steiner was the one who was able to identify him once he... reached the ground. They were friends. He may be able to tell you more about the man, when you visit his office. As for myself, however, I had not heard of any news of professors to be fired - it's difficult to do so once the semester has started, after all. If there was some personal tragedy or affliction torturing his mind before today, it never made newspapers, nor did anyone on the staff discuss it casually." That much was true. His odd subject matter aside, it wasn't as if he'd been mocked for having a suffragette wife or offered condolences for a lost sibling. Professor Dupree, for his part, was a conscientious reader of the newspaper. That was occasionally a subject of jokes.

Then Lexington asked a very odd question.

"...Or more puzzling, even to me; how is it that he made it up on top of the monument? To my knowledge, the only way to get up there is to climb up using a ladder from the upper parts of the tower, but when I saw it just a few moments ago, the snow lying there had not been disturbed, and no ladders on the outside either."

Professor Dupree was ready to wave off the question with the very simple point that the man had not been thrown or set down, and simply rolled over to his demise. Professor Dupree knew what he had seen and heard - the man had, by all appearances, chosen to jump off of his own accord. Yet...

"I...cannot say for sure. August, did you see a ladder? I was rather distracted. What I do know for sure was that the man was conscious and alert, if not deranged, while he was on top of that tower, and he was making no effort to safely climb down its side." It... was a suicide. He was sure. But that was rather odd, wasn't it?

They finally reached the office with the man's name, copied onto a plaque to the side. The frosted glass made it impossible to see within. Professor Dupree grabbed the handle, turned it, and pushed.

The door did not open. Instead, he heard a light thudding sound.

He tried again. The door refused to yield.

He pushes again, though he knew he was hardly the one to turn to when something jammed or stuck. Physical strength was something he lacked. He finally turned back towards August and Lexington.

"The door is unlocked, but I'm having a devil of a time opening it. Could one of you two try?"

Physical State: Adrenaline burst.
Mental State: Very nervouse for unknown reasons.

August intently listened to the line of questioning Barry put Dupree through as the trio made their way throughout the campus. Along the way he was sure to make a mental list that he was rather sure somewhat mirrored whatever good old Barry was writing in his cute little notepad. Yet again August was impressed by the Professor and had to admit that the older Dupree was holding himself together surprisingly well given his present company. So far he had answered almost all of Barry's questions in a clear and cooperative manner-exactly the type of things most cops liked. In Augusts mind Dupree hadn't said anything so far to make him seriously rethink his opinion that this was nothing more than a suicide. But then there was that last question Barry asked...

"...Or more puzzling, even to me; how is it that he made it up on top of the monument? To my knowledge, the only way to get up there is to climb up using a ladder from the upper parts of the tower, but when I saw it just a few moments ago, the snow lying there had not been disturbed, and no ladders on the outside either."

August himself couldn't deny the logic behind Barrys question. New to the City of Arkham Augsust himself had little knowledge of specifics when it came to local landmarks such as this-the kind of crucial little details that allowed one to ask the real questions. Questions like Barry had just asked.

Questions without answers.

"I...cannot say for sure. August, did you see a ladder? I was rather distracted. What I do know for sure was that the man was conscious and alert, if not deranged, while he was on top of that tower, and he was making no effort to safely climb down its side."

August answered while keeping in step with the group. “As I stated earlier, I never actually saw the late Dr. Atkins jump-the commotion merely caught my attention while I was passing through. That being said though I still would agree with the Professor here, I arrived just after the fact and...well, it all looked pretty open and shut. I was unaware that there was no access to where he jumped from though...that is, well...odd. And now that you mention it no, I didn't see any sort of ladder or even tracks leading up to the tower. And I can say that for a fact.” He shot Barry a look that only lasted a brief second-the type unspoken glance from back in the day that said something wasn't right. Suddenly he felt like he could hear the whistling in the air preluding the explosive death of an enemy mortar.

He pushed the feeling down and tried to blink the distant look on his face away.

“Ill be honest though, I don't see what you expect to find in his office. But then again...well, we both know I'd be just as thourough.” August finished with his answer as the trio made their way to the door that lead into the late Dr. Atkins office. August quickly made a mental note of the title on the door that read-“Dr. Howard Atkins. Department of Ancient Cults & Practices.”-words that made Augusts' massive frame tighten involuntarily. Having been raised Catholic he couldn't help but associate frightening things with words like occult and ancient practices. In his mind these words and the things they stood for were better left forgotten and unspoken.

As if to completely make August eat his last words Dupree piped up “The door is unlocked, but I'm having a devil of a time opening it. Could one of you two try?” the Professor asked to no one in particular-August thought Dupree himself was somewhat perplexed by the situation.

“Quickly, stand aside Proffesor.” August quickly found himself bellowing in a hushed whisper. Without thinking he gently guided Dupree out of the way with one of his bear like arms and pressed himself up against the supposedly unopenable door. Clutching the doorknob with his massive left hand August was shocked to see his right hand holding the deadly black automatic Colt .45 he always carried with him. Apparently he had drawn his firearm on pure instinct.

He noticed Barry had done the same and decieded to keep his hand cannon out. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use it.

Giving Barry a brief nod as if to confirm some pre discussed plan August threw all his weight into the door with a struggled grunt: the result was a rather impressive display of physical strength as the old wooden desk that had been bracing the door from the other side literally flipped through the air in an explosion of noise. Somewhere over his shoulder he heard Barry shouting “Police!” as they made their way into the chaotic office space. The newly upturned desk combined with a recently opened window that lead to the windy air outside had turned what August assumed was an already messy office space into a proverbial pig stye.

Seeing the room was empty of people August rushed over to the only open window and stuck his head into the now howling winds outside-even if it hadn't been icy out the few escape routes he could see were far to small for his massive frame to easily manage. He decided it was more than likely if he tried any sort of pursuit he would fall to the snowy ground below-and he was well aware Barry would never let him live that down.

Turning back to Barry and Dupree August let his .45 slide snugly back into the leather holster beneath his left armpit as he surveyed the mess that was now Dr. Atkins office.

As an ex cop August was well aware that things had just become far more complicated.

"...Remind me to give an A on your next assignement, Herr Günther..." Arthur said out between his heavy breaths, having done something he though he'd never do again in his entire life; climbing. Those intense minutes before their escape had really sharpened Arthur's senses, to an extent that he turned his head towards any kind of moment, even figures that could only have been his imagination, those black figures that always lurked in the corner of one's eyes. These though didn't dissappeare as soon as you saw them, these remained for a second and stared back at you, before vanishing with a blink.

Their escape had been a narrow one indeed; Emil had barely managed to open the stuck window when the second loud banging on the door began, and then they were outside. Emil had climbed down first, quickly followed by Arthur just as the door burst open and they could hear someone shout "Police!". The soft snow underneath did it's job to easen the last bit of fall, even though Arthur's old body still felt the impact. He cursed under his breath, trying to keep quiet until the coast was clean.

A few second later the figure that had stared out of the window and proved to be August, Private Snoop and Marxist, disappeared and left the two men alone outside in the snow. "Seems that I should head to my office, before their find it suspicious not to find me there. You should head to your room, Herr Günther, and think about all of this. We've done enough for now, but we need to get back into Atkins' office, preferably without them snooping around. Quick, before we're seen together."

Arthur got back onto his feet, wiped the snow of his clothes and quickly jogged (another thing he hadn't done for years) back around the building and eventually to his office. The letter was still in his pocket, and he took it out as he sat down at his desk, lighting a pipe and reading the content again. "F.D. ... Arkham Sanitarium...Maybe I should attend one of the Psychology's field-trips to the mad-house after all?"



"Police!"

The room was as empty as negro's pocket, and just as much a mess as their hair. Whoever had been here, had left by now, seen as August came back without anything to say from the window. The look that Barry saw August have as he scanned the room said it all; this had just become far more complicated. "Shit, thing are never as simple as they seem, are they? Take a look around; if someone took the time to check through this mess, it must mean that there is something of importance here. I'll take that permission of yours, Dr. Dupree, if you don't mind."

But what the hell was he supposed to look for? Papers? Shit, this institution didn't contain anything BUT papers! Books? Ever more books than papers. Clues? Well what kind of clues does a alleged suicide-victim - if it even was a suicide - leave behind? These thoughts bothered Barry heavily, until he stumbled upon something. At first it was just, well more paper and shit like everything fucking else in that office, but Barry's gut told him that this had been dropped just recently. By the intruders maybe?

"Well what is this? My strange days in Belgian Kongo...How long is it since Dr. Atkin's was in Africa, Dr. Dupree?"

...?...

There hadn't been much time. The two men had exited through the window just before they came into the room. They looked for It, It that belonged to them, something that would help them more than anything else in the universe. But they couldn't find It, this room was too full of all these papers and books, and they had too little time.

They left the same way as they came in, somewhere they couldn't be seen or caught, at least not fully comprehencible.

Then the door was kicked in and two more men entered. It would seem that more than just a professor and a young student was looking for It as well. Too bad they would all die in the process. Everyone who didn't worship It or Him would perish in a blaze of the apocolyptic return of the Great One; The Deep One, The Master, Him.

They would all submit or die.

Johan Myers

Johan was looking around the school grounds wondering and worrying about what had happened, He was trying to find Professor Masterson whom he had been told that had had been their and saw what had happened. He was worrying that one of the ghostly figures had came and caused this mess.

Walking down the hallway his hands folds near his crouch twiddling his fingers as he walked into Professor Masterson's office having to wait out in front of his door because the secretary told him to wait. "Okay....." He said softly thinking of the many thoughts that was racing inside of his shy head.

He could not stop thinking of the disappearance of students and teachers, Could it be the creatures that he has been seeing for most of his life. Most of them that he has seen never interacting with them expect for once when he was seven years old talking to one of these creatures befriending it but of course did not tell anyone since he did not want to be sent to the asylum.

"My per- ah, yes. You have it for here as well." Professor Dupree looked at the desk that had been lodged against the door - he was no fool, this had clearly been no accident. Perhaps while everyone had been watching the man jump to his end, or waiting for the authorities to show up? Of course, none of this explained why someone would do this.

"I'm rather sorry, I can't say for sure. I'd guess perhaps a few years since he'd visited Africa? Again, Dr. Steiner knew him better than I had. He might also know why someone took it upon themselves to search this office and what, if anything, is missing." Now there was the true problem. Professor Dupree honestly couldn't tell if anything had been stolen - everything was out of order and in chaos. No gaps, because it was all upside-down and sideways and every which way.

"I'm rather sorry, Officer Lexington, but I honestly doubt I have any further information I can share about this man. I knew him best at the end of his life, and not particularly well before. I have contributed what I can, and I doubt I can contribute much more without ending up underfoot."

Scared, Emil thought it best not to head to his room, or anywhere near it. Police! It still rang through his ears. To one watching him, he must have looked like a paranoid drunk looking over his shoulder every five seconds and unable to hold his head still as he made his way through piles of thick snow. Police! When he reached the trail leading through the yard of the university grounds and eventually the street, his legs were soaking went, and he was freezing. Hypotermia. A million needles piercing me. Like when we hiked in Telemark that year. She fell into it. Lucky not to have her lungs inflamed. Suddenly the police badges invaded his thoughts and sirens and bars, too. He hurried.

A block away warmth and delicious smell suddenly hugged him. Turning to his right, he saw he was in front of a pub. Sean. He entered and Sean was inside indeed, by some coincidence. Emil recognized him, or his back, sitting at the bar, while the rest of the place was almost completely vacant, with maybe a quarter of the chairs taken by either scoundrels or those who'd avoid going home by all means until late at night.

”Am I lucky to see you,” Emil said, sitting on the stool next to Sean's and asking for a beer, an order to which the bartender reacted with a squint. And Irishman and a German.
”Where the fuck have you been...?” Sean asked, his glass pausing just in front of his lips, he looking at Emil's pants and shoes, gesturing at them with his hands. ”Have you pissed yourself?”
Beer. Looks like it when you're sick. ”Funny,” Emil said. ”But not. Long story. I just need to warm me. Myself, I mean.” Mich.
”You're a weird fucking sort, man, you know,” Sean said and took a sip.
”Tell me that when I all this shit happens in a second in one of our universities. It's unnatural.”
”I'm feeling ya. I can't get that bloke's head out of my mind.”
Pretend. ”Did the police say anything?”
”Fuck if I know. I'm staying away, I've had enough.”

The bartender put the foaming glass of beer right in front of Emil, without a word, and subtly slammed his hand on the bar, displaying intolerance. Cracked skin. Too many dishes. And a... He gasped. His heart beating like mad.
”You alright?”
”Bartender” Emil says, almost stuttering. ”Can I have a glass of water, please?”
”Hell, man...”
The man fills the glass and puts it next to the beer glass. F. D. The initials, tattooed with poor skill on his hand, right where the root of the thumb begins. No mistake. Must be an army tattoo. His wife. Girlfriend. Child. In trenches, with ink. He rose quickly, trying to act normal.
”I need to use the bathroom, excuse me.”
He went away as fast as his freezing legs let him, right into the dirties bathroom in all Arkham. Fshhhhhhhhhhh. Cold tap water filled his hands and he washed his face. Me. He looked at the cracked, greasy mirror that distorted his face. Frightened. It's only a coincidence. Calm down. Yes. Pay and go.
Somewhat calm, he went back into the bar, put he knew not how much money next to his unfinished drink, told Sean to drink it for him, and went out before they knew it.

Having looked left and right, he ran across the street, and went left towards the dorm, not noticing the cold anymore. Silly. Soldiers do it all the time. The street was quiet, he made the only sound with his feet. Shortcut. He turned into an alley on his right, to cut the way short. His stomach growled with hunger. What day is it? I wonder what we have for lunch at the cafeteria. Cooked wine, like we do for Christmas. With chocolate cake and sweetened bread. Warms you up really nice. Stands with Danish pastry. Good croissants. A loud ring of metal followed by an aggressive meow of an escaping nightblack cat interrupted him. The animal had turned over the trash bin and scared itself. They never let you pet them or touch them. Look at you and disappear. Dogs are not like that. Friendlier. He rolled the bin with his foot towards the wall, pulled it up, went for the lid and placed it on top of the can. F. D. On top of the lid, written right under the handle. He looked at it thrice to make sure. ”No...” he mutters and starts backing up. Am I insane? The icy ground proved to be a foe, for his sole slipped and he fell on his back. Not pain, but Steiner was the last of his thoughts before he started running, and running.

Physical State: Uneasy-Coming down from Adrenaline Rush.
Mental State: Intrigued.

"Shit, thing are never as simple as they seem, are they? Take a look around; if someone took the time to check through this mess, it must mean that there is something of importance here. I'll take that permission of yours, Dr. Dupree, if you don't mind."

After closing the opened window to stifle the incoming winter chill August did just what Barry suggested and began trying to find something-anything-whithin the chaotic puzzle before them. Sure, August agreed chances were there had been something here-the real question was if whoever had beat them here had found whatever they were looking for. If they had in fact found whatever they were after...well, thatd just have to be Barry's problem. He reminded himself he was he for his own reasons and wouldn't get sucked into Barry's case-even if that case was extremely intriguing. Still though August found himself unable to stop himself from pondering over the thought that just maybe someone had stolen the late Dr. Atkins suicide note? Perhaps someone didn't want something in that note read? Perhaps-

His train of thought was cut off as Barry's familiar voice snapped him back to reality. Apparently his old friend had found something that lead him to ask what August thought was a rather random question."Well what is this? My strange days in Belgian Kongo...How long is it since Dr. Atkin's was in Africa, Dr. Dupree?"

Professor Dupree answered in a way that the giant August believed to be completely genuine. “I'm rather sorry, I can't say for sure. I'd guess perhaps a few years since he'd visited Africa? Again, Dr. Steiner knew him better than I had. He might also know why someone took it upon themselves to search this office and what, if anything, is missing." After surveying the chaos again Dupree was quick to add "I'm rather sorry, Officer Lexington, but I honestly doubt I have any further information I can share about this man. I knew him best at the end of his life, and not particularly well before. I have contributed what I can, and I doubt I can contribute much more without ending up underfoot."

Giving up on a pile of papers that seemed to be translating some dead language August let the documents fall back to the floor. He apparently didn't seem to mind adding to the mess. “I can't speak for Barry but in my oppinion you've been very helpful Professor.” August suddenly chimed in. “And if your previous offer of help still stands I would greatly appreciate it-that is if Investigator Barry here doesn't mind us two making our exit here? If it helps at all I can vouch for the Professor here-just givein the likely time frame of all these...odd events...I can honestly say Dupree couldn't have had any hand in this.” He let his massive right hand gesture at the chaotic mess that was once Dr. Atkin's office in an effort to specify what this was. “I've been with him too long.”

Clearly not liking what he was hearing but unable to come up with a good enough reason to hold Dupree and August here Barry finally relented. “Fine. Fine, but no promises I won't have more questions later"

August nodded without breaking eye contact. “Of course. I myself am staying at Nightshade's Inn, if you wanna stop by to question me over a beer or just catch up-come on by anytime. Room number 13. Watch out for the owner though, he's a bit...odd. Now I hate to leave you alone on some Cambodian expedition but the Professor and I should really get going.” He reopened the wooden door that was the exit; somehow it had reshut itself in the middle of all the previous commotion. “After you, Professor?” He finished asking in a way that was not only directed at Dupree but also made it very clear he was in fact done talking with Barry. He was well aware he was probably one of the few men that could do such a thing and go unscathed.

The truth was if August had been alone in the room with his old war Buddy Barry he would have no trouble telling him that his gut was pointing in the direction of Steiner-but the fact was his one solid lead was also in the room, a lead August didn't want to risk upsetting in the slightest. In actuality though he didn't really know what the truth behind this odd suicide; but that deep nagging part of him that had kept him alive so many times before kept telling him that in some way or another most roads lead to one name.

Steiner.

@Sigurd

Johan Myers

With Emil running towards wherever he was going bumping into the nervous student who was walking towards the cafe to get something to eat, He had so many thoughts running in his mind like the crime and who could be behind it and also if this something had to do with the imganiary friends that he had.

Since his mind was elsewhere he was not looking he bumped into Emil sending him backwards and landing hard on his behind,"So...rry..." The nervous man said in a hushed tone of voice. Trying his best to get up back on his feet profusely apologizing to the other man for being so careless.

On the damp ground again, for the second time in five minutes, now not minding the wetness and the cold, Emil, most certainly not rude considering the fact that he was the one propelled by this fellow materializing out of nowhere, first looked over his shoulder into the far-stretching alley whence he'd come, but couldn't notice anything out of the ordinary, except maybe that flittering bra that hung from one of cables that crisscrossed between the buildings on each side, before fixing his attention on the guy in front of him. Less dark now. Late night games of cards and stripping. My clear six. A cliche scene. I have to hurry.

The body off which Emil bounced said he was sorry, to which Emil replied with a nod only he thought of as as one saying ”no hard feelings.” He got up, brushed off some snow from his jacket sleeves, and, redcheeked and squinteyed, put his hand in front of him, quickly saying ”Emil, Emil Günther. I think I've seen you before, at the campus?” to avoid having to answer any questions that might pop up, although the familiar face didn't seem like an inquisitive one. Nevertheless, he thought it better to engage in small talk, maybe even subconsciously trying to make himself forget the eerie occurrences that the new day had brought him.

@Sigurd

Johan Myers

"Yes i am a student at the university...my name is Johan...Myers..." The nervous man said dusting off the dirt off his clothes,"I do apologize again i was just heading to the cafe for something to eat...do you mind coming with me?" He then asked with a shy smile on his face.

He wondered if the other man would like to join him,Although Johan did not want to see frightening to him.

“Fine. Fine, but no promises I won't have more questions later"

Within a matter of second, Barry was alone in the office. It was quiet, it was even more a mess, and somewhere in the back of Barry's mind he was half-waiting for something to jump on him out from hiding. With August and Dr. Dupree out of the room, Barry simply stood and looked around from the middle of the room for a moment; I really don't want to clean up this mess...Barry looked at the folder he still held in his hand, reading the title once and twice again, as if the answer would appear like an invisible ink.

Nothing happened, as one would expect. Well, except from the nagging feeling in his head, he felt as if he was being watched. "Oh to hell with this, I'm not dealing with this mess now...But I guess Dr. Steiner wouldn't mind some company?"

Barry closed the door behind him and tried to lock the door on instict. Realizing he had no key, he gave a quick around the corridor behind him, and walked away. Still holding the folder in his right hand, he began searching for the office to Dr. Steiner. Hopefully he would have some answers, or knew someone who had answers. Hell, as long as he could tell him Dr. Atkins' home-adress he'd be thankful.

The office was not difficult to find. Barry knocked on the door, waiting for a reply, and went in.

“Good morning, Dr. Steiner. Barry Lexington, Arkham Police Department. I need to talk to you about Dr. Atkins."



Some time later...

Arthur was once again alone in his office; the chat he had had with Officer Lexington had been less that pleasent, but nothing Arthur wouldn't expect from the police these days. He had answered all of his questions as far as he could - and wanted to -, and the cop was happy with most of his answers. And when he wasn't, Arthur could see Lexington staring him down, hoping to intimidate him into answering. Lucky for Arthur, he was used to these kinds of staring-contests. Soon the officer was annoyed enough to give up, but he assured Arthur that “I'll be in touch until this case is closed and shut. Don't leave town, Dr. Steiner."

As soon as he was alone again, he pulled up the letter; F.D....Was it a name? The thought raced through his mind quicker than a speeding bullet. Even if it was so remote that even a Russian cossack hadn't plundered or terrorized it, Arthur felt an ever growing urge to find answers. He was about to get up from his chair and head to the library, when someone knocked on his door.

"Come in, the door's open."

Professor Dupree nodded along with August's defense - yes, he was still willing to help, and of course he hadn't been the one to do this. In fact, despite his own problems with police, it hadn't even crossed his mind that Officer Lexington might consider him a suspect. Then again, there had been a fairly large number of questions about the man's death he simply did not know how to answer... Clearly, he was fortuitous to have August stumble across the scene.

August led the way to the door and invited Professor Dupree out first, something the man had no issue in saying no to, even if it brought up a few... unpleasant memories. He swallowed the grimace from his face (at least he'd used 'Professor', not 'Dupree'), murmured a mention of gratitude, and hurried out into the hall, leading the way from the late man's office and to the building of the main office, where student records were also kept. When he was certain Officer Lexington was not following, and that the two were out of earshot of the man, he decided it was worth asking a rather simple question.

"Is your friend always quite so...intense?"

-
August couldn't help but let out a loud genuine snort of laughter that befitted his massive size before he suddenly regained himself. Apparently he'd found the question rather amusing. Adjusting the fedora on his head in slight embarrassment he forced a cough. Opening his mouth to answer he suddenly stopped to take a quick glance over his shoulder in an effort to make sure Barry wasn't somehow behind them-he knew he wasn't...but then again, you never really knew. If Dupree had noticed it was an action that spoke volumes.

“If I'm being completely honest with you Professor, that was him on a good day. He's the type best...avoided.” His voice suddenly kept on despite the brief pause, his usual deep methodical tone carrying with it a hint of something else-as if he was actually speaking to the only recently met Professor Dupree as a friend would (or peer, if nothing else.)

"Ah-this looks like the room the young receptionist downstairs mentioned. Names A through F." August said referring the young redhead Dupree had signed in with downstairs to view the student documents within the room the two were about to enter. Hopefully answers were inside.

-
Dupree couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at August's reaction. It was - not what he expected. Then again, perhaps it was more a laugh at Dupree stating what was so bleeding obvious and, at that, Dupree couldn't help but glance away in momentary hurt and annoyance. It was better to ask and examine than simply assume. Even if the fields of science tended to attempt all three at once.

The actual response was less than welcome. "And the man is an officer too..." Dupree didn't feel the need to finish the thought - that was even more obvious than what he had tried to confirm seconds ago. "With any luck, that will be the last I see of him." If there was some underlying pattern, Dupree fervently hoped Lexington was not an important part of it. "All due respect, of course." Well. Perhaps better to switch to a different topic. "So, you both served. I was ignored due to reasons of physical health, so I'll admit, I doubt my stories will be quite as... interesting to recount as yours are, but I might have a handful to pass the time to the registry, if you don't mind?"

That was how Professor Jeremiah Dupree ended up recounting the study of one small village located in the harsh deserts of Libya during his undergrad years. It had been a small village, no more than two hundred people, and the fact they'd apparently persisted out in the desert for over three hundred years always astounded Jeremiah. The nature of their environment had limited them to largely oral traditions, and it had been Jeremiah's first major task as an assistant to his professor - interviewing over fifty people for even fragments of unique mythos. It had been grueling work but, ultimately, proof that he was right about something greater going on in the universe. Though, as he gently added to august, he was banned from discussing the actual results without owing Cornell a small sum. So forgive him for actually leaving out the particulars of his trip.

It was still chilly outside, but the sun and passing time had added some necessary warmth to the air as their shoes crunched on the snow and ice to the main office. Dupree was in no rush, if only to avoid slipping and falling on some icy patch blending in with the sidewalk. He had dealt with more than a few students with bruised tailbones who had not heeded such warnings. Once more, Dupree lead the way through the door, this time holding it open for August to follow behind. Left, down to the registrar. The secretary's nameplate identified her as Eleonora Legrand, and she was friendly enough as Dupree introduced himself as a professor, trying to locate someone who had proclaimed herself a student, and needed her records to see where she might be housed. One show of identification and a signature on a clipboard later, Dupree led the way upstairs to help search for the archival room Legrand mentioned. August beat him to it, however - hardly a surprise, he supposed.

"Let us hope so. Miskatonic is... not always the most attentive to details." This door gave away much more easily to Dupree's push, swinging inside to reveal several large filing cabinets lining the walls, dated by year.

"...as I had said."

-
Suddenly things changed.

The warmth that had filled the air mere moments before seemed to disappear as if it had never even been there and in its place existed an almost unearthly chill. The random cold was such that August swore he would be able to see his own breathe as he exhaled.

He didn't.

Keeping his pace forward into the file room August couldn't help but be reminded of when he had been a younger man working as a butcher-the same sudden chill that made goosebumps spread over his skin and caused his hair stand up on end was the exact feeling he recognized now. Only instead of being surrounded by ice and frozen flesh he was flanked by chin high black metal filing cabinets with varying labels to identify them. Dupree hadn't been joking when he said the University "wasn't the most attentive to details." Almost thirty minutes of shivering later and they finally located the current year for the last names starting with the letter D.

"You sure were right about the attention to details...and remind me to file a complaint about the air conditioning in here." August finally let out with a half hearted laugh that clearly was intended to make the duo feel more comfortable-as if nothing weird was going on. It might have even worked if it hadn't been for the fact that at the very same time August could swear he felt himself being watched by someone. Someone who wasn't Dupree.

Pushing the feeling aside August momentarily became lost in the act of pulling open the cabinet drawer that was labeled with little more than white tape and a sharpie. The hastily scrawled letters read "1924: D"

Could this really be it? His mind thundered to himself as he began flipping through the various files inside like a man possessed. Would he find proof that she existed? Or just proof that he was, in fact, a madman? Which would be worse? Which would he prefer?

-
For Professor Dupree, the room was almost claustrophobic in its tightness. His own size didn't help that feeling either - it was almost like every few seconds, he was bumping into a filing cabinet or August himself. After a while, he tried simply to keep at least one cabinet between himself and the other man, if only to avoid bruising him as well. As he tried to reason with himself, they weren't the most organized. Her file might have been slipped into the wrong year, or they may have left her file under the year she registered. It happened with an embarrassing amount of frequency but, then again, Dupree couldn't say he was keen on the idea of being the one to fix it all.

Dupree had stopped at the 1908 cabinet and was staring into its drawer when August's motions ceased, and then began flipping more rapidly. He'd found the current year, Dupree supposed. That was good. Maybe he'd find his niece in there.

Then again, what was the file of one Desdemona, Faye doing in the 1908 cabinet?

As August kept searching, Dupree hesitantly pulled out the file and opened it, flipping it open to scan the particulars. Hm, nice girl. Looked like she'd submitted a dry plate, and Dupree had to feel somewhat guilty to say he didn't see the resemblance to August as he unwrapped it from its soft cloth and examined it under the room's dim light. Her living location wasn't listed at the top as it ought to have been, so Dupree couldn't help but look over her record in hopes of finding her professors. What he wouldn't give for a student like this! Excellent grades, regular attendance, two majors, a fair amount of undergrad work, graduated with honors-

Wait, what?

Professor Dupree had to do a double-take. This folder was in 1908 because that was the year of her graduation.

He paled, suddenly unwilling to turn around and tell August he might have found his niece's folder. That the only Faye Desdemona he had found graduated almost twenty years ago. That, as her uncle and a war veteran, he had aged remarkably well. What was he getting upset over? He whose chest was bound in bandages and thick undershirts, who sought the patterns in the losses of others, who kept to himself what happened in Ireland so long ago-
The folder bent as his fingers tightened into fists.

-
The elation of finally having discovered the proper filing cabinet labeled “1924: D" was rather short lived as August found no mention of the infamous Faye Desdemona anywhere among the vast number of files. Honestly though he wasn't that surprised with the outcome but still found himself stifling a sigh-whether it was a sigh of relief or frustration he honestly wasn't really sure.

Standing in silence for a moment before the still open chest high cabinet drawer he couldn't help but think to himself: This had to prove the dreams were just...nightmares? Right?

He quickly reassured himself that this was in fact the case-there was a screw loose somewhere up in his head and he clearly needed some sort of official medical help. It was almost the exact moment that he came to this conclusion that he had noticed Dupree staring at him in a somewhat peculiar way while simultaneously crushing some form of documents in his hands.

Having been lost in his own train of thought August was genuinley perplexed when he finally noticed the shift in Professor Dupree's body language. “Professor, is everything allright? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

-
Professor Dupree, still lost in his own labyrinth of thoughts, took a good minute to come back to reality - August staring at him oddly, the file still untouched in his hands though now bending and threatening to drop the glass plate to the floor. That was less than ideal. Dupree tried to force his fingers to relax, and then glanced away from August. Now what? It would be easy to dismiss the whole thing, simply wish August better luck elsewhere in finding his niece (was she?), and try to resume his day-to-day life with grading and studying the newspapers. 'Easy', of course, meaning 'far less difficult' as opposed to 'requiring little effort' - no, this was going to take a while to fix.

And yet, when had Dupree ever been cowardly enough to run from an opportunity at truth?

He looked down to the file and gently picked up the plate. "I may have found your niece's file. Is this her?" He offered August the photographic plate to view for himself, careful to obscure the information in the folder while he did so. There was a chance this was somehow a hideous misunderstanding and mistake - and yet the name and details had been right.

-
August took hold of the offered photographic plate without hesitation-he wasn't sure what hole exactly Dupree had dug it out of but nonetheless he could feel his pulse quickening at the prospect of a solid lead.

Angling the fragile photographic image in the dim light of the room August was able to make out the features of a fair looking young woman with long sleek black hair. In his dreams he had never been fortunate enough to see the face of the woman he so maddeningly sought but everything else matched to a tee-from her height and body type to the oddly older style clothes she wore everything about her matched. Having never seen her face to face he still held no doubts this was indeed Faye Desdemona.

She was real.

Finally speaking up his response was brief, disbelief clear in his voice. “Yes. Yes, this is her professor. Did you happen to find an address too?” His eyes stared at the envelope Dupree still held like a greedy child still completely unaware of the truth that had been discovered.

-
"Not quite, no." Professor Dupree hesitated and then decided he'd hold onto the folder for now. He was so certain this was her, and yet... "Miskatonic University rarely tracks its students after graduation, though there may be something in the local papers, considering how well she did here." He inhaled, a little too hard and winced as his bindings rubbed against a raw spot of skin. He had to know. "August, Faye Desdemona graduated in 1908. Who is she to you?"

He had seen the surprise on the man's face, could make out the disbelief and pure need in his voice as he inquired about her address. This student, this lady was important - and yet, surely he had known her age? Why claim she was a niece? Why not a sister or a former lover? This could not be a coincidence, he had known who he was looking for. Faye Desdemona of Miskatonic University. That was not a common name, he told himself again. August knew her; he was simply incorrect by almost twenty years.

His mind flashed back to Dr. Atkin's ravings, carried away by the chilling winds and flowing from those grinning lips. One madman was a thing to fear. Two was cause to start pondering if they were mad at all.

-
The words of Dupree hung uncomfortably in the air for what felt like an eternity-August himself completely taken aback by both the turn of events and Dupree's sudden questioning. It didn't take him long to realize his lie had been discovered and he had to admit that he was feeling rather uncomfortable at the fact, especially since he was stuck in the tiny enclosed room with Dupree. He could feel his cheeks turning a shade of scarlet as he took his fedora off with one massive hand before resting the headpiece against his chest in an old fashioned display of respect. For a brief moment he stared at his shoes like a child to ashamed to look his scolding parents in the eye.

In all honesty though August didn't mind telling Dupree what his "relationship" with Faye Desdemona was-the only problem there though was he himself didn't even truly know just what that "relationship" was. Hell, until just a moment ago he didn't even know the poor girl was actually real.

1908? That means I was only 18 when she graduated..then how do I know her? Why do I know her in my dreams? All these thoughts and many more raced through Augusts mind in a frantic flurry before he realized he still hadn't responded to Dupree whom was still staring at him with a look of...genuine curiosity? August wasn't sure how to label it but he was certain Dupree had the look of a man after the truth. Deciding lieing here would do him no good August chose to try and tell a half truth in some desperate attempt to give Dupree just enough to satisfy his questions.

"Well...It's a long story Professor." August eventually spoke up as his eyes finally met with Dupree's gaze yet again. "And, I guess the short version would be I promised a friend from the war I'd track this woman down. A friend that didn't make it back...I can't even say what their relationship was if I'm being completely honest, all I can really say was I made a promise and came here to..." After a brief pause he seemed to find the right words "...well, to lay some old ghosts to rest."

August made sure to leave out the part where he had made this promise in his dreams with the bloody stump of a torso that was Kane Kitter. Part of him tried to take solace in the fact that everything he'd just said wasn't "technically" a lie.

-
Professor Dupree listened to the answer, short as it was, very closely. There had been that moment of shame... and then an entirely plausible, mundane, and rather sane response.

It was almost disappointing.

The day a professor of ancient cults went mad, mysteriously climbed to the top of Miskatonic's highest tower, and jumped to his demise, was the same day a man came by looking for a lady who had graduated almost twenty years ago and just also happened to be a detective who was friends with the officer sent to investigate... because of a coincidence?

There's always something greater at work, his mental mantra began. He tried to nudge it aside while he took in August's words. A different part mentioned, Hadn't Lexington agreed with his mention of a niece? Yet another countered, He could still have one. And yet-

"He hadn't even told you her age?" He grabbed at the detail and ran with it. "If you accepted my help, you had to realize that I would have discovered the discrepancy at some point, that either you have aged quite well, or you lied about her being your niece." A pause. "She would have graduated before the Great War even began, and you didn't know!" And it was the one detail he had, that she went here. But his friend neglected to mention her relative age or the fact she had graduated.

He wasn't ready to let this go yet. He wanted to hear this whole story at some point, if not now.

-
"Professor I-" August began to respond in a quick retort but suddenly stopped. With a particularly noisy sigh his massive massive frame shifted up and down while he stood in place staring down at Dupree. At the moment he was torn between lying-unsure of whether or not he should plead a sob story of sorts about how "a man cut down by machine gun fire doesn't have much time to talk" or if just flat out telling the whole and entire crazy truth at this point was a better decision.

After a few moments of agonizing indecision August started talking again and couldn't stop the avalanche of information that began pouring from his mouth. In what seemed like the span of a few moments August told Dupree everything-he told him of the dreams, of his dead comrade Kane Kitter, and how he had never even seen or heard of Faye Desdemona, and yet somehow at the same time he knew beyond a doubt the woman was real and that he had to find her.

After a good minute of rambling and completely having lost his composure August stifled a sniffle while simultaneously wiping away a tear he would have never admitted was there. A second later though and he was the same massive mountain of muscle and strength that he usually personified.

"I...I know how, well, how crazy that sounds Professor. But I am not crazy-or atleast...I don't feel like I'm crazy, but that's just what a nutjob would say, right?" He paused as his pleading eyes met again with Duprees, clearly unsure whether or not he should believe the very words he spoke.

-
Apparently, Dupree decided, he had hit a more sensitive spot than he imagined. That spot was sufficient to gather the 'long story' August had hinted uncomfortably at. Were it not for the deep turmoil it clearly gave August, Dupree might have even spared a moment of applause or awe for the quality of the tale. Now, though, he needed a moment to compose himself, and, he realized with a twinge of horror, wipe that damnable smile from his face. He forced a cough from his throat to cover his mouth and buy himself a few seconds. Hopefully, August had not noticed and did not think him a vulture. As if he wasn't one.

Crazy, maybe, but as he had thought moments ago - two crazies were cause to ponder if they weren't crazy at all.

"You know, August," Jeremiah began, lowering his hand from his face, "I ended up getting my degree in anthropology. I spent much of my time at Hopkins continuing my study of other cultures and beliefs. The notion of gathering information from the deceased in dreams has proven a common one and, contrary to what many modern psychologists seem to think, has been rather reliable in my studies. Never personal, of course." Not that he felt particularly unlucky, given August's experience. "After I received my doctorate, I suppose I should have gone abroad. There were more than a handful of villages who had welcomed my presence and were within driving distance of a college I could teach at. Or I could have made my living simply submitting my studies to Cornell for the rest of my life. Instead, I chose Arkham and Miskatonic University." He considered August's semi-delicate state of emotions. He considered the mystery of Faye Desdemona and Howard Atkins. He considered his wall at home. All of these factors were carefully picked over as he chose his next words.

"I chose them because there is something fucking wrong with this place and I intend to find out what it is."

Clearly, well chosen and thoughtful words.

"If you are concerned with being considered addled, I should warn you, you will be in good company. The article about Dr. Atkins that will undoubtedly appear in The Arkham Sun tomorrow will be clipped and added to my wall, alongside the reports of the six other people of Arkham who were detained and committed to the local asylum before they could cause themselves or anyone else great harm. That is all from this winter, mind you. There are far, far more incidents that all seem tied to this city and its many ghost stories. If you are mad - so is half this city, I assure you that much." And there was still that professor of psychology who accused Jeremiah of being mad himself. Though August hearing that he might be receiving comfort from a madman (he was not) himself would not help, he was sure. "The fact that the person you seek actually happens to exist is already evidence in your favor that you may not be entirely mad, though I cannot say if that would be a relief or not."

After all, that meant the mystery of Faye Desdemona was far from over. Even if Dupree was still willing to try to follow up, perhaps track down the professors she had worked alongside to learn her fate, that was likely little comfort compared to the notion that the dead were truly speaking to him in his dreams.

-
August stood enthralled by the words the recently met Dupree spoke-the mans words offering August an explanation for his recent troubles while simultaneously making him feel less and less like a complete nut job. August had never expected to meet someone at home, let alone a civilian, that would actually even listen to his ramblings about dreams with an earnest ear. At the same time though everything Dupree said made August worry-worry about just what things were actually going on here.

The Catholic in him really hoped he hadn't been brought here for some meaning.

The detective within him though couldn't help but be intrigued by everything Dupree had said, before he knew it he found himself asking out of pure curiosity.

"Well Professor, is there any way I could see this wall of yours?"

Erika Günther

Physical state: Sleeping
Mental state: Fragmented

Ah, but he is brudersome, is he? Mousing around, noseing ever since he fell from the wombroom. House kras! Now peace and silence. Deathdoomed, lifetombed. They said so. A wild child was. Mother muttered. Sch! No more now. Can't hear me with the shouting memories, snowflakes toandfroing. Listen! I am as light as overthere snow, so tell me, fast, brother, can you? My fingers cannot reach you. They are as wet as overhere cold. Speak, speak, sprich! Don't Wind away! Now the clouds are growing. Fates long are knocking Door. My toes are growing, breastmountains poking. My hair is flowing, my tongue is floating. Through my bones the Danube flowing. Moon, moooon, milky glowing. Alune. Awake. My room...

Erika wouldn't sleep any more that night. In her ghostly sleeping gown, she slipped into her woolen socks, and went out on the porch and set on the chair where Flori usually slept but not now.
''Albträume?''
The dog whined, coating her hand in warm saliva, scraping her fingers with jaws.
''Ja, ich verstehe...'' she said, remembering her own dream, annoyed, hating sleepless nights. But she knew there was no way to fall asleep again.
''Was sollen wir tun, Flori?''
The German shepherd let go of her hand and put his head between the paws.
''Ja, schlaf...'' she kept petting him, looking westward at the sky, slowly beginning to feel the sharp night chill in the air.



What could go wrong? He'd eat and then part, go look for Steiner again. Starving won't help. He appreciated the invitation, realizing he was glad in some way to have someone offer him eating company. He nodded gravely, raising his eyebrows. ”Sure, why not.”

Lsn...!
”Huh?” he murmured and turned around, stopping the walk next to his new acquaintance. Nothing there. Only the wind whispering through the snowflakes, rousing memories. ”Let's go.”
Should I ask? ”So... You're a student, too? Have you heard about it? The suicide?”

@Sigurd

Johan Meyers

"Oh good..." The young man was happy to hear that someone would come with him to the cafe,Usually he would eat alone and it always did a number on his social life. Having someone with him would clam down his already high anxiety that he was having, Walking down the road stopping when they were at the cafe.

"Oh i am a student at the university...ah yes i know of it...let's try not to talk about it now..." Johan said trying not to think about the suicide at the school.