"Smart place to hide in plain sight." She softly spoke to the nearest entry mannequin. Where everyone is unnerved by the wax works real human qualities. She sees that the very outfits and costumes from films and actors have became their own living objects. It is not the wax dolls but the objects adorning them.
As of this turn of the clocks, she is alone. Era of her life that she was alone. Be it after enslavement to the clothus but during her research lifetimes to seek the other formats of souls and tomes. When she was seeking methods to bring things back without undertakers, demons and angels. A tome without gods and broken laws. This now she is, someone that has very dirty hands. Murdered and soul plucked subjects to seek the essence of what are souls really.
An answer she still doesn't have answer. She does have a better grasp of the concept then anyone, even some of the main gods aren't sure. She doesn't need to seek that answer anymore. These tests gave her what she needed.
It was time to repent these sins. These cruelties she gained as becoming a Clothus herself. She stands as a torn skins of floating materials. A real living quality damned mask that expressed many emotions easily in how creaked and fragility. Her arms thin bone in linen wraps. Greeting the wax work models of this creepy place. She did mock up for the queues to get in and paid for a ticket like any normal person. Otherwise, she was an ethereal creep hiding at the edge of tourist photos, twig fingers helping the costumes in their plead.
Outfits of film heroes and personalities of the celebrity world. Each is an residual remains of those who made those outfits iconic. Soul threads or a little part of the humans whom poured their acting life into reality. The place is cramped full of wax faces, perfectly pose for pictures. From royal monarchy of British recent history. Historical outfits of past ones. Singers. Actors. Comedians. High brow personalities made into wax statues wearing the outfits of their image. An unsteady unease of lifeless glass eyes that stare without seeing.
"Ah, Doctor Teixeira! This was where you went. We need the finale approval for the project. You need to confirm that you father is very sure of such dangerous." The lowly small assistant flinched as she took the file of this current life's work. The black hole summoners ritual. Here to swallow the London population in exchange of scrubbing the tome clean. To summon a thing to wipe the pages white and write souls as the Tricksters wanted. Tricksters want play god over soul names. That was at least the intent. To control the thing that they summon from the black hole project. These aren't the finished notes like those in her shadow vault. In fact, these are the pages that seemingly got lost and delayed the entire project.
"My lady, if I may." Some lap dog on her father's leash to watch her every move. Here to? Oh, those eyes. A double triple agent.
Human government worker to sell the Seers for criminal duty. There is an undertaker inside. And there is the human whom has to save his hid, to be her fathers lap dog. She tucked the file into her layers, silent and in keeping to acting disappointed of it not including her speaking to the dead project. There isn't any of her earlier warning or prevention work inside that file. The trimmings his cutting off because it is her. She makes a play pout, and back forwards she wished to speak to the wax work before her. Both low humans look at each other and return away from her at a backing step.
"Are you content in these glass cages, being held on with lifeless wax bodies? You play a role in being inspiring the many tourist that walk past your cages. Are you fine with the chances of being back on set for next films or next owners?" She asked this often to each and everyone those wax works on her trail through. The humans nervously followed arms length from her. She can see and hear the answers well enough. The creatures are content. They advise her if she were to cross those that aren't. She wrote the information provided at ease in a notepad. Nodding as the hidden spoke their words. She knows she's being watched by that lap dog intensively.
"Yes, I know what you mean." She turned around from the James Bond outfit, "A very amateur spy indeed." She looked down on the laptop dogs return to bother her about the papers, "Would it be that wise to give those files to the British government? I know your racing to make history in space with all the manufacturing of space travellers equipment the UK provides the global stage. Hand shaking with Russia and America with their space projects. Willingly making trades with Korean, Japan and China behind your allies backs." She looks into the fella, "So who really gets the classified science study after you?"
The lap dog trembling with being striped bare of his intent. She poses a figure in not needing a word out of the dog. She twirls in adjustment of her materials. She pulls a middle aged women, her inheritance of half hair shades. A white lab coat soon smoothed from her blacken Clothus skin. Peeling her to a more human mimic. She used her left hand to reach the spies shoulder, grasping his senses and what laws. Her flesh pink and tanning. Colouring to humanity. The man gasped like she stole his energy, she didn't but he assumed that.
"Are you going to use me like the others?" He seems to hope this would sting her to let him live.
"I have accomplished my souls purpose, child." She takes her hand away, "My father wants the black hole to erase and break souls. To make the soul language bend. He strides for a god complex. If it wipes out the vast majority of the world, it is but a small wedge of what he intends after being a god." She spoke flatly, "I am sure the undertaker your sheltered can tell you how stupid that is. That isn't what God is. Well..." she shook her head, "This universe concept of God is impressive but its nothing to an ant like my father. Even when this project collapses in a great tragedy, of so many lives lost. He will not have accomplished being the all might power he wanted. He is not worth saving. He will not save himself."
The lap dog turned pale in how she called out their ring tie where she hadn't any showing of family ability. They see her as a weak and lowly half Fallown with low quality skills. Unable to see or hear the spirits around them, its why they deem her project useless.
"So you can see and speak to us now." Curiosity steps around from a display. His rage soften only a little. He can sense she not the same. She's not human. Not normal. Not the target of making some low pawn.
"I am a book keeper, I have always known of the normal lot. You undertakers weren't the aim of my voices." She softly walks to a new display model, she listens to its wish for a sleeve repair. She softly casts a bit of mending clothing magic and hears it pleased. She smiles. Curiosity had widened his eyes a little, a lot more expressive for a typical undertaker. She sees his second face, senses the sorrow dripping off his shadow.
"Are you going to stop it?" The lap dog stands in following after her. As she nearly left them behind from the walk way.
"I cant. Its just another cog event." She sighs, "But you can make them be ready to save as many lives possible." She lifted the file from herself, altered the documents to reflect the real cost of this project. The breaking of the earth's magnetic field temporarily. The files flustered in unseen hands and dance air around them. The lap dog couldn't be more pale. She softly swirls her casting as the pages closed back into the file. It drops the floor, "oops, I seem to dropped that file. I may had even lost it. It has the machine calculation for the ratio of black hole stability. If we lost that, it be delaying us a year." The lap dog snatched it quickly, "Oh dear, I guess I will have to tell my father some rat has been among us. We will have find the leak of information and end them." She wags her left hand in dramatic sarcastic tone. He hold the file tight, "I am sure I can execute the lab technician that made the final count whom been emailing out data to our unwanted." He scrunched and scrambles out of there. She broke the contract that her father enslaved over the kid. Left him to prepare the rest of the world for this circumstances.
"What do you mean by you certainty that it will fail? How do you know the cost of lives?" Curiosity demands, "Have you really accomplished your souls purpose?" She looked at his cold ice. His unique uniform. The god slayers dagger on his hip. The enders mask on his face. She looked right inside his soul, briefly to take in the person she knew or not.
"This isn't the end as you know it." She twirls to make space between at a professional distance as there seems a small disconnected parts like the part she missed and knew isn't there, "The doomsday clock will only chime each time the title of ender is passed over to the next host." She smiles sad tinted, "So how strong are you to carry that burden?" She sees he is little more then being afraid of her and the shock of her knowledge, "You know? We do keep meeting like this. In dire or embarrassing situations. I use to think it was the universe. I just didn't look hard enough that 1st time."
Her eyes on the dagger, his resolve and that ice manifesting patterns on his legs. A fracture like blanket of white slowly taking the black of the uniform to grey. Solidified him as a visible being here. She isn't fazed of this changed person.
"Things happen that can not be changed." She felt herself say these exact words. When it is time to shed one shell for the next, the cross curtains the way a soul should do. To welcome death as an old friends. She softly smiled in the twist of sorrow. She however ponders how the clock waits for no man. She had even smirked, knowing she have to revisit this... situation.
"There are things that are certain, but they are the aspects that are changing." He hissed low tone, barely itching edge of control, "I am the one that will mark your death."
He watched how she doesn't react about that. That she wasn't surprised but rather she seems soothed to knowing it. The tension in his shoulders dropped drastically. There a twisting inside that suggested his internal assumptions were just thrown out a window. Not glass reality shattering, just off set tilting. He frowns in trying to figure why she knew and is so already accepted fate. A fate he knows she could break and change. She can read his unnerve of her resolve. Like a stunned cat for a mouse biting back. She walks among the glass panes of displays, her reflection isn't the same as what she is showing herself to be. He follows her closer, always at her heel. Following the chase as a compelled killer does.
"When souls are edited physically and permanently, it forces events to stay in sequences." She soothed her tone in a honest place, "It forces structural bone work of the system. Many souls had bleed to make the very tomes that record realms. Many have lost themselves to find truth. To know what divides us from others. To gain one or the make one." She speaks vibrations into the passing displays and through those who are listening.
She stops short of the current display for a metal band. Their leather coats. Their instruments. Their stage props. She stands at their front and bows. Welcoming old friends. She gave the in gesture, someone only close fans know. All these members are long lost in passing of time, but their legacy has left them as legends within the wax works. The lap dog steps nervously, still here to see if the undertaker was going to actually kill her yet. The poor human spy being skittish as the wax dolls began to pose themselves. The clothing they are wearing has forced them to pose. Salute to the name of music and peace.
Curiosity steps around to the information board. He was assuming it was her little trick of shadows. A little Clothus spell or threads of energy force by her mage magic. In his hands sweeping the surface of the board, he sees other variations of the same plaque explaining the way this bands gear came to be donated to the wax works. The suits rested back to their museum poses and she poses for a camera.
The nearby chime of clocks. The surroundings is full of students taking photos. The display a different music band group. Mages and none alike talk at length of the clothing, point of the museum and its wax dolls creepy nature.
"How many people will it take to fill this place to a brick of wax?" Arthur asked in sigh while checking out his photo. He almost dropped his phone, which she reflexively caught from shattering. She smiles blankly, she knew the answer but doesn't wish to explain why she knows.
"Depends on the cubic measure of the air space of this entire building. That isn't to terrible to mathematical work out." Matthew with a more sensible assumption. Matthew seems at pondering the building capacity, unaware of Arthur being strange. She knew from the nerve shiver and hair on end on his arms.
"Sorry to scare you, Arthur. These displays are more alive to me then you fear. Its best to just play along like a tourist." She gave back his phone carefully, "I am not afraid of the empty wax dolls, they are not the ones who live here." She wafted the image to hide her abnormal, making it the photo of kids posing in front of wax dummies. It was to be one the photos used in his report homework assignment about the not magic world entertainment. As this is meant to be some culture study trip.
"So what is here?" She shakes her head in reply and they moving among the students to the next display and making poses at the doll in joking around as teens do at this age. Playing appearing age. Arthur takes extra caution at shadows of things. She rolls eyes of his healthy paranoia. Time in being young, always slips away fast.
The chime of the next hour was sooner felt, she was completely in a different area of the museum. Her claws mutated ways, thin twig fingers repairing a costume from the deeper underground storages. She slides checking and is among several others sewing these articles of clothing. She tilted in lacking human neck muscles, eyeing the group around her. Survivors... no one is comfortable with each other. But truce is held while everyone is making use of the items for gear. She straighten up and looked upwards at higher shelves where afraid ones hid. She lowered down not acknowledging them, the corpses being used among these scavengers. She slows softly petting the current material she was making, being respectful of the creatures these objects became. She makes no waste unlike those around her. Not a strip left to scrap.
"How do we get out of here without being devastated by the 'do not'?" Asked in terror among the group, tasted deeply rich like five star course meal in all the hues. She can isolate each person like a fine dish.
"They are intelligent enough to exchange. There plenty of the left over scrap that we could make goods as payment to leave their territory." She suggested. Some sneer in disbelief. Others don't argue her. There some that will be fighting it out of here. Some who follows her lead to a point of abandoning her if it doesn't pan out. She helps makes braces and other left pouch draw string bags. Those taking her plan stay to her sides. The others are letting them be the slaughter first and escape while distraction.
She already eyes how a table just moved, a wood table that belongs to an antique store, not the wax works. She softly pets the surface, and very gently began Morse code tapping on the surface. She pauses and the table pats her back at her leg areas, out of eye level. The negotiating has began. She makes only promise of herself to keep and warned the others are blind. She apologized about killing anyone and provided assurances that the souls are at peace. She even goes extra in offering any abnormal exchanges. The colony that had heard her tapping, voted among itself and soon was allowing small example exchanges. Noting about them leaving yet.
"I am getting out of here, screw you!" This person turned to start running when a mock glass display folded fleshy and consumed him instantly. She didn't flinch while more screamed or gasped. Someone vomited. It was a quick death, bone snap but instant. As if the wall of flesh was the hand to squish a fly. The blood spray was beaded across a 'rug' and then the the fibre of the tussles cleaned itself. Squeaking most to stop making more noises.
"So as I was saying, the pouches can be full of worms or lizard meat." She spoke aloud while watching the table stand on two and morph into a wax doll figure, "I have blessing and cursing candles made of bee wax or demon fats. I have several wood and crystal carvings. Prayer totems." She took pause as it indicated.
"The rest of you... what are you offering?" Her allies offer each the made bags and bracelets. Each asking to leave peacefully without being devoured. They are escorted from the floor to a safe zone, given they worded their pleads smartly. Someone else just went to run, they got pancaked under a mock metal cabinet for a police station or office. The draws open and closed loudly chewing its catch. That guy is still alive, while being chewed.
"I don't actually want to leave." A odd person spoke up, "I can offer my own way of help in exchange of living with you lot. If that is OK." Leana shrugs and the colony makes its voting. It takes a long time.
"A pet human, its cute. You get to dress her up, feed her nice and eat her when she dies. That is not a bad idea." Leana voiced, "Once I am done, I will be moving on like always. Always running away or into my sweet bloody husband." Leana voiced smooth.
"Oh, I didn't know you had a heart." The nearest not furniture item tuts. She eye rolls, "I guess you just hide your humanity behind the void of darkness."
"Aren't you soulless? Aren't you feeling cold in the lights here."
"I was enjoying the five star meal of emotions, thank you." She back taps the doll, "And I was making my way to Unlondon. I really want a bunch of corpse exchanges with broken Ai system."
"Freak." The do not snarls, "I guess you get by being without a soul just fine." She freezes a little in controlling her reactions to such words. She had removed her face a moment to stop her illusion of human shape a second. Mulling over eating the do nots soul or not. A smart one among the colony pushed the idiot from reach. And began a new bargain. New string of exchanges to distract Leana rage. The human pet is being taken to a new lodging and safety away from Leana. The last few left are being slaughtered.
"Take these things that don't belong. Collector of the broken, lost and forsaken." Her shadow being poured a ton of materials, books and stuff. She is escorted out of the museum display area, and into entry of the front of this place. They flee the second they can once she crossed a particular threshold.
"Gah!" She studies the folks stopped around this spot, the soft look back of the do not colony locking the private door behind her. She puts her face on. Gentle at putting features of human qualities about herself. Guns and angelic bow sets raised. She scowls a little bit for the holy relics.
"Seriously?" She shrugs unfazed as she takes smirk of Matthew in Hazmat kit. He takes our his notepad, which made her snort further.
"Explain." Someone of the crew asked.
"This particular entity is a personal known soul connection to myself." Matthew grumbles as he flipping pages, and huffed giving up.
"I am not that difficult. I may enjoy broken souls and love reading your tome materials matrix. Yet material wise, I am a survivor. Just getting by, existing when I am allowed to. Human or not. Doesn't matter." She softly spoke in matching their spoken language and cadence of tone. They shiver until someone lowered down the bow enough.
"A soul collector... a sort of recycling languages type entity." They spoke calm and at a sooth tone. She takes a little adjustment.
"I should add that onto my entry." She softly ponders, "And it would suit a whole entire project." She softly purrs, "Recycling language tome matrix entity. Being an entity is actually an upgrade." She soft nods to herself.
"Teixeira." Matthew voiced deep in having found a name of hers.
"Trixie works too." She left hand lazed and stays in the calmer voice tone, "Anyway, what are you lot trying to enter a do not colony nest for? I might have some the items you were seeking for. Exchanges of abnormalities is my trade. I will not hid the fact that I am not what I seem. I will however save you some sanity in acting human enough." This takes a while to translate and for sure parts were misunderstood. She stays still and calm, palms up. They take forever to lower weapons, making private conversations between themselves.
"I need your nightmare." Matthew voiced with stepping at her front, "We need crossing into the dark space." She figures he meant a backrooms sort of space, the realms of reflections or the damned corridor. She studies him deeply in checking, seeing what she needs.
"A monster to keep the others away." She tuts, "Because it is you. Sure."
She adjustments her whole body and with a soft click, she lowered over them. She thins to meatless stick shape. She puts herself to be hung around Matthew, hiding herself as a belt system. Sealing his suit of its rips and holes. She settled into sleeping on him, as it was comfortable in his touch. She forgot how hot she always felt and how he much a cold breeze he is for her. Plenty of the watching do nots flee from her bending bent around the undertaker in the Hazmat suit. The lack of furnishings suddenly made everyone guarded again.
"This door is new." Someone pointed out.
"I did ask her to take us across." He spoke gentle, "Let's go before the colony of mock furniture tries to attack us again." Everyone files through the damned corridor gate. Holding belts or hands. Pulled into the hidden Sigil area. There was plenty of relief as they found a exit from the shadow side to the place they assume to know.
Making it to the corridors of a mage tower, the next London location. Having used one the temple archway as a mock crossing into a time zone shift into the next available zone.