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?"
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