Brief Title:
Dragonslayers
Characters:
Morbius
Scene Runner/Watcher:
IC Date:
2009/05/30 19:00
Location:
Metropolitan Museum
Summary:
Dr. Morbius follows Gabriel into the museum and witnesses a strange exchange within the museum walls (time jump converted)
Social or Plot:
Social
TS:
No
Log:
-----==[ Upper East Side - New York ]==---------------------------------------
The Upper East Side is one of the most expensive residential areas in the entire United States. Here you will find high rise apartments, overpriced high rise condos and the occasional mansion - though most are no longer private residences, occupied instead by exclusive clubs for the immensely wealthy, or embassies such as Latveria's taking advantage of the proximity to the UN. The businesses in the area are suited to that clientele - elite boutiques, expensive restaurants, art galleries, and so on. Most buildings in the area reach 20 to 40 floors, and the more expensive boast views of Central Park or of the river. Limousines are regularly seen among the taxis that crowd the streets - as, closer to the park, are horse-drawn carriages.
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Despite the threats of thunder and lightning, the weather in New York has proved to be quite pleasant. At least for this hour. Instead of people running for shelter, people are going at a more leisurely pace. You can still see the feet moving. With the typical eight to five jobs ending and people finding some free time, most head to nearby eatery's for a light dinner, or to the subway to head to their respective homes. As for one older man dressed in an old style suit, glasses, and a bowler hat, he instead of arriving at an eatery, he's leaving one. And instead of heading to the subway, he takes his own leisurely route down the street, leading towards the Metropolitan Museum.
Summer...many people look forward to it, but Dr. Morbius had not for a long time. Longer days, more of the terrible sunlight, less time to do anything but curl up and wait out the brightness. And though that isn't quite the terror it was for him, psychologically, his senses still recoil at the lateness of the sunset...he is still somewhat on edge, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes, as he walks the streets after his shift in the lab.
Oh what a contrast indeed. Bowler hat seems to be enjoying the weather of the hour. Glancing about, the sunlight reflects off of his lenses, directing the little beams of light towards Morbius's own glasses. As he walks towards Morbius's direction, he takes no note of the doctor as he starts to turn down the pathway leading to the entrance of the museum.
The mutated physician's head snaps a bit to the side as the light plays along his shades...years of having your retinas burned will ingrain that sort of thing into you. Nonetheless, he turns and watches the man in the hat as he goes by. He's no detective, but he's been 'staking out' the museum for a few days, hoping for another lead...this may be it.
Unhindered, the man in the hat continues up the path to the museum, only pausing to hold the door open for another patron with a warm smile before going in himself.
. o O(How polite of him...considering) Morbius thinks wryly before starting up the stairs. The fact that he's actually able to go to the museum during operating hours sadly doesn't even occur to him, he's all business. Anything to keep his mind off his recent loss...he shakes the thought away and drops a twenty into the 'suggested donation' box absently.
-----==[ Metropolitan Museum - Upper East Side ]==----------------------------
The lobby of the museum is a huge, roughly circular room with a very high ceiling. A staircase curves up one wall, dark-veined white marble stairs lined by a thick, dark red-brown railing of polished wood. The floor is tiled in black and white marble, and an impressive light fixture just shy of a chandelier's elegancy is suspended from the ceiling, casting light all the way down to the bottom floor. On one side of the lobby is the entrance to the gift store - a room lit just a bit too brightly, and stuffed full of shelves and racks containing souvenirs of all types. A short corridor leads past the front desk, and the ever-present duo of receptionist and security guard, into the depths of the museum.
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Wednesday afternoons are not the busiest of times for attenting the museum. With the lack of a crowd, it makes the already immense museum seem even larger. Even the small giftshop seems larger with only the shop attendant behind the glass walls, restocking the postcard spinning display.
Another volunteer hands Dr. Morbius a pink button with a white M in the center of it. That the metal clip hasn't broken off from the obvious use and reuse is a bit of a miracle. As for the man in the hat. He is not lingering too long near the front as he starts drifting towards one of the back wings. He waves to one of the cheerful volunteers, giving a nod of recognition to the girl but not stopping to talk.
The doctor seems in a dour mood, unlike many other patrons, but he is here, his target is here and he absently clips the button to the side of his collar . o O (How cheerful he seems, despite what he is immersed in. Lack of guilt is a luxury he will ill be able to afford...in time."
As the hatted man makes his way further down the hall, it becomes more and more apparent that they have reached the Medieval Art section. Emptying out into a vast room with high cathedral ceilings, there are plenty of sculptures to every direction. Where an archway meets floor, another statue sits. In the center of the building, a gigantic metal structure fences across from one side of the building to the other, doors in the structure opened up to allow for guests to have to walk through the ornate gate in order to see the other half of the huge room. Beyond the open gate, another man stands, looking at a statue of Saint Michael.
That makes sense, the cards and all...Morbius thinks he knows what's going on, meeting in public means less chance of being overheard, sometimes. Taking that to heart, he walks into the gate, then right past the other man, as if interested in something beyond him.
The man who is was already there is much younger than the one in the hat. Quite fit and attire well kept in such manner that perhaps he could be a kindred spirit to the one he sees being honored before him.
The man in the hat moves to the side, eyeing another statue. There is silence for a bit before he eventually drifts over towards the man viewing the statue of Michael. "Ah. Saint Michael." He comments, walking over, clasping his hands behind his back. "A good work indeed. He originally had a lance. But as you can see, he no longer holds it."
Morbius looks over some other statuary, religion iconography...it calls to him, and he finds himself feeling a bit...unworthy to be in front of it. Mouthing a silent, short prayer he returns to listening . o O (Dragonslayer...) he's had time to think, cult? Overly dramatic turf war?
The man's head turns, looking to the man in the hat, seemingly unamused with the other man's commentary despite the obvious lack of lance in the statue's hand. "One of the quirks of statues. Michael can let go of the lance. Unlike Cadmus in that print, never dropping the spear."
"Ah yes. Cadmus." The hatted man agrees, "Such a sad scenario, losing so much, so quickly."
The doctor steps closer to the row of icons he is 'examining', wondering when they'll drop the annoying chit-chat and get down to business, as it were. Again, he laments the fact that detective work is really not his forte'.
The cheerful responses of the older man isn't quite making the younger man all that happy either. "He may have lost much. But there is something called overkill"
The elder gentleman's smile fades, voice lowering, "It was his turn."
"But it wasn't his dragon, there will be penance." the younger one hisses.
The pair go quiet for a moment, looking to each other before looking back to the statue.
. o O (More and more like a cult.) Morbius thinks, . o O (Perhaps it is both...some criminal enterprises tend to blur the lines...zealots, harder to make them break.)
The pause is lengthy as the pair start to wander over towards another statue, one not dragon related, and likely, purposefully away from where the Doctor is looking at items. Their voices lower, seemingly respecting whatever sanctity there is for a museum.
"He needs to stop before he gets turned into one." The younger man continues, glancing back to the Michael statue, "Keep the sword in a safe place until it's needed again. It'd be terrible if it got damaged anymore."
The elder man nods quietly. "I'll tell them." he murmurs.
Now they've lost him...turned into one? Dragon equals target? The sword? Too many questions...Morbius frowns, mulling this over...perhaps he needs help? But who can he trust?
If that wasn't confusing enough, this seems to be the extent of the conversation as the younger man walks off to another exihibit area, apparently having his fill of cathedral rooms and prefering the cozy decor of a crypt. The elder man lingers before he starts to wander over towards another statue to look to it. Silence.
