A slight smile graced Sethan's features as Makraov greeted him. This man held matters of respect quite highly, and was not one to dally as he spoke. The dead king quite appreciated that, and found himself fascinated by his short story. There was almost a tinge of guilt in Sethan's heart for judging the man so harshly when he was actually quite personable. Makarov could have very well served at Sethan's side millennia ago. He considered extending to him that opportunity in the future, once Irem was reborn.

"I have a moderate interest in your nation, yes. Nothing more really than any other, as none of these provinces existed when I was king, but Russia's role in the last century of history was quite interesting to watch unfold. 'Communism;' very novel." He said, as though commenting on a book he had just read. "Now to whom do you suppose all of this gold belonged to? The formal royal house, I assume, though I'm certain you have a better idea."

However, before they could delve deeper into their discussion, Atticus stood before the group and made his proclamation. A private rescue mission? Off the books? To Egypt no less? This was very interesting. Sethan paid rapt attention to his infernal associate as he continued his summary. The dead king had his own obligations to Hoyle, but at the same time, he had much unfinished business in that corner of Africa. And to reiterate, this endeavor would remain unknown to the larger company, which had subtly forbade Sethan from returning to his homeland over the last century. This Ankh was another matter as well. If it could resurrect a god, he supposed that there was little else that it could not revive.

The others bickered, but Sethan paid them little mind. He stared at Atticus as he stroked his chin, deep in thought. It was clear that Atticus had contacted him for this part of the mission, and why he had been addressed by letter rather than some other traceable channel. This was off the record, after all. There was the matter that Sethan was not an Egyptian, nor had he ever been in "Egypt," or even met a person that resided in the country. But the Ankh was once wielded by a god, and Sethan was not called a God-King merely because he wished to be. The pieces were falling into place, one by one. Sethan laughed, loud and heartily over his arguing coworkers. He threw his head back and continued to laugh, his teeth of gold and ivory shining in the moonlight. His laughter then lessened, but did not stop as he began to clap, looking straight to the incubus. Slowly and almost sardonically he applauded the incubus, his laughter then fading to silence.

"Hail to you, Atticus, hail to you." He said, and ceased his applause. "Finish your explanations. Then we will have words."

It felt like a taunt, like a slap in the face, or a punch in the gut, every. Single. Time.

Daisy and Max had never been friends. Not even pretend friends, like Henry and Max had been. They could have been called colleagues , coworkers at best. The last interaction they'd had -- before she'd killed him, at least -- had been halfway through that fucked up game or truth or dare, where he'd made her...no asked her about things she was still trying to forget.

She hadn't been angry at him, though. Not right away. And betrayed wasn't the right word, either. She'd never trusted him to begin with. He wasn't hot enough to flirt with, or single enough to bother. He just...was. And Daisy was okay with that.

The game -- his dare -- had changed everything. And when she'd gotten the order to kill him the next morning, she'd be lying if she said a second, just a second's worth of vindictive smugness hadn't gone through her.

Maybe that was why she was still having nightmares, or near enough, a year later. Or maybe it was just Veti.

It didn't matter. What mattered was his name, circling her mind like a shut-in sanctuary, that single syllable counted off over and over again, the most fucked up kind of rosary there was.

And now, when the others said Max, she heard whispers, taunts: not good enough. Not fast enough. Not strong enough. Your fault. You left him. You killed him. You'll kill Veti.

So, Veti's death would be on her hands, too.

So, she gave it up. For one night, for one minute, Daisy said 'fuck it' to her candy-colored 'whatever' exterior. Because she was pissed. And she was scared. And she was really, really sorry. Even if she couldn't figure out how to say it to Veti. She could say it -- in not so few words -- to the rest of the accumulated party. Yeah, even the hot ones.

Better than listening to them discuss Death like they were debating rising gas prices.

Daisy pursed her lips and waited quietly as everyone introduced themselves, name, title, species, favorite fucking color. The office party ice breaker with a nauseating twist, everyone carving out their own special little snowflakes to toss into the ring. She was sort of hoping someone would say something halfway decent, and she could maintain her cool couldn't-care-less composure.

The elf ruined that.

Daisy sighed. There was always one.

She and the mummy burst out laughing almost at the same time, though for entirely different reasons, and with the mummy, goddamn him, looking so much better while doing it.

For once, Daisy didn't really care. If the last year had taught her anything at all, it was that Reapers -- at least the teenage variety -- had feelings, too, and they sucked.

"I like this," she said appreciatively, when the mummy had finished preening. "This is good. Satire is gold right now. I say we block it, cast it, head back to the States, and get this shit up on Broadway ASAP." She looked at Veti, then, green eyes bright with malicious hostility.

"Wolfy, this goes well, we could buy you a hundred new Maxes! I was thinking for a working title...'Asking Fish How to Fly: Bullshit Jeopardy Where No One Knows What the Actual Fuck They're Talking About'?" A pause, and Daisy laughed again. "No, you're right, needs work. I'll put you on that, Vet's, okay?"

She turned to the elf, a finger on her chin, tapping imperiously, as if deep in thought.

"Now, the script...the script could use some work. Can you help us out on that front, babe? Since you've 'been known to talk to the dead' and all? You must be an expert on the topic, right? Oh, my God, how rude of me! I'd totally forgotten to introduce myself, since that's apparently a thing we're doing now."

She stepped forward with a grin that might have looked sincere if it hadn't looking so...insincere. She stuck out a hand. "Hi there. Daisy. Reaper. I've been known to give a fuck." Then she laughed again. "Ha! Just kidding! See? Rolling with the punches, this is comedy gold, guys!"

She turned away from the elf girl to lean up against the stone as Artie grew bored with the discussion and traipsed off to seek another chew toy from Veti. Daisy hardly noticed.

"See, what I'm worried about is our ability to pull any of this off without a giant. I mean, when did anything every go right for anyone without a giant, amirite? Jack and the Beanstalk, guys! Without the giant, they just woulda had a big ass vine thing in their front yard for years, and that is insurance fraud just waiting to happen."

Daisy looked finally to Atticus, which was more than she'd been able to do since he all but sentence Max to his death a year ago. There was more -- much more -- to be said. Of 'risks' posed, ramifications in life. That part made Daisy want to laugh.

Pulling a soul from the waters of Death, and he was worried about what effects on life it would have? Fucking idiot. He was afraid of the wrong side. But for people, or whatever, things like him, sometimes, it was better to show than to tell.

Mila always enjoyed the little banter she and Henry shared. Maybe it had something to do with them being water spirits. Though it would be wrong to think all water beings to be related. Very wrong indeed. One scene in particular came to mind when a rather ignorant employee of Bain & Hoyle expressed his opinion of water spirits and their reputation as deadly seductors. Both Henry and her had immediately jumped to the defense of their brethren. They made quite the scene actually, resulting in that very employee leaving Bain & Hoyle shortly after. She didn't know if he got fired or scared, she guessed the latter. As far as she was concerned her asked for it. I mean how stupid can you be? Insulting water spirits in the company of a Siren and a Rusalka. Yes fun times. She reminisced with an amused smile.

So Henry had been in Brazil? That was a surprise. He hadn't told her anything about that. Aside from the friendly banter and occasional teasing, their friendship was still a bit up in the air. At least that's what she felt it was. They were friends of course, she didn't doubt that. But what kind of friendship did they have? Obviously they hadn't reached the phase of telling each other of their whereabouts. Mina wasn't used to starting a new friendship anymore. The only friends she had were the other Rusalki. She'd given up on friendship with mortals, saying goodbye hurt too much. She had tried to make it work but after a century realized she was only hurting herself. The friendship couldn't carry the loss that came afterwards. She didn't want to turn into someone who lived for their memories, because that would happen to her. She could wallow in grief for years. Years that were wasted. Immortality was cruel.

Wow can I be any more gloomy?
It was the atmosphere that did it. Some of the people gathered here shared history together. It felt like she should know something. But she didn't which made the whole gathering a bit uneasy. Mila got the sense everyone was walking on egg shells. Henry was too as as he introduced her to the woman he'd spoken with. Mila tried to shake the gloom best she could and put on a friendly smile. Henry introduced her as Veti and after a quick embrace with Henry which made Mina laugh the red headed woman turned her attention to her. Much to her shame the first thing that came to mind was if Veti's hair color was real. It was intensely red, very vivid but beautiful none the less. It suited her nicely. "It's nice to meet you too Veti, I see we already have one thing in common" She said pointing out their hair color, though different in shade, red was still red. When Veti bowed in respect Mila was surprised. Granted she might be a century old, her presence wasn't exactly commanding more so than charming. The Rusalka returned the bow with a slightly awkward one of her own.

A whistle drew her attention back to the purpose of their meeting, or so she thought. From the letter she'd understood this was about a personal matter of Mr Hoyle. As Atticus continued his speech he divulged the real reason. It was the explanation she'd been waiting for. She was stunned by the story and unlike the rumors this was painfully detailed. The fact he was asking them to join him on a mission outside of Bain & Hoyle wasn't what bothered her. Mila didn't care much for rules, they were guidelines at best, since they were just asking to be broken. What worried her was being found out. If Bain & Hoyle got wind of their secret agenda she didn't know what would happen. There would be consequences for the ones involved that was one thing she didn't doubt. Getting fired which equaled losing access to the library. But wasn't she being a complete hypocrite? She of all people who joined Bain & Hoyle with a personal agenda. It would have been a different scenario had she been with the company for many years, but she had only been working for Bain & Hoyle for two months. So all in all losing her job wasn't what worried her.

It was the Ankh that worried her and the possibility to bring someone back to life. Mila had her doubts. The opportunity to bring someone back from the dead? Who wouldn't want that? Many of them herself included had lived lives longer than humanly possible. She had lost and loved and she suspected they had too. What would keep anyone from taking that opportunity for themselves? Betray a group of strangers? The reaction was divided. Some agreed, some disagreed but they were just going to have to agree to disagree. Mila hadn't been there the first time around and neither did she fully understand the depth of this mission. She admired the loyalty these people showed to their friend, a friend who had saved both worlds.

Veti's reaction was remarkable and Mina could tell Max and her had shared something. Friends maybe, or lovers perhaps. She didn't know which side to choose. Atticus came to mingle in the group and speak to each of them. Mila turned to Veti, trying for a smile but wholly careful in her approach. The woman was struggling against feelings, Mila felt she could relate to in her own way. "May I see that" She spoke softly taking the map from her in a quick gesture. Mila couldn't help but feel like she had just escaped a bear trap. Well that may have been an exaggeration but Veti had quite the fiery temper.

She furrowed her brows, a thoughtful look on her face as she studied the map. The markings were vague but readable, probably even recognizable for someone from the land of the Nile. There wasn't really a reason why she could go to Egypt to find the Ankh. No payment, no benefit to her whatsoever. The desert wouldn't kill her outright since that wasn't really possible but it wasn't the best environment for a fresh water spirit. The heat and drought could eventually lead to a comatose state, something which had only happened once before in her entire 122 years of life. A scary scenario which should have made her steer clear of this mission. But for some reason even she couldn't explain, she did the exact opposite. Maybe it was her gut that convinced her, if anything Mila was a sucker for love.

She moved through the crowd as if gliding through water, effortlessly and gracefully, until she reached Atticus's side. Up close Mila couldn't help but let her eyes appreciate the guise the desire demon had chosen for himself. He was handsome as only a demon could be, sinfully so. A full beard which hid his undoubtedly chiseled jaw and deep burning eyes. As a human Mila by today's standards could have been considered chaste, the child she had out of wedlock being her only mistake. As a Rusalka however things had......changed. Innocent as they might appear, they were not beyond using their feminine wiles to lure men in. It seemed to be an ever present contradiction as there was really no such thing as in innocent seductress.

"I will help you find this Ankh, as it is like you say, your only chance of getting your friend back" Mila spoke for only Atticus to hear. She didn't really think it concerned anyone else where she would be going and why.

Siya stood in the spot where she’d been and watched as Atticus strolled away and pulled himself up onto a stone. The moonlight washed over him, making the angles of his face more severe, more intimidating. Against the pale light of the moon the color of his crimson eyes made her shiver, not in fear, not only in fear at least. She drifted back through the small crowd, out of the circle of moonlight that made her pale flesh glow and into the shadows cast by the stones that she imagined she could still feel thrumming with a hint of the power they had been built to channel. Time wears almost everything down.

It was a comfort and an irritant all at the same time to be in the shadows. Familiar but suddenly not enough and she found herself at war with herself. Wanting to step away from the cool stone all the while needing its shelter. She stayed where she was out of habit more than anything, watching, listening as the missions were given.

She ached to hear the words of Atticus, ached because of the hope that flared within her. Max, sweet, blundering unapologetic Max might come back to them. One tiny little hand flew to her mouth and covered her bow of a mouth to hold back the little sob that threatened to escape. She wanted Max back, for Veti but also for herself. She loved him in her own quiet way. It was nothing to Veti’s bright flame, but then she was nothing to Veti’s bright flame.

Following Atticus’ announcement there was much discord as people spoke, dropping opinions and spouting intentions. It wasn’t surprising, getting so many supernatural, i.e. so many egos together always brought about much posturing. She watched it with half a mind as she considered her own choices. She should go with Veti, she knew that. She should go with her best, heart’s friend and do everything to get Max back. But she had watched her friend slowly fade, watched as she’d frayed about the edges and played at being alive. She knew that if this didn’t work Veti wasn’t coming back. Veti’s time had been numbered, Siya knew this though she could not prove it. She saw the raw hope in her friend’s eyes even from the distant shadows as perfect strangers offered their services. Yet she, Veti’s closest friend remained distant, her words held tight behind her teeth.

Why was that? Why didn’t she move?

She couldn’t. She couldn’t watch Veti die and that’s what would happen if Veti didn’t succeed. Siya’s own tenuous grip on life had been strengthened by Veti and through her by Max. If not for them she would have been dead several times over, slipping fully into the shadows she favored until there was nothing left. But she hadn’t because of them and for that she was more grateful than words could ever say. All these long months she’d tried to be enough for Veti, tried to give her the strength she’d received from her friend. It wasn’t enough, she wasn’t enough.

So maybe it was time to let go?

She bit her lip as her eyes filled with pink tinged tears. Could she do that? Could she let go? She didn’t want to but she knew that if Veti went down, there was every chance she’d go down with her if she were there. Veti had given her a life, one she wasn’t quite done with. She pulled her eyes from her bright friend and towards the crimson eyed man she worried she might literally be addicted to. She wasn’t enough for Veti and she had no illusions that she’d ever be enough for him, but it would be a new direction for her. Out of the shadows and into the light cast by a demon’s eyes.

She took a step towards him and then paused, looking towards Veti who stood in her circle of strangers. She turned and with all the lithe unnatural speed her blood gave her she moved. Slipping between and past all the others like an unseen breeze until she was right in front of Veti, like she’d just appeared there. She looked up at her friend, her face wet with tears and suffused with sad love.

“Veti.” She said, all her heartbreak cracking her voice.

She slipped her pale, slender arms about the bright, vivid werewolf who towered over her and hugged her with all the considerable strength in her body. She knew Veti could take it and she knew this might be the last hug she ever gave the wonderful woman who had saved her but would not be saved in turn.

“I love you Veti, but I can’t… I just… Can’t.”

She rested her cheek against her friend’s chest and felt the beating of Veti’s cracked heart.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you these last few months and that I can’t help you now. I’m just not strong enough. When you bring Max back tell him I love him and then you both disappear somewhere warm and don’t look back.”

She stepped back, kissed her friend’s cheek, turned and vanished again moving too fast to follow until she appeared in front of Atticus. She stood before him, wiping softly at tears and trying to smile brightly up at him.

“Reporting for duty, Sir,” she said in a tight voice thickened with loss and her dying accent.

It seemed he had said just enough for now, excellent.

Semyon's mouth could not move much further up than it already had, and so he settled for nodding along with Sethan's words, maintaining rapt attention. That is, he did until Atticus spoke up once more, the reaction to his words causing enough chaos to unfortunately cut his current conversation off for the time being. To assist Atticus in helping Reginald Hoyle -one of the company founders- or to help Victoria Tamarind in resurrecting someone dear to her? The Wight weighed the options in his head as discourse and argument swirled before him, and his lips fell once more to a dour frown.

Atticus had the mind of a leader, but he played cruel games at times.

Master Hoyle was one of Semyon's top employers, he might as well be jointly holding the title of Tsar with Master Bain. Any help he requested should be met with a chorus of volunteers, with no mission of greater importance than what he himself had asked for. As a member of the company, Semyon should go with Atticus. As one who bore a soldier's mind, Semyon was all-but required to go with Atticus.

But Master Hoyle wasn't here right now, distraught and furious, grasping at the last fraying threads of hope that had suddenly been tossed his way.

Miss Tamarind, however, was.

Semyon was quiet, offering a deep bow to the now-mirthful Sethan before striding silently across the grassy hilltop where they all stood. He wove around the others, careful not to interrupt their conversations of arguments, as a trickle of water might avoid the bumps and outcrops of a slope. He took his time, and eventually stood near the Werewolf who was present, bag still hanging from his shoulder, eyes moving to Atticus first, before falling back on the one he chose to help.

"I have never been to Alexandria." The words echoed quietly, simply. "I hope the library is as great as people say."

She had watched with genuine interest as the gathering of beings inside of Ardgroom’s mysterious stone circle continued to grow. They were a diverse bunch, and they each exuded unique energies of color that curled and cascaded together as they neared. This energy curled and cascaded together into a beautiful collage of color as each new individual added their own paintbrush to the canvas of the Irish night air. She smiled softly as these colors would occasionally flare, stoked by their creator’s emotion, and add starbursts into the kaleidoscope. Despite having witnessed the very dawn of the universe, these colors still transfixed her, and she never tired of marveling at the inherent beauty that each life-force could add to creation.

Though some distance away, her ears could clearly hear the symphony of voices within the circle. When she heard the incubus speaking of the ankh, her ethereal eyes brightened. The colors soon erupted, fed with a spectrum of emotions that danced now like an aurora, unseen to the very artists who created it. The reactions were not unexpected, and she laughed lightly to herself. The incubus had been right to ask her here. As the tempers flared, the energy they fed in turn flared with them. Such strength of emotion, it was something that the gods of her kind did not share, and if there was one thing that she would admit to envy of the lower beings, it was that of their ability to simply lose themselves in the flood of their own feelings.

With a benevolent curl to her mouth, she stepped towards the stone circle.

---

Atticus had expected emotions to run high following his inquiry, but even in spite of his expectations he still felt frustration grow within his stomach. He noted to himself that it was foolish for him to channel emotion in that manner, because the concerns raised were not invalid. Many here had not known Max at all, nor did they fully realize the level of sacrifice the sorcerer had made for not only Bain & Hoyle, but indeed the world. Henry attempted to explain this, but even despite the Siren’s clear speech, the details were found to be lost upon some.

He remained silent, watching the flow of the conversation before him. His intuition had been correct to ask her here. Despite his status in the Company, his sway over such powerful creatures as those gathered before him was as fragile and thin as the paper he had written upon to call them here. She, on the other hand, had the light of the first days still glittering in her eyes, and if she could not give credence to his endeavor, than none could.

His eyes fell to Siya as she appeared in front of him with her unnatural speed. The crimson of his eyes shone with happiness at her choice to come with him, and he gave her a broad smile and a wink.

“I am most relieved to hear it, petit prédateur .” Atticus reached out to gently pull her beside him, orienting her towards the far side of the stone circle. He leaned close to her, his eyes not leaving the darkness beyond the heads of the arguing group. “You’re going to want to see this,” he whispered to her, the smile on his face growing larger still.

---

She stepped from out of the gloom, her footfalls soft and utterly silent upon the dense grass and earth. As she reached the edge of the stones, she seemed to illuminate the area with a faint glow that shifted gently between pastel hues of the rainbow. Her height of almost seven feet tall put her well above most of the onlookers, and she looked down upon them with eyes of soft, translucent silver. Jet-black hair, utterly smooth and shimmering, cascaded down to the level of her collar bone, framing a face of exquisite beauty so striking it seemed to add light to the air. She was regaled in a form fitting dress of woven linen, with elaborate bands of gold and jewels across her neck, bare upper arms, and around her wrists. Though her figure was as flawless as her face, she did not exude sexuality. Instead, her visage projected a sense of calm, enduring beauty, like that of a mountain, an ocean, or the very stars above.

With a final step of her bare feet, she stopped in front of the group. Bringing her hands across her chest and closing her eyes, she bowed her head slightly.

“Greetings, to all of you,” she said, her voice echoing deeply within the circle, seemingly issuing from inside the very bodies of the listener. “I go by many names, from many tongues, but you may know me as Isis.”

She reached out a hand towards the incubus, her movements slow and almost trance-like. “Atticus asked me here to bring ease to your minds regarding the recovery of my brother’s ankh, as well as the resurrection of your colleague.”

“Long ago, after my brother Osiris was betrayed and murdered by the chaos god, Set, I endeavored to bring him back to life. I gathered the pieces of his body and soul, and brought them together. Though I had the parts of Osiris, it wasn’t until I created the Key of Life--the ankh you seek--to ultimately fuse his body and soul into one that I was finally successful in returning my brother from the waters of death.”

Her eyes drifted throughout the crowd, catching the gaze of each that looked to her. “Once Osiris returned, the ankh was lost. After thousands of years of searching, I discovered that Set had stolen the ankh after Osiris’ resurrection, though I could never glean where the chaos-god had hidden it.” Isis pointed towards the piece of paper with the map upon it. “It wasn’t until Atticus discovered the map that the location was at last known. Initially he came to me, asking if with my divine power I could retrieve the ankh, and grant him use of it to return this ‘Max’ to your realm.”

“It turns out that Set had the Key of Life buried deep in a realm where no god of Egypt can reach on their own accord. As such, I could not retrieve the ankh myself, at least not directly.” Isis opened her arms to encompass the whole stone circle. “This is where Atticus and I reached an agreement, and where your services are required. As I cannot remove the ankh myself, I will guide you in retrieving it as best I can. Once returned I will use the Key of Life to bring your friend back to you. In turn, once Max’s resurrection is complete, I will take possession of the ankh.” The god’s eyes affixed upon that of the giant’s, her expression soft. “It is then that you will also receive your just rewards for your service.”

“Now,” Isis said, her mouth moving into a calming smile as she addressed all gathered, “what say you? We haven’t much time before Set discovers that we possess this invaluable knowledge.”

---

Atticus leaned back towards Siya, his eyes affixed on the magnetic face of the Egyptian goddess of magic and fertility, an awed expression upon his face. “I fucking love this job.”

Sethan eyed the goings-on patiently, his arms crossed in front of him and a reserved expression on his chiseled features. The appearance of Isis meant little to him; he had always scorned the gods which the Egyptians had worshipped, and saw them as little more than dangerous lunatics. If Sethan was actually any sort of son of Ra, he was a bastard at best. The presence of the "mother of the Nile" only confirmed Sethan's suspicion that this "ankh" they sought was actually the divine phallus of her brother-husband. How very uncouth. Regardless, he now had to take the time to talk out the details of this expedition with its architect, Atticus.

Sethan motioned to the demon from afar. "Atticus, if I may have a word?"

Walking a fair few paces away from the stone circle, he eyed Isis distrustingly as Atticus joined him. Sethan clenched his fist, and the pressure of the air around them shifted dramatically. A miniature cyclone of wind a dust formed around the two of them, which howled like a chorus of the damned. In Arabic, this was known as Al Azif, the sounds of night. While it would not protect their conversation from divine ears, all other eavesdroppers would be sufficiently dissuaded.

Sethan again crossed his arms and spoke in a low and serious tone to Atticus. "I needn't comment on why you asked me here this evening, so I will get straight to the point. I will manage this treasure hunt for you, and you will have your friend back." He held up a hand before continuing. "Though I do not want you to misunderstand; I have empathy for you and your subordinates, but I am fulfilling a personal matter in my homeland. This 'Max' will be resurrected, but only as long as you keep my presence in Egypt under wraps. Bain and Holye, they do not want me returning home. Why, I do not know, but you must not let them know I am there until my business is finished. This is all I ask of you."

Atticus looked up to the dead king, suspicion clearly forming behind his eyes. “All you ask of me? What I am doing for Max is nothing against the direction of the Company, it is simply not under their direction. You are asking me to willingly go against an agreement that you made as a condition of B&H bringing you back into this world. This is no mean request you are making of me, Sethan.”

The mummy's jaw tightened and lips pressed together before explaining himself. "There was no 'agreement,' my friend. They have used idle threats and bureaucracy to keep me in their palm, and I frankly tire of it." His expression then softened as he locked eyes with Atticus. "I owe them my life as well as you do, but my life is still my own. I must find what they are keeping from me. I am a man without a past, and a king without a kingdom. Do you know what it is to be stripped of all that makes a man himself?"

The incubus' brow knitted together as he closely examined Sethan's face, studying him for any possible traces of treachery or deceit. “Listen,” he said, releasing the breath he had been holding, “Sethan, I have sympathy for what you have lost. I can't say I know what that’s like, but I do know what it’s like to live without knowing who or what you are.” His voiced lowered and his tone softened as he tried to reason with the other man. “My friend, it pains me to say, but what will returning truly gain you? With your kingdom gone, what is left for you there?”

Again, Sethan's expression stiffened with his conviction. "I want, no, I need to know why, Atticus. These... voids in my memory, they gnaw at me from within. I feel like I am not all here, and that most of me died with my kingdom." His eyes darkened as he found himself at a loss for words, unable to further express his internal suffering. "Perhaps I will find peace, perhaps not, but at the very least I will know the reason for Irem's fall."

Atticus gave a long pause, still carefully watching the other man, his own uneasy thoughts visible in his expression. “If I do this, no one must know that I let you go willingly.”

"Worry not." He held his hand up again, now as a sign of assurance. "If I find what I need, I will make sure that there is nothing to connect the two of us." He paused, before a slight smile worked its way onto his face. "Perhaps someday, as I build the foundation for New Irem, you could be there with me; sowing the seeds and laying the bricks."

“Someday, perhaps,” Atticus returned his tentative smile, knowing that this was the closest thing to an acknowledgement of true gratitude that he would receive from the mummy, “I suppose I may grow tired of this job in due time, and a change might be pleasant.” He extended a hand to Sethan. “You have my word. Do what you must, and your secret will be safe with me. I will do what I can on my end to keep B&H off your trail. But make no mistake Sethan, I will not betray Reginald Hoyle’s trust. I have my own convictions to uphold.”

Rather than shake his hand as they did earlier, Sethan took the demon's hand in his two and leaned down to place a kiss on his knuckles. He returned to his feet, and though he said nothing, stared Atticus dead in the eye with an expression of pure solidarity. With a wave of his hand, the small cyclone vanished, and Sethan wandered back to the stone circle, though still trying to avoid the gaze of Isis.

Distraction offered. Attention caught. I had been just upon the verge of working up a few more words to add to the conversation when Atticus' whistle went screaming through the air, scattered my thoughts and left me making a hasty apology and polite nod to the Dryad and Druid before I turned and made my way a little more toward the centre of the circle; words, emotions – the delicacy of the moment flowed around me in a different way, memories brought forth all in an instant as the world morphed and swirled inward.

“Squeeze, Nestor dear... just a little harder...” I growl beneath my breath. Release the tension in my hand. And suddenly find my fingers refusing to move – rather, one by one they tighten their hold. My eyes narrow. My breath holds. A single digit begins the agonizing push toward the cocked hair trigger...

Nestor starts, eyes blinking rapidly several times as he darts a furtive glance to either side. He mouths a few words under his breath – quietly, barely audible even to those standing nearby.

“Stop that!”

“But don't you remember...? Mmm – He was alone, Nestor Dear: no one would have known. A strong soul. A beautiful soul.” There is something disturbing in the way she pronounces the word 'beautiful'; each syllable stressed as though it were a word in and of itself. My vision begins to darken again. I clench both fists, set my jaw – my gaze darts toward Veti, gauging the Werewolf's response: reasonably restrained, in light of the circumstances. Another whisper in my ear:

“The Giant is lucky, don't you think? Considering the moon is in his favour tonight...” I can't help but offer a marginal smirk in response, one swiftly cut short in annoyance as her own chuckling overwhelms my amusement; like the shattering of glass in a quiet room, I scowl into the empty space of air just in front of me until the noise goes silent. And then I look toward Veti again, just in time to see her – no, not her, but me!– remove the mask, speak words I cannot hear but already know far too well.

Nestor passes a hand before his eyes, looks toward Atticus and announces:

“I keep my promises, Atticus – you might doubtless guess the answer before I give it. I will seek with the others for Max.” Though in the brief silence following his words, a quiet remark fills the space where Veti – and those nearest her – might hear.

“I warned you once, Wolf Girl – for his friends it never ends well; history repeats itself many times, lesson never learnt. One eye always opened...” Here the words trail off into an inconspicuous whisper: “...There are always those who keep enemies closer than friends...”

But Nestor falls quiet after this, not seeking to interrupt – brow furrowed and curiosity piqued with the arrival of the being calling herself 'Isis'. Whatever thoughts or opinions he might have on her words, he appears perfectly content to keep to himself at present.

"Oh Siya... " Veti muttered under her breath, two simple words, three syllables laden with a world of emotions unspoken. She swiped impatiently at the tears on her cheeks with the heels of her palms for the second time in a single night, though she did nothing this time to hide them away. Still the smile on the werewolf's face was as genuine - if a touch wistful - as any she'd worn in some time. But Siya had dashed away, a beeline to Atticus, before she'd even had a chance to say a word - and she had some for her beloved friend, the little vampiress. She did.

'You don't belong in the shadows Siya. No matter what you think, you never did. You were made to shimmer, and glow - tender, terrible grace in the moonlight. The shadows don't suit you. Not anymore.'

The strangest feeling rolled through her gut as she looked to the incubus, eyes narrowing thoughtfully though the smile didn't dim in the least. Bittersweet really, this moment, love and pride and fear and longing all roiling and indistinguishable in her heart. 'You'd better take care of her, you magnificent bastard. You leave her alone again, make her cry those blood-tinged tears for any reason, and I don't care where I'm at. Dead. Alive. Undead. Whatever. I will come for you, and make you wistful for the deepest, darkest circle of Hell.'

Veti felt the warmth of fur beneath her fingers, running gently over the dark, furred head of Artie the hellhound. The werewolf felt a little bad, that for all his hopeful nosing at her jacket, Veti hadn't thought to tuck a squeaky toy away, but there'd really only been room for the Desert Eagle in its holster under the leather and sweat jacket.

"So sorry big guy," Veti whispered as she knelt beside the hellhound, wrapping her arms around his thick, warm neck for a warm hug before setting back, letting her fingers scratch all about his heavily-muscled ruff in a way that, she liked to imagine, most all canines of virtually any variety found delicious - even eight-foot tall werewolves of the reddish variety on occasion.

"I got nothing for you tonight Artie, totally my fault. Yes it is!" she whispered, her voice slipping oh-so-easily into that ridiculous baby talk reserved just for dogs, who never failed to wiggle and wag with delight at the very sound. "Veti's a very bad wolf, yes I am! All my fault!"

Veti had no idea if Artie ever really understood her, but she liked to believe he did. Sometimes she even half-suspected he was humoring her as much as anything, letting her bring him squeaky toys and eat the food she couldn't bring herself to finish, slipped beneath the table, and even sleep in her bed with her, a precious warm, furry body complete with funky doggy breath that never complained when she cuddled him close. Oh, she knew very well what Artie was beneath the unending variety of dog guises, had seen him in all his gory, dripping, oozing, flaming glory the very last night she'd spent with Max.

But Veti didn't mind if Artie didn't. And he never seemed to, nor did Daisy.

Daisy...

Veti sighed as her eyes lifted to the young Reaper - or at the least, Veti really couldn't think of her any other way, than "young." She had no idea how old Daisy might really be, and she suspected Daisy might not either. But Daisy was definitely just 'girl' enough, that Veti had long-recognized the tightrope over "vulnerable" and "tough" the young Reaper tried to walk every day. Even now.

But Veti could almost feel how brittle that high, sharp edge Daisy walked was becoming, with every word shot from her lips like broken glass.

"Who's the most adorable little hellhound in the whole wide world? Who is, hmm? WHO is? You are! Artie is! Artie's a good boy, oh yes you are!" Veti kissed the top of his head lightly, grinning as one enormous paw slammed the ground in time with her scratches.

"You know she needs you more than I do right now, don't you boy?" Artie didn't answer of course, but there may have been a glint of recognition in those eyes. "C'mon, let's go hang with Daisy a bit, yeah?" The hellhound didn't protest - not that he ever did, and Veti stood to her feet once more.

Her eyes roved over the vast array of those who had thrown in their lot to bring back Max, some for reasons she could see very well - though others? Their decisions seemed unfathomable.

Very near as unfathomable as the ebony skin, the night-dark eyes she was suddenly sure were set behind the sunglasses the golem wore. His powerful voice, the first among those gathered to speak his simple assent, still rumbled through her belly. Her neck craned as she looked up at him, reaching forward to take one of his enormous hands in hers, squeezing gently. The werewolf was no petite, frail flower of womanhood by any stretch, but even her fingers barely wrapped about his.

Why she was surprised to discover his skin was so warm, Veti couldn't have said. "Thank you," she said to him, smiling up at him widely. "Veti. Please, call me Veti." She would have dearly loved to stay, to unravel even a little of the mystery of the first golem she'd ever laid eyes on, but there were simply too many gathered, to many words spoken to linger.

"Semyon... " Veti leaned forward to kiss the wight easily on each cheek, not in the least off-put by his cool gray skin nor gaunt, skeletal appearance. Unstoppable. Relentless as a Russian winter - that was always her impression of Semyon Makarov, and she respected the man's work. "It's been too long - far too long. I cannot thank you enough, and I suppose we can both only pray the Library will be all that legends whisper."

"And Mila... " Another one whose motivations she couldn't begin to guess, why a Rusalka would ever agree to come to the middle of a desert, to help recover the soul of a man she'd never known, was a complete mystery to Veti. She could only hope to learn in time - there would be no aid turned away when it came to bringing Max home. "You are kind... And yes, Max is very, very dear to me. Mila, have you met Semyon? Semyon Makarov?"

The introductions were necessarily short, swift, before the werewolf moved on yet again with Artie, making her way to the Reaper as she moved through the crowd. Veti couldn't be bothered at the moment, to make the further acquaintance of the rule-abiding, self-important dragon woman, nor the ever-questioning dryad and druid, nor even the giant who'd earned her ire mere moments before - though she did glance at Anselm the Giant as she passed.

"Good enough then," she said with a curt nod. "You don't know me, or Max, and I don't know you either - no hard feelings. But you'd damn well better give your all to Reginald Hoyle. He's a good man. The best. Worthy of every cent you'll ever be paid, for the next ten millenium. And I'll know if you don't. A dear friend of mine just suggested that if get Max back, he and I should just disappear somewhere warm."

Veti chuckled softly to herself. No, not for the giant's sake, but simply because she was still a little overwhelmed, a little incredulous that such an idea would even be possible here, now, in the space of a few short minutes. "Yeah, well that's not going to happen. If we find him before Mr. Hoyle's job is complete? Oh, we'll be on our way... " One eyebrow arched in silent promise before she turned to the demonspawn.

"Nestor," Veti said softly and, just this once, before he could slide away or slip away, Veti wrapped her arms around him tightly in a warm embrace, kissing his cheek affectionately. Oh, she'd heard his demon soul, the cold woman's voice always hissing dire warnings and prophecies of doom in her ear whenever he'd been about. But never, not ever once did she ascribe what happened to Max, to a single thing done by the demonspawn - any more than she blamed Daisy, or Atticus or any of them. The werewolf knew damn well all it would have ever taken to keep Max from taking that job, would have been her objection. She could have done it, kept him with her, if she'd fought hard enough. If she loved the man beneath that rough exterior any less than she did.

Veti let Nestor go just as swiftly as she'd snatched him, stepping away with a mischievous smile before she turned to the man's demon soul - or where she might make an educated guess, toward the apparent source of that disembodied voice. Veti's smile disappeared utterly, replaced in an instant with an exasperated little frown. "Yes yes yes, Wolf girl is so warned. Again. Thanks. But you need to know, I am done with riddles and portents and doom and gloom and every other damn thing that comes from you - whatever your name is. Shit, what the hell IS your name, anyway?"

"We're all a little dangerous, demoness, but if there's something I need to know? Speak plainly. You can start with a name - yours, obviously - and then we'll go straight to girl talk. Really, some of my best friends are demons! But I'm about done in with esoteric hints, and I've got no time for unraveling endless riddles. Call me, yeah?" She gave the frigid air a wide grin, thumb to her ear, fingers folded and pinky to her lips in the universal hand sign for "phone," mouthing the words 'call me' before turning to continue her seemingly endless trek to Daisy - though she was getting close.

The werewolf's attention turned to the... Elven necromancer? Well then, that was.... Unexpected. It didn't take giant scads of imagination to see why such a being would grate the hell out of the Reaper's last nerve, as if Daisy wasn't already on edge anyway. The werewolf was still at a bit of a loss herself, what the lady's final answer truly was regarding whether she would be going to Alexandria, or onward to help Hoyle, but Veti smiled and nodded at the woman politely nonetheless.

That is, of course, as she crossed her arms over her chest, sliding along one side of the candy-colored harbinger of death, Artie on the other. She leaned back against the stone just as Daisy did, able to sulk - no, brood - with the very best of them, and nudged the Reaper's shoulder with her own, a great big, playful grin on her face. "I don't like satires," Veti whispered, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally. "I really kinda prefer Disney movies - you know 'Tangled?' Yeah, a serious thing for Flynn... Don't ask. I think it's a 'bad boy' thing. I kinda got that, you know."

She leaned down to nudge Daisy's shoulder yet again, chuckling like a really naughty child about to do the bad thing, determined to pester the not-so-silent fury from the Reaper's tense, angry, hurting self.

But then an ancient goddess showed up, and the whole world instantly... Changed. Veti's eyes widened with an almost-childlike wonder, holding her breath in stunned, rapt amazement.

Atticus brought... A goddess?

A goddess!?

Veti's hand flew to her mouth, covering her lips as Isis spoke, and the werewolf's heart sang. A goddess.

Isis knew Max's name. Isis. Seeing friends and even complete strangers step up to say they would help bring back Max had been heartening, encouraging. Hearing the goddess speak though, hearing his name on her lips? Her soul was rapt.

Isis was like no other being Raleigh had ever encountered. Who would have thought at such a large gathering of supernatural entities would be eclipsed by a singular presence; a deity. Raleigh thought gods and goddesses were the work of folklore and religion, hell, he had been made one of sorts by the Celts in his prior life. But she was the real deal. The rainbow nimbus that radiated from her skin was just like the depictions of angels from medieval illuminations. It cascaded holy light over the stones that seemed to glow with magical energy. Raleigh had an overwhelming desire to see him with his true eyes, see her naked heavenly spirit. It felt heretical to deceive her with magic; she was the patroness of magic and nature. She looked in his eyes, eyes of nectar, liquid silver. He was beckoned, he morphed.

He always forgot how great it was to feel the fresh air on his coat, feel the thick russet hairs dance in the breeze. He stood just over nine feet tall, though was level height with the goddess, his impressive antlers making up the remaining two feet. His clothes lay in tatters by his hooves, victims of his abrupt transformation. His senses were awakened, as if his consciousness pulsed radially outwards to impossible reaches and detected the slightest flap of a fly’s wing. Smell was practically a sixth sense, operating in a dimension humanity could not possibly comprehend. The true sixth sense however, the ability to “see” and commune with spirits, offered a lens through which the hidden world of the spirits could be seen. Raleigh saw into the heart of Isis and was blinded by the brilliance.

Never had he seen a soul shine so brightly. He had to look away; it burnt his rectangular retinas like magnesium to fire. Never had he felt such an allure to a soul, not since Lena.

Raleigh regained his senses, ashamed that he had acted without thinking first. Isis answered his questions to an extent and his heart waned for her. No, this was not rational. He was a being of science, logical and rational thought. The pros and cons of the mission must be weighed. If they did recover the ankh, how was he to know this goddess would not abuse its power, however unlikely this seemed. Could he trust this stranger, goddess or not? Raleigh had had his fill of treachery.

He looked to Atticus before he changed his mind. Mr. Hoyle. “I will go on Mr. Hoyle's mission with you.” The next two words were a great release, the two syllables carrying all the weight of his world. “Old friend.”

Anselm Dunn - Giant of Albion

As the discussions went on, Dunn's thoughts diverted. For the first time in weeks, he found himself thinking about his research. He wondered if he would ever break his curse. Weakening it had lit his hopes, but in the centuries that had gone since then he had made little progress. The transformation was incredibly painful and primitive, and he knew that his way of weakening the curse had been against whatever rules and laws of magic there was. It was indeed possible that he had strengthened the curse rather than weakening it, even though he could now for the shortest of moments regain his heritage. His human body grew older with quicker speed than ever before, or so he imagined. He knew he had had a full head of hair a mere century ago, and he new others found him strikingly handsome half a millennium ago. Half a millennium. He wondered, as he had done thousands of times before, what would happen if - when - he lifted the curse. Would he be a giant once more, or was it the curse that kept him alive for all these years? Would he be giant once again, yet a weak, old and decrepit version of his former self, as his human form was now? Or would something else happen, for better or worse? Dunn sighed and massaged his forehead with his fingers, ending such thoughts.

Darkness had crept up on the gathering in Ardgroom. It wasn't raining, but the earth, plant life as well as air were moist and cold. Dunn couldn't see it, but he was certain mist had arrived, driven in from the coastline. Yet when the goddess appeared, Dunn could feel the mist dispersing, he could feel her radiance warming his wrinkled old skin, and when she gazed directly into his eyes, Dunn was unable to look away. What a magnificent being she was. Dunn had as far as he knew never met a deity before, nor cared to, but Isis very much fit the lofty and dreamy descriptions others had given of gods. Yet in spite of that, Dunn was unmoved by her story. The ankh held no meaning to him. He had already made his decision not to join the group heading for Egypt, when Isis suddenly spoke to him.
“It is then that you will also receive your just rewards for your service.” she said, before turning to address the crowd. Dunn drew a heavy breath, head tilted upwards and mouth open with one hand stroking his chin. Just rewards? What might the Egyptian goddess of slaves and sinners deem a just reward? Was she honest or deceptive? For all he knew, a "just reward" might just kill him. Still, she was a goddess, with powers unknown to him. Would she be able to lift his curse, or at least provide help? Might the ankh be capable of such things? With these thoughts circling in his head, Dunn made the only decision there was.
"Very well, then. I shall help you find the ankh." the giant said, eyes still fixed on the goddess as he tried to figure her out.

Dr Kinnon Blair- Immortal Druid

The group was seperating. That was the first thought that Kinn managed to put together, his insides felt like they were on fire and he had to fight down the urge to throw up.
The group was seperating and he still did not know why they were all here.

Kinn found his centre, he felt the strength of the earth through his feet, the power of the wind surrounding him and the comfort of the bodies of water nearby. He knew that he would not go, could not go with those that were going to Egypt. The final straw had been the appearance of a Goddess. He understood that there were many more than the deity he worshipped, indeed had even thought Raleigh to be one when he had first witnessed the Dryad's "rebirth". But this seemed like an affront to him. This woman, naked and radiant, enveloped in an aura that would have blinded him if he were still mortal. Watching her he saw her eyes flicker to his then move on as if discarding him. It was then that he knew the truth of the matter, she had not bothered with him because she saw into his heart and knew that he was not going to be swayed.

After watching Raleigh's transformation, Kinn knew his long time friend was going to be with him in this endeavor. He knew too that Raleigh would understand his own reasoning for not going. It was still difficult to say but he knew it would have to be said. He cleared his throat and walked up to Atticus.

"We were called here for a company reason, so far we are already divided by those that wish to help bring back this lost man, and those that wish to keep their contracts, jobs, or word with the company. I would like to know why I have been called here, unlike the rest of you, I have hardly any experience in actual field work and even less in combat. I will not be going to Egypt as I do not feel that is the best option for me."

He turned to face Raleigh before he spoke to those who had already made up their minds.

"I wish you all a successful hunt and a swift return."

His words had failed to properly reach the ears of others, it had not come to much of a shock to him. Beings older them him were instilled with a stubborn belief of perpetual self worth. The giant showed no romorse, no real waver. Oh how infurating this all was. Of course they would not follow by his words alone. They had never known Max, and they all had their own doubts and fears. They all had agendas, every single one of them. And was henry any better? Of course not, he had joined the company to protect himself from someone. But it didn't stop the cold anger from swelling up inside his heart, a tidal wave of emotion that wanted to snare the giant in words of power and force him to kneel before them. Of course, he didn't because the Giant, while obtrusive and blunt, was not of ill will. He simply looked after himself, he merely worked for the company and even though he was likely wrong about Hoyles conviction towards his employees Henry. But words were wasted now. He let others speak their piece as he felt strangely exhausted at his own inability.

The Dryad spoke shortly after him and his concerns was most understandable, there needed to be some sort of guarante. Henry listened carefully, he himself wondered about the specifics regarding this whole deal. Atticus had been somewhat vague with Henry, and he wasn't to keen on being kept in the dark. Especially not by his best friend and the one person who he trusted with all his heart.

The words of the necromancer was next and Henry paid her no mind what so ever. It was more of the same. And the dragon spoke after that, her stubborn adherence to the rules was admirable if a bit misplaced at the moment. Henry almost felt bitter about the whole thing. It was around this time Daisy decided that enough was enough and Henry felt a wave of pity and sadness hit him, they were dragging that girl trough so much muck and trouble with this it wasn't even funny anymore. He wanted to help, but Veti was there before he could act. Veti who just had shared what seemed to be heartbreaking words with Siya. Fates were disentangling and entwining freely it seemed. A sign of great upheaval if he ever saw one.

And as if on cue, the heavies of weights on the scales of fate appeared. A goddess. Isis.

Now there was a name and a being he never thought he'd ever have the chance to meet or see in the flesh. The ancient goddess shone, shone like beacon amongst the myriad of fluctuating and fleeting auras and minds. She was overpowering and the Näck tried not to grin at Atticus reaction to the Goddess entrence. It was a good thing he was a being of the elements, or this meeting would be to much for him. It seemed that her presence swayed some, but clearly not all present. That said, Veti obviously went for that tiny sliver of hope the Ankh represented and Siya went to the side of the Incibus. And Mila, suprisingly went with Veti, a desert was no place for a water spirit, Henry cought himself shaking his head.

“I am apperntly needed elsewhere.” Henry mumbled to himself.

“If you need my aid old friend, you know I got your back Atticus.”

Anastasia was taken aback by the pink haired women's response. Her eyes set aflame as she tried to keep her cool. She would admit, her rant did sound quit scripted but Anastasia was not one to speak out ever because of reactions that this...women - if she could be refereed to as such- presented her. She felt her eyes flame, the green fire dancing from her now angry glare to the women.

Voices swimming in her mind, cries of pain, sorrow ..anger. she took a few deep breaths but it was no use her necromancer powers were to far surfaced to hide. Her hands were glowing with a cloud like magic, illuminating the same green from her eyes as it traveled up her arms slowly. Enveloping her hand and forearm in a misty green smoke she sucked in her breath as the women stepped in front of her with her hand extended.

Anastasia flashed her a half grin " You really, don't want to mess with me little girl." she said to her after she exploded with laughter. Trying to pull herself back she clenched hands into fists.As she tried to harness her powers the grass under her feet slowly began to die and wither.

Frankly she was getting more then tried of this situation as time passed. No matter what did or said seemed to be even noticed. She was being over looked like she had been so many times before. If she was so over looks and unimportant to the people around her then perhaps this journey was not one she cared to take. Why would she waste her time on a group of selfish individuals who couldn't see past their noses.

The women stank of death, she figured the child was a reaper from the moment she saw her. figures, a brat like her would be a reaper.
Closing her eyes she tried to ignore the women and the people around her who disregard anything she says.

Opening them slowly her eyes scanned the group of demons and other folk before her. The only one to show her some form of kindness was Nestor, and from what she could see he too had a connection to the dead. The women who haunted him was clear as day to her. She could see her talking to him and veti. It was interesting to her that this women was able to speak to others who were not connected to the dead like her and apparently Nestor.

Everyone else how ever showed her not even a spec of interest in conversation. She knew they all heard her but not one even commented, accept for the small child. She was getting aggravated.

Then Isis showed up, rolling her eyes at the doom and gloom of the goddesses words she sighed heavily crossing her arms. the touch of her hands to her top fore arms spread the clouded mist like wild fire as it engulfed her shoulders and up around her face.
under her breath she made a comment while slowly shaking her head to herself. She spoke in her native tongue

"Þú getur held ég er einn að einfaldlega sjást í tíma og þú munt sjá mikilvægi mína og óska ​​hjálp mína .... og ég mun vera fús til að lækka, svo þá get ég yfir að líta á mikilvægi existances þínum."

-You may think i am one to simply overlook, in time you will see my importance and wish my help.... and i will be happy to decline, so then i can over look the importance of your existences.-

She clenched her jaw tightly as she watched the others react the the goddess who just arrived.

The Demonspawn appears so taken off guard by Veti's (well meaning) assault, that for a moment he simply stands in something akin to a state of shock – his head tilts to the side, his mouth opens a hair as though he might speak – and it is the Demoness who saves him the awkwardness of the moment, revealing herself just in time to offer the hapless man a devilish smirk, and then a wink toward Veti before exclaiming with a delighted clap of icy hands:

“Questions, questions – oooh how Nestor loves questions; he may be jealous, you know, that this one is for me?” Here she peers sidelong at her discomfited partner, the corners of her lips quirking diagonally once again; he glares right back in return. “But you have the answer, of course!” She gives a sly grin at this, a mouthful of crystalline fangs gleaning for an instant before her features morph into something more approachable, more human... softer, different, and with it – if only for the space of a few moments – her demeanour as well:

“But I am he and he is me, and together we are one; but all he lacks I stand to gain, and all I am he bears with shame...” Here Nestor, seeming to have regained a little of his composure, gives a brusque wave of dismissal in the direction of the Demoness, offering instead to Veti:

“No, no... but rather imagine for a moment, Mistress Veti – imagine for a moment what might occur, were a man to name first his Soul over Himself. I” – here he gestures pointedly to himself – a useless motion, but apparently he seems caught up in the moment – “ Am Nestor Grimsley; She” – again, this time his right finger, almost accusatory, thrust out toward the bristling Demoness – “Is no one. Nothing. Emptiness. Just as I would be were it to be the other way around.” An ominous – if muted – snarl follows his words, along with the exclamation:

"See, jealous! Nothing indeed... I see how it is, Nestor..." and quite suddenly the Demoness is nowhere to be seen. With her departure, Nestor frowns – seeming troubled for the briefest of moments, before giving a relieved sigh and remarking – almost as though his words of a moment ago had never been spoken at all – “Yet it would do me well, to see the both of you as one again; and don't mind her – Demons have their time of the month too...”

As the elvish necromancer began to fuss and fit, Sethan took it upon himself to ease her discomfort. Only now had he actually taken the time to notice what the rest of the assembly was getting up to, and was none to pleased to find that they were on the verge of blows. The precipice of their expedition was not a time to be bickering, and so any tensions needed to be resolved as quickly and painlessly as possible. He may not have possessed the wisdom of Solomon to diffuse their argument (despite having about two thousand years of age on the man), but there was a certain something that he could manage.

He strode up behind Anastasia and boldly laid his hands on her shoulders before drawing her close to him. He worked his thumbs into her upper back, seeking to relax her tensed muscles, and shared with her the warmth of his glamoured body. He wordlessly massaged the elvish girl for a few moments, before drawing even closer to her in what was essentially an intimate embrace, his sturdy frame enveloping the smaller woman. He held her close, and with his free hand stroked her jawline with the cool metal of his gilded hand as he turned to speak to her.

"Easy, now. Let us be calm; we are all allies. Misunderstandings are to be forgiven and resolved. There is no reward in quarreling." Sethan said softly, almost whispering in her ear.

Sulking in her anger towards the current situation she was blinded by anything else going on around her. She didn't notice Sethan walking up behind her but she was pulled out of her sulking state when she felt a large hand on her tiny shoulders. Tensing even more at the touch she felt her body being pulled into a rather large male who stood behind her. she sucked her breath in as she felt his thumbs working into her back, truthfully she never felt anything better. she felt his large hands massaging her trying to get rid of the tense feeling that flooded her body. She felt her shoulders relax as her arms which were crossed dropped down in front of her as he body turned into butter.
She rolled her shoulders as she could feel the green mist disappeared. She as overly grateful for who ever this mysterious person was. She felt his hands dropped and wrap around her, instinctively she squirmed trying to get out of his grasp but he was much larger then her and fighting it was making it difficult. It took her a few moments to realize he was hugging her...embracing her. Truthfully she had never been embraced, hugging was a taboo in elven communities. They had different ways of showing any for of affection or greeting to other people.

she could feel her body tense more then before as he hugged her, unsure of how to respond she looked around a bit confused. Was this normal?
She relaxed once more when he spoke to her his words showed a form of comfort to her. She smiled at him an nodded lightly, as her hair faded from black into its white natural form.

She gave him a small smile , one that showed much gratitude.

" I did not realize when i was requested to accompany this journey , how much baggage they all carry. It is quite infuriating seeing so many loose ties, and unjustified anger towards people whom they have never laid eyes upon."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly.

" I thank you kind sir, it was getting harder to keep my powers at bay... I am afraid I am not familiar with your name, mine is Anastasia...the necromancer."

She left out her being an elf purposefully, she hated being known as an elf.

Daisy saw Veti coming from a mile away, and immediately began efforts to look cool and sullen and unaffected by the utter bullshit raging on around her.

There never should have been a second option. Anyone who knew Max didn't need to choose, and anyone who didn't shouldn't have been able to. It wasn't even that she liked Max -- so maybe she wasn't being quite so objective as she'd hoped, not that objectivity was ever something Daisy had excelled at -- but she'd been there. Close. Closer than close, wading their, ankle deep at the Gates, watching Max ripped away from life. From Veti.

And she'd seen Veti crumble, day by day for a year now. Fucking idiots. You didn't have to be a Reaper to see it. Maybe the necromancer was blind. But the others shouldn't have been. Leaving Max would kill Veti, too. And Daisy was so not about that. She liked Veti. She owed Veti. And she and Siya --

...were about to have a massive fucking falling out.

A year. A year they'd quietly put up with each other, with not so much as a cold glance in Veti's presence, and little else besides. Daisy had only ever been part of two teams before. The first had gotten Max killed. The second had tried to save Veti's life, and for a year, it had worked. They weren't friends, but there was a camaraderie there, two tiny soldier fields left on a battlefield of sanity where any next roll of the die could set the whole damn thing aflame.

And now she was backing out.

Daisy gaped, as openly stunned as any of the others who'd seen Max die. Atticus was hot. A little stiff, kind of clueless, but hot. But Daisy doubted Jesus Christ could be that good of a lay.

So, what was it? A year of silent suffering by Veti's side, and Tiny Vamp up and leaves at the first opportunity? To serve the man who had stood silently by as Max had been ordered to Death? As Daisy had been ordered to kill the lover of the only friend she'd ever known?

Siya and Daisy weren't friends on the best of days. Tiny Vamp didn't owe Daisy shit, and there wasn't much she wanted from the bitty parasite. But Veti...Veti...

"Great," Daisy muttered to herself as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Tiny Vamp had just betrayed her best friend. And maybe Daisy, too. "One more for team Long Dick of the Law."

She continued to stare straight ahead, temper burned out by her brief outburst. She caught Henry looking at her and almost sort of smiled reluctantly. It was harder to ogle at him now (well. Sort of). She saw him as kind of a friend after their last mission. A confidante, at the very least. It was weird to like him and not want to mount him behind a giant rock. Though that method of coercion seemed to have work well enough for Siya, so maybe there was something to be said for the ol' hot rock fuck.

She stopped smiling as she felt Artie and Veti post up on either side of her, silent sentries meant to turn off the brood. Of course. In the last year, she was pretty sure Veti had seen Artie more than she had. And she was fine for it. When he wasn't with her, sleeping, or eating, or playing with more chew toys than any sane dog owner ought to have access to, he was with Daisy, helping her search the deeper planes of Death for increasingly shorter periods of time. She had taken a year off, laid low. And now she was heading right back into the maw of the undead.

But for Veti? Well, whatever. Daisy wasn't the sentimental type, or so she'd told herself. But she'd try.

"Flynn Ryder," she said tersely, without looking at Veti, or even moving her lips more than she had to, "has nothing on Captain Shang. Just...ignore the Donny Osmond part, that's a turn off for -- "

Everything after that happened quickly. Henry ditched. Goddess showed. And Daisy wasn't generally into chicks, especially the kind that defied Death, but hot damn, emphasis on the hot.

And then the pouty elf was pouting, and Daisy was rolling her eyes, because everything was turned on its head, but if there was one thing she was good at, it was being catty.

The necromancer went on for a bit, finishing her whine with a little cheese, albeit in a language Daisy couldn't even pretend to understand. She waited patiently 'til she was finished, then looked right at her new friend and said, "No hablo fuckin' Español."

Whatever either of them had been about to say was lost as another attractive ruiner of all thing began to grope the elf. Daisy watched with equal parts interest and disgust. Yes. An alliance between the necromancer and the mummy as they set off to look for a 'key to life'. Get the Wight in here with a Red Bull spiked Fountain of Youth, and Daisy could have a fucking field day.

She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt, then made herself look at Veti. The next words were spoken only for the werewolf.

"And I'm going with you. I'm going to get Max back. I promise."

Mila smiled at Vet's words. She knew it seemed pretty weird for a water spirit to go to the desert. As long as she had her comb with her she would be fine for the most part. Veti introduced her to Seymon. She frowned slightly when she turned to loo at Mr Makarov. No offence to the undead, she was no more alive than he, but he looked well dead. He probably had a good couple of years on her so proper respect wasn't too much for her to muster. "I've heard about your work at Bain & Hoyle, you're very well respected Mr Makarov" She said perhaps a bit too stiffly. Sometimes her etiquette was outdated at best.

The arrival of the Egyptian mother Goddess didn't do much to draw the attention of the Rusalka. Mila had already decided in siding with the team to find the Ankh, the appearance of the Isis didn't sway her. She listened to the radiant Goddess speak, she was trying to convince the others to go to Egypt too. Her words were able to sway the reluctant but honest giant but failed to enlist some of the others. To each their own I guess. Everyone should be allowed to make their own choice. A Goddess trying to talk them into it seemed pretty pathetic to her. They all had their reasons and it was really nobody's business. Max had saved the world so they owed him? What about all the people who didn't know about his heroic deed? Did they owe him too? I don't think so. Her motivation was simple. It was clear Vet cared deeply for Max, even after his death. Something she could relate to. If there was a possibility to be together, they had to grab it with both hands. When Seymon and Veti spoke of the library in Alexandria she raised her brows and her ears perked up in curiosity. The chance was slim Egyptians had a lot of information on Rusalki but she'd gone through everything at Bain & Hoyle's library. It was her best bet and the opportunity presented itself to her on a golden platter.

Seeing as the necromancer girl was calming down, Sethan was greatly relieved. He released her and turned about to face her properly. His cooldown hug technique was actually a bit of a gamble, and had she not been compliant, at that range she could have rotted a limb or two off of him. That wouldn't have been pleasant, nor easy to fix. Modern necromancers never ceased to astound Sethan, but not in a good way. Their practices had evolved to become so uncleanly and obscene that necromancy had come to be known as a corruptive or taboo practice. This extended to much of magic as well; the art had degraded from its lofty origins to something dangerous and mistrusted, practiced only by iconoclasts. Truly the age of the sorcerer was long dead and buried.

Still, the young lady had the courtesy to introduce herself, and Sethan was one to reciprocate such a gesture. "I am Sethan, Son of Ra, Ruler of Souls, Twelfth in my dynasty," He said aloud, clear enough for those that he had not yet personally introduced himself to could hear. "Last King of Irem." He tacked on to the end of his already lengthy list of titles, though at this point he was facing vaguely in the direction of Isis. It would do well for the daughter of Nut to know that not all present had been cowed by her arrival.

Returning to face Anastasia, he completed his formal introduction, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said in plain English, as he had no idea what language she had been speaking earlier. Never the less, he preferred to make an impression on lovely young women, particularly those with potential in the arcane arts. He took her dainty hand in his own and placed a gentle kiss on her dainty fingers.

Though he very quickly turned his attention away from her, and back to the group as a whole, "Indeed, I shall join this voyage as well." He tried to pick a particular face out the the crowd to settle his focus on, and eventually decided on the most openly emotional person present, which was the red-haired woman. "I did not know your Max, but you can rest assured, whether it shall be to the depths of Duat or beyond, I shall set forth, and your friend will return. I swear this on the bones on my ancestors, and the Pillars of Irem." By the time he had finished making his glorious proclamation, his restraint on his aura was let loose, and she shone with all of his divine majesty, gold glittering, arms raised in dramatic triumph, and his fur coat billowing behind him.