Nameless Things

[MP]

The night guard landed on his back, sliding the last few steps to the bottom. Shoes squeaked over the polished floors as he scuffed and scrabbled there. He clawed at his shirt collar. Arched his back, pushing the smudged uniform skyward. Then he and the hallway both fell still. The moon shone down through the skylight, a flat pall over the space. As the sky grayed in and the streets hummed gradually to life, it slowly turned away. The silence lingered behind it like a stain.

There were fits of activity in between: the first discovery, the screams, the whirling lights and the ant-like bustle of investigation that followed. But these were distractions. Momentary. There would be no crowds after; no movement through the wing that day. A new set of rope barriers barred the hall to the archaeology exhibits, and the silence waited on the other side, a presence even through the artificial warmth of the lights. When those winked out, when the crowds and the outside hum of the streets had begun to fade with the evening, it came skulking out from the corners again. Axes and arrowheads grinned like teeth through the glass. A family of four watched from their glass cases, peering out through ceremonial tatters with identical wooden smiles. A line of painted masks and bulbous idols grimaced back. The moon flashed through the window like the light off a jackal's eye, and the museum lay still and most of all expectant. 

The approaching footsteps seemed to sense it. They were careful, almost hesitating, like the steps of some forest thing instead of glossy shoes. There was a pause, and they suddenly faded back the way they had come. The man was pacing, restless, not sure who to expect or when. He'd only been told to wait for them. If the investigators had wanted to look around again, it occurred to him with sudden uneasy anger, they should have done it while they were already here - during daylight hours.

[Pearl Dragon]

Stenson had arrived shortly before the investigators had, and was seated in his car waiting for the others to show up. As one car after another began to pull into the empty museum lot, he eventually cut the engine to his Charger and stepped out and made his way to the others. A group of them had formed, and Stenson simply checked in with the team before he was assigned his usual protective duties; basically to be present and stationed should anything go wrong. He'd been briefed on the known circumstances of the occurrences and murders, but otherwise would need to be on his toes since anything was possible in the supernatural world.

The museum worker, it seemed, was already out waiting for them. Judging by the fearful, nervous look in his eyes, there was definitely something uptight and anxious about the place.

As the lead security figure, Stenson made his way up the steps towards the man. "Officer Jones, I'll be with the on-site investigation team tonight overseeing security." He introduced himself and offered a hand for the man to shake. The man seemed shifty and as he shook Stenson's hand, Stenson could feel the cold clamminess of nerves coating his skin. Something definitely had this man on edge...

More cars pulled in, and Stenson stood with the man to wait for anyone else due to show up for the investigation.

[jarahamee]

Cassius stepped smoothly out of the unmarked black car he pulled up adjacent to the others. He carried a case in his left hand, and wore a sleek black suit and tie. His patented leather shoes were clearly not made for active pursuit or any kind of heavy duty activity.

He did not appear to have any obvious weapons, though he did have a hand radio on. He recognized Stenson (how could he not), and walked over to join him.

"Officer Jones. Officer Lucidus here. I brought some back up in case it is needed."

He studies the museum worker, his gaunt,scarred face difficult to read, tensely serious but grotesquely distorted by a scar that stretched the right side of his mouth upwards into a grim smile.

[NightshadeVII]

The consultant stood by the edge of the parking lot, in silence, hood pulled up over a featureless glass ‘face’, still like a statue of a man, a ghost that didn't want to be noticed, at least not yet. Late night vigils and standing guard for hours on end had made it easy for him to remain in the same position, moving as little as possible, for as long as need be. In a way, he preferred this, being unseen, unjudged, not depending on the impressions he made on most, he did his job and that was that. It gave him the time and freedom he needed to pursue his own, more personal goals, which no one needed to get involved in. It would just get ugly in the end, like it always did. And besides, he was fully aware of how people reacted to him, saw no need to further rile up a situation if he could avoid it. He wasn't human, and it was obvious. Many supers could hide it, pass it off as splicing and intergrate that way, walk in daylight, among humans, among the living. But as the dullahan walked that fine line, seeing the living, how brightly they glowed, but incapable of joining them entirely, and seeing the dead, understanding them and finding wordless comfort in the idea of death. He couldn't join either side, couldn't commit. So he was but a mere guardian, a messenger. A role he was content with.

Watching some of the WDSA agents and officers arrive, Samael began to make his way towards the museum. Already, two agents had approached the nervous looking museum worker, talking to him and informing him of the situation, what they were going to do. Good. Worn shoes patted softly over the asphalt as he came closer to the two officers. After all, he was just a consultant, meaning that it would most definitely be best, if he informed the officers of his presence, and why he had been called here, instead of going off on his own, as he might have, if the situation had been different. Now there wasn't much need for him making those kinds of decisions and it might lead to further confusion, perhaps even ruin everything. Had he wanted to work independently, he wouldn't have apllied at the WDSA. But he still needed to get used to working with larger amounts of people.
As he approached the museum worker and the officers, realization struck him, like an arrow.
He knew these two men, or at least, he had heard of them before, but never had to opportunity to work with them. Seemed like there really was a first for everything, or a least for most things. Taking quick note of their badges, of rank, he figured that he'd better make his presence known, he had met officers that didn't particularly like consultants such as himself. He’d much rather be on the safe side, and get an idea of how the two men felt about him being there. No need to cause unnecessary problems, he was already uncomfortable enough as it was.

“Officers,”, a polite nod, greeting both men, “Consultant O’Carrick.”, he introduced himself quickly, in a hushed, echoing voice, metallic aftertones, sounding hollow, like the wind through trees, “I’ve been called in to provide assistance... should that be needed.”
The last words were added more as an afterthought, letting the officers know that the dullahan respected their ranks and had every intention to be as useful as he could in the situation. And besides, in spite of his poor, and decidedly rusty social skills, he did want to make a good first impression.

[MP]

The man greeted the second officer with a nod, mouth twitching in a failed smile as he took in the stretching scars. At the appearance of the faceless third, he began to look distinctly nervous. All these precautions. All these - these - whatever they weres. He'd never seen anything more exotic than a vampire, and now these strange officer-creatures were tromping all over the parking lot talking as if something would be inside waiting for them. Or...was that his fear? No, that was ridiculous. Some instinctive part of him shied away from the situation, insisting that nothing was wrong here. That the prickling dark was all in his head; that these men were unnecessary and unwanted. The man clasped sweating palms nervously, waiting until the officers were ready to proceed.

"Right, so - if you'll come this way, I'll take you, er. Take you to the spot, shall I?"

He drifted reluctantly back toward the building, holding the door for them as though they were just an ordinary group of visitors. Their footsteps echoed strangely in the foyer.

"As I understand, the uhm, first investigators roped off Gallery G and part of F." he explained as they walked, suddenly disliking how his voice rang off the walls. He lowered it as he continued. "The spot you want is, uh. Here."

He snagged a map off the front desk and handed it to the grey-skinned officer - the least intimidating, he'd decided. He indicated a stair marker sandwiched between the galleries, giving it two rapid taps with a finger.

"That'll be the ancient art and native culture exhibits, mostly. Not my area of expertise, unfortunately, but the section curator is, uhm." He shrugged. "At any rate, there's night staff on hand to help if you need specific directions or details. Otherwise..."

The man stopped before a roped off hall, moving to let them pass. The hairs of his neck prickled with unease, uncomfortable with the yawning gloom at his back. Well he'd done his job. He'd seen that the officers had arrived without problems. They had the gallery layout, the gist of the situation. That should be that.

"Unless you have other questions?" he added, visibly reluctant. After all, he was barely an assistant curator - for modern art, for that matter. This whole business was uncomfortable - tragic, he added dutifully in his head - but not his responsibility past this point.

All the while behind him, the hallway waited. Four staggered plaques lay in immediate viewing distance, each announcing a doorway to this or that thrilling journey into the past. Glass cases of pottery stood interspersed between them, tiny figures frozen mid-caper along their sides. Farther down and beyond the signs, another figure. This one stood by the wall, statuesque with hands clasped behind its back, a mere smudge through the gloom.

[Pearl Dragon]

Stenson greeted Cassius and Samael, another agent of the WDSA that he'd yet to meet but was briefed would be accompanying their team as a Consultant, before leading the way into the museum following their guide. The man's introduction and tour of the affected area was short and Stenson could almost feel the anxiety and nerves that buzzed all around the human.

"The spot you want is uh. Here." He said, snatching a map off the front desk as they entered and handing it to Stenson. The officer unfolded the brochure-like page, gazing over the illustrated corridors and pictures that labeled the different sections of the museum. He quickly noted their current location and its approximate direction from the scene of the crime, before he and the others were led away to the actual sections in question. Stenson glanced over his shoulder at Cassius and Sam, raised an eyebrow, and then handed the map to Cassius so that he too could glance over it for reference.

As the man finished his small tour, asking for any questions and clearly looking as if any questions were the absolute last thing he wanted at that point and time, Stenson waved a hand in gesture that he was without any inquiries. "I'm good to go, unless one of the others had questions. I'm going to do a quick visual sweep, just to be sure nothing seems out of the ordinary."

Stepping into the dark hallways, Stenson left the man with the other two agents, listening to their voices if they continued to speak but otherwise focused on the silent darkness ahead of him. He walked casually, one hand in his pocket but always close to the essential tools at his belt should something happen. However, the fact that so many humanoid statues and figurines lined the different rooms and displays only pushed at his uneasiness. In the shadows, each figure seemed more alive than the next. It was....eerie. To say the least. But with is nightvision, Stenson was able to pick most of them out, scanning the room briefly and mostly just looking for movement. If the briefings were right, and this was in fact a spirit or metaphysical phenomenon, he doubted if his search was going to amount to much anyway, but it didn't hurt to be on the safe side.

As he neared the farthest end of the room, he glanced briefly over some of the statues, finding it difficult to linger on any one in particular as that same eerie feeling crept into him once more, and so he stood with is side turned to them like a commander walking a line of silent soldiers, passing them by one by one.

[jarahamee]

"Consultant O’Carrick. Officer Lucidus." He tipped a nonexistant hat to the newcomer, studying him for a moment. If this creature was truly dangerous, then they would welcome the additional help of other supers. This was someone he had not met before, but the WDSA was huge with a number of consultants he had never met.

Cassius noticed the terrible unease he and the others had cause the guard. Maybe he should glamour himself to be a little less disturbing...Or perhaps it was that there were too many of them for this possibly small crime scene. He wasn't sure. He did his best not to be as loud and obnoxious as he usually was, but this is difficult. He flanked Stenson and held his case close to his body, trying to avoid being too noisy as he followed in.

He noted the relief their guide appeared to feel leaving their company...

He turned towards Stenson and studied the figures, before fidgeting with his suitcase. They were a little eerie, and thought he had good nightvision for a human, that hardly amounted to the kind of nightvision a super might have in the darkness like this.

He had the odd, eerie sense that there was something else here in this area, but what? He stared at the statues, looking for signs of life, but he couldn't see them, at least, just yet.

"If we have privacy, I can track." He offers to Stenson, patting his case. The Beast's senses were more attuned to supernatural beings, besides just a heightened sense of smell. It had once been a wild and free super all its own. He came prepared this time, and otherwise, he might be able to use a bathroom to...change... so to speak.

[NightshadeVII]

The museum worker seemed to grow more nervous at the sight of Samael. Even if he hadn't expected anything less, the Dullahan still lowered his head just slightly, hoping to appear less intimidating, aware of the situation. Humans were used to having a face to read, features that communicated thoughts and emotions, but he didn't, couldn't help the man relax with a simple smile, all he could do, was tone down the fire-like flashes of blue, that would flicker far behind the glass, seemingly unreachable. So that was what he did. Soon enough, however the museum worker began showing the trio through the museum, to where they needed to be, speaking with a slight stutter. It seemed like he couldn't quite comprehend what had happened, couldn't quite believe it. However, if this was the work of one or more spirits, as the WDSA had suspected, it was perfectly understandable than the human was both confused and scared. And the dullahan had to admit, if this had indeed happened because of spirits, he was more worried than he would be, had it been a simple, human culprit.
Spirits, while so very close to what the dullahan was, never failed to heighten his guard. Not quite dead, but definitely not living either, they were undefined and it didn't sit well with him. His duty, all through his existence, had been to define, to separate the living from the dead, and guiding those, whose time was up, away from the living world. So something stuck in between, abandoned like ghosts sometimes were, unsettled him slightly, as they were outside the rules he had thought absolute.
But also made him wonder if it was one of his kind that had let someone down like that. It simply wasn't good enough.

As they reached the spot the museum worker had told them about, the human seemed more than eager to leave, couldn't be blamed for that reaction. The slight feeling that something was just a little bit off, itched beneath Samael’s skin. Dark hallways branched out, like hollowing veins through the museum building, all with different things to offer, different pieces of history. So many places to hide, and even more places to be exposed. Absentmindedly, the dullahan tugged at his gloves, before shoving his hands into his pockets, keeping himself otherwise composed.
While officer Jones moved down the halls, performing his visual sweep, Samael used the time to study the rooms on the map, how everything connected. Studying surroundings was crucial if everything went south, he'd prefer to know where the exits and potential covers were.
If he prepared for the worst, he wouldn't be disappointed if it came to that, but would instead be pleasantly surprised if it didn't.

Hearing the officer Lucidus speak to Jones, mentioning tracking, Samael decided to let the two men decide on the matter themselves. After all, he wasn't entirely sure what Lucidus had just suggested, and they knew each other better than the dullahan knew either of them. Quietly, he walked towards one of the hallways that hadn't been closed off yet, stopping just before the room narrowed and became a hallway. After all, if this was the work of a spirit, then, depending on its abilities, roped off sections and closed doors wouldn't matter at all.
Then maybe... well, it would be risky, he would be exposing himself, but it could perhaps clear up if there was anything spiritual present. It could work. Currently confined by glass and flesh, the Dullahan wasn't quite as... apparent to the non-physical. The purest part of his being was muted and muffled, leaving less of a strain. Like this, vaugely humanoid, he was far from as present in the metaphysical world as he could be. So if he made his presence known beyond the physical realm he was currently in, reached out, maybe he could catch the attention of any eventual spirits. It did pose risks to himself, he made himself vulnerable, and in that sense, the two officers would be at risk as well. However, if he came up empty, if there truly was no ghost for them to worry about, there was nothing to fear.

He turned, walking back to join the two officers.
“The WDSA suspected spiritual activity, right?”, he finally asked, wanting to confirm the information he had been given, “there's a way I can clear that up.”, he looked from one officer to the other, “And, even if it doesn't work, maybe it could help your tracking, Lucidus?”
The last thing Samael wanted to do, was seem like he was just dismissing the officer’s suggestion without even considering it. He trusted his intuition, his gut feeling, when it came to others and obviously the scarred male hadn't made his way up to the rank of gold-badge without knowing what to do. Samael had his ways of doing things, so maybe it would be good for him to learn, to see how other people did the same things.
“However I'd like your permission, seeing as what I plan to do isn't without risk... you'll have fair warning if something does go wrong.”, as he spoke, he performed a rather awkward gesture with his hands. Even if he was more comfortable now that the museum worker had left them, he still hated dragging attention to himself.

[MP]

Lopsided shapes bloomed out of the darkness and reversed as Stenson proceeded through the first gallery. Bulbous stone men perched on their pedestals, the featureless heads seeming to turn after the officer in the gloom. The ceremonial shawls of the family figures, so intricate in daylit photos of the museum site, hung like cobwebs in the dark, the trio of wooden smiles beneath them wolflike. The row of masks only sneered back. Farther ahead, a soldierly row of statues lined the end of Gallery F, corpselike in their stiffness. As the gargoyle approached, one of them turned its head.

“WEGH,” it said. And then, “Sorry, man. Wasn’t expecting the eyes.” It indicated its own shadowed brow, a slight wiggle of its fingertips mimicking Stenson’s fiery orbs.

“Yeah, so. He’s right over here. Or...was. You know.” The security guard indicated the floor farther ahead, where a small roped off section and a few evidence markers lay at the base of the stairs.

The man shuffled and lowered his finger quickly, seemingly uncomfortable with it being in such close proximity to the scene of death. At the dullahan’s echoing words, his discomfort seemed to intensify.

“I’ll just get out of your way, huh? ‘Specially if risky stuff is going down...” The last sentence was spoken in a matter, and the guard did not wait for approval. His brisk steps echoed eagerly down the gallery, sounding eager to get away from the unnatural trio.

Unguarded now, the evidence markers waited. The first stood over a faint soot-like smudge, which dragged and smeared at one end to show where a body might have fallen. A second marker showed the chipped fragments of what might have been stone. These were small and fairly few. Whatever had lain here could not have been large. The third marker was located further up the stairs leading to Gallery G. There was a second smudge here: a bit of residue lining one stair where a shoe had scuffed in its downward flight. Perhaps the man had been running, but whatever had happened the previous night, the museum lay quiet now. The ceiling over the officers seemed to yawn, the air still and expectant.

[Pearl Dragon]

The movement of the guard standing near the mannequins caused Stenson to tense, his grip on the holster and handle of his gun tightened slightly and he took a sideways step back as the guard reacted with a "WEGH" noise before stepping out to greet the officer.

"Sorry, man. Wasn't expecting the eyes." The man confessed, motioning with his fingers in a "looking" gesture. Stenson relaxed and let out a small breath.

"Startled me too." He said, and then allowed the guard to show the way.  He supposed he should be glad it was a bit too dark perhaps for the man to also notice his grey skin tone, as that most certainly might've startled him twice as bad as Stenson's shimmering, mirrored eyes.  Once they were upon the scene, and then gave the guard a hearty pat on the shoulder to which the man dipped out and hurried away. All the better.

"If we have privacy, I can track." Cassius then said, and Stenson looked up and down at the empty gallery to confirm that they were in fact alone.

"I don't see the harm," Stenson began, but then Samael also stepped in and mentioned the spiritual nature of the case as well as an offer to help.

"However, I'd like your permission, seeing as what I plan to do isn't without risk....you'll have fair warning if something does go wrong. Stenson watched the glass-like surface of where the Dullahan's would be, and saw his own reflection staring back at him. It was clear from the gestures of his hands that Samael either wasn't used to social interactions, or wasn't fond of it. Or perhaps both. Stenson then looked to Cassius for confirmation, seeing as both their efforts combined would help determine what they would find.

"Again, if it were up to me, I'd say we should do both. Cassius, what do you think? One officer to do physical tracking, one for spiritual? That way our culprit, if they are still here, will be easier to find." The smudges on the ground, their presence apparent from the evidence markers, suggested that the guard might have been chased judging by the scuff marks that led to and down the stairs. "I don't see any other marks or evidence suggesting that our victim had been accompanied in chase by the pursuer, at least not physically. All I see are the scuffs from his own boots. Not sure if all of these smudges are the rubber from the soles but then again, I'm no investigator." Stenson offered them a 'hope that helps' smile, before nodding for them to work out their plan of action while he continued to take a look around and stand guard. He kept clear of the initial scene, not wanting to muck up any of the clues, and instead gazed around the rest of the gallery.

Most of the mannequins seemed to stare back at him in the gloom, reminding him of his own nature. He was, he supposed, like them, but free to walk about while they stood in perpetual stasis for as long as they existed, looking out at him as if to accuse him of this unfair freedom. An ironic thought.

[jarahamee]

Cassius nodded at the other two, listening to their plans, and then clapped Stenson on the shoulder with a sudden toothy grin, illuminating his slightly crooked and sharpish teeth. The scarred officer put the case on the floor and opened it almost absently while talking to the other two, still grinning. Not-unexpectedly, the hulking, ragged shape of the Beast emerged from the case; what appeared to be a dead, but fearsome face, and long, hanging limbs devoid of their original body. There were other items in the case, in very small bottles on either sides. Potions in case they were needed; a small supply.

"I like that plan. Even if there are risk, if it will help us see what is going on it might help."

He looked at Sam and then Stenson, who was probably familiar with the drill, but to avoid a workplace harassment suit from the awkwardness of his magic, he addressed the both of them, holding the Beast's limp hide between his hands. The head drooped with its unpleasant-looking half-alive eyes staring at Stenson.

"Uh, I will have to take off my clothes now, if you want to look away."

He started removing his suit, starting with the jacket. He wasn't quite as practiced taking off his suit as he was removing his uniform, but it had made him quite practiced with the buttons. His gun, holster, and the contents of his pockets, including his wallet, joined the other things inside of the case. He then took off his shirt, undershirt and pants. He covered himself with the skin, which covered his body almost completely, like a glove; a much better match than any ordinary animal skin, snaking about to create unseen seams beneath his head, arms and legs. The form underneath bent like plastic, popping and cracking wetly as it resettled in his new quadrupedal form.

Then only the Beast stared back at them with luminous yellow eyes. It was bear-sized, though its long limbs were thinner, and arranged differently: upper leg too long, bent slightly too far out. Long paws whose fingers were the only portion used to stand. The hind limbs were limber, more like human feet on closer inspection, though all four limbs bore hooked claws, and his red, yawning jaws were decidedly toothy. The newly beastly Cassius carefully folded his mound of clothes and drew out his K-9 vest before slipping it clumsily over his head. He then shoved the case closed with a click.

Despite how much had just happened, the whole thing was fairly quick. Cassius looked down at his K-9 vest and poked it, pushing the case towards Stenson.

"I shub get a glabor for dis ting."

As if to offset how intimidating the Beast was, his voice, which was also decidedly beastly, was distorted by his lack of human lips. He leaned forward and started sniffing around where he stood, moving about with surprising speed for how awkwardly his creature form was built.

[NightshadeVII]

With relief, Samael noted that neither of the officers seemed to seemed to write off his suggestion, nor did they seem offended by it. That was always good to know. The tension he hadn't noticed building between his shoulders loosened up, the change of posture unnoticeable.
The dullahan couldn't help but wonder if the opinion of the officers would change once they saw what he would do. Knowing that it could be considered disturbing, unnatural, but then again, how much further could he stray from what was natural?

Soon enough the gold badge officer, Lucidus, procured a wolf skin, intact and well-preserved, from the case he had brought with him. Even if there was no physical body inhabiting the skin, it seemed oddly alive, its eyes just a bit too bright, a bit too intelligent. It made Samael wonder if the wolf skin was really unseeing, if there still was a consciousness, a life deep inside it. But something told him he was about to find out. As the golden badge officer warned that he would remove his clothes, Samael turned his head, wanting to give the man privacy. Even if his field of vision was just that little bit broader than a humans, even more so when lacking head, the officer still slid over the edge of that field, becoming invisible to him. Yet, he could still hear. Could still hear the rustling of cloth, soon replaced with fur against skin, enveloping. Then came the snapping of bones, wet and unexpected. A sound that, the first time it filled the fragile silence of the museum, almost made him jump, waiting for something not-so-plesant to emerge from the shadows, that seemed almost unnaturally deep here. Being in a state of constant alert, while definitely an advantage in many situations, could also trigger unnecessary actions prematurely, leading to mistakes.
Mistakes he could afford on his own. Not around others.
As the cracking and popping stopped, Samael turned his head, slowly, back in the officer's direction. Only to see a massive wolf staring back at him and Jones. Those eyes that had only been half-alive before now illuminated, awake and glowing with a new intelligence, merged with the one that had already been present. A union of minds that no human cloud hope to understand. Yet the creature, while definitely having wolf like traits, was larger, strange paws and bending limbs allowing him to do more than what a regular wolf would be capable of. It truly was a beast. And it was Lucidus.
The officer-turned-wolf slipped on the K-9 vest he had brought with him, even if the movement was clumsy, by the standards of a human, it was obvious that Lucidus had tried this before. However, what surprised the dullahan even more, was that the officer was still capable of speech. Even if the words were broken and still did require some dechipering, it was clear that it wasn't some growl or snarl.

“Right...”, Samael said, nodding at both officers, “I better get to it as well.”, then on after thought he added, “sorry if this disturbs either of you, it's not exactly... graceful or anything.”
Knowing the twisted sight the two officers were about to witness, he would rather warn them in advance, even if it proved unnecessary, instead of just throwing them into it, no warning given, alienating the two officers. While he had spoken a clean-cut, vertical line was already being to drag down the smooth surface of his temporary head, barely visible against the dark behind it, but still catching light and reflecting it. At first it didn't seem deep, more like a surface scratch, shallow and unimportant, yet it grew deeper, cutting through the wholeness, allowing the first threads of undefined matter to slip out, reaching out but still restricted.
Then, with a faint hiss, what had been a vertical line, opened up, splitting the glass head in half, dividing the physichal with a furrow. Wisps of mistlike blackness reached out. Not really a gas, not really a mist, seeming to drip like tar or oil, unable to keep itself fully together. And these disconnected drops fell for a few seconds, commanded by gravity, until it seemed like time reversed, the matter that had been falling, moving back and rejoining, taking a new place but serving the same function.
Soon, physical senses all became obsolete, his voice lost and forgotten, pushed back by something different. Something more. The world defined by sensation and sight blurred, becoming a backdrop for what he now felt, fading to the monochrome. Still the sounds remained, echoing and far away. Liquid, misty tendrils reached out, searching for anything known, anything not quite living. Even if the physical world around him became less real to him, the metaphysical intensified, rising in volume and clarity. Spreading and searching, but never fully disapating, the mist continued.
However, this also meant that Samael would make himself much more apparent to certain spirits, if there were any around, as he was pushing through the veil separating the two worlds.

[MP]

As the dullahan spread formless tendrils through the cold air, the effect was like a black light. Where the physical eye showed a polished, pristine interior, the true room seethed with a clinging, pulsating aura that choked the air and strangled the last dim glow of the overhead lights. There was an uncomfortable weight to it - an awareness that seemed to turn upon Samael with a near tangible malice and infectious hunger. Still, nothing approached the officers, or even stirred. The feeling was like a frost, like a growth save for the disturbing heartbeat pulse. It laced like creepers over the walls, blanketed the twin wooden forms of the family figures like a second shawl, pushed at the backs of the masks like crude impressions of faces. In the corners where it was thickest, the feeling hunkered with a spider-like air, anticipatory, churning subtly to itself. Yet this was for the dullahan’s nonexistent eyes alone. To the eyes of the waiting officers, the floors lay still glossy with moonlight, the glass cases pristine. The room stood unchanged. Almost.

As Sten and Cassius looked on, there was perhaps the slightest flutter in their peripherals, so faint it could almost be mistaken for a blink of an eyelash. It was not a presence, but rather a lack at the top of the curving stairwell, where something seemed to have only just vanished around the corner.

[Pearl Dragon]

Cassius' request for privacy had apparently already been heeded as Stenson continued to turn and walk about in the gallery. He eyed a few more of the displays and mannequins at least until the other two were finished with whatever changes they'd been undertaking to accomodate for their investigation. Stenson remained as he was, partly because everything in here seemed much too delicate to have a gargoyle tromping about, and he also didn't see the need to. But then, he rarely ever did.

When Cassius and Samael were finished, Stenson turned idly back to them and went to stand beside the wolf. Both agents now seemed incredibly different, Cassius in his wolf skin, and Samael as some sort of headless apparition. Stenson had to admit, the sight was indeed a tad unsettling, which was what Samael had warned about, but Stenson did not let it show.

Especially since a different kind of surprise overtook him. Something had moved upon the stairs leading up to the next floor. Or...so he thought. The motion was quick, barely there, and could've easily been a trick of the eye. But, Stenson's gut warned otherwise, and so he pulled a small flashlight from his belt. The white beam of light cut an arc from the floor up to where the stairs turned out of sight. Without a word, Stenson tapped Cassius' now fur-covered arm and made a single quiet gesturing point towards the stairwell before approaching to investigate. What the others did was up to them, but Stenson had a feeling he couldn't ignore, that someone might be lurking just out of sight. It had rarely ever failed him in the past, and now as he began to ascend the stairs, he latched onto it with stern focus.

Knowing the cause of death of the victim, Stenson figured right away that potential spirits, if this was the case, and stairwells were bound to lead to disaster, and so he made absolutely sure to keep his stance turned to the side rather than forward in case unseen forces decided to get 'pushy', as well as keeping a firm grip on the handrail.  As he ascended, he called out to what he thought he saw and kept the flashlight beam trained on the furthest visible point.

"Is anyone there?" He asked, voice and tone kept light and without threat in case whatever it was might be afraid rather than malicious.  "We aren't going to hurt you.  Can you come out to us?"  He gave a quick glance back towards Cassius and Samael to see if either of them were following or remaining behind to continue searching the lower floor.

[jarahamee]

Cassius recognized the quick movement with a swift turn of his head and a sway of his powerful body. Perhaps the movement itself was the thing he could see best, given his canine eyes. He admitted to himself, he could not smell much, if anything, there was something like the lack of scent, instead, a malevolent feeling, like dread. The Beast was strongest when he wore the skin and it felt the danger of this place clearly. 'Enemies all around' it offered, as helpful and aloof as always. He looked at Samael thoughtfully, and mentally added 'good work.' Saying such would shatter the potent silence of this place that had developed. They were both so effective, so helpful. It made him feel more confident. 

He was in loathe to leave Samael's side, but he had the feeling that Stenson was, as always, directing himself towards danger as quickly as possible, and moved to flank with him, padding silently, head up and alert. Hopefully this was not a wise foe who had decided to set traps for the hunters that pursued it. The space between Stenson and Cassius vanished in heavy lopes from his long limbs, claws ticking on the floor as he went. His thickly furred side brushed up against Stenson's body, his tail moved up in an question-mark of aroused attentions as he moved. 

Though huge and unnatural, his likeness to a real canine was unmistakable, even in behavior. It was difficult to tell how much of him was human anymore at any given time. The Beast's impressive mouth was shut, giving him a sharp, wolfish profile. In the dimness his eyes shined brightly back at them and he moved quickly to investigate, and, if necessary, protect Stenson with his sharp teeth and claws. He followed, looking for anything illuminated in the shadows around the beam of light; watching for any further movement. His head inclined upwards, sniffing, his nostril slits flaring as he did so, the faintest gleam of his impressive canines showing.

He ascended to Stenson's side, but if their quarters grew tight, he would walk before him.