Kindred Spirits 4.1
May. 23rd, 2020 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartKindred Spirits
by Soledad
Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Four
This was Nahir’s first visit to the Royal Ontario Museum, and he had to admit he was impressed, despite all the wonders he had already seen in his unnaturally long life. Despite the "Crystal," the multimillion-dollar expansion to the Museum, the canted walls of which did not touch the sides of the existing heritage buildings but were used to close the envelope between the new form and the existing walls. He simply found the new building ugly and ill-fitting in its traditional surroundings. But he’d observed in the many, many years of his existence that people liked to break the harmony of their surroundings, just to get attention, no matter what kind. Especially those who considered themselves artists.
Nonetheless, with its more than six million items and forty galleries, the Museum's diverse collections of world culture and natural history contributed to its international reputation, and that was something both Nahir and Prue could appreciate very much.
They were welcomed by a certain Ms Marlowe, one of the Museum’s curators, who apparently knew Henry Fitzroy quite well.
“Of course, it was Mr. Fitzroy Senior who had been the benefactor of our museum for quite a few years,” she explained, “but he always made his donations through his bank. Mr. Fitzroy Junior, however, has frequently visited our collections since the passing of his father. Even the non-public ones.
Especially the non-public ones, I bet, Nahir thought, exchanging a darkly amused look with his Childe. The thought of King Henry VIII patronising a museum was hilarious; of course, Ms Marlowe couldn’t know who Fitzroy’s father really was. Vampires of all kinds often pretended to be their own children and grandchildren, to avoid any undue interest from the side of mortals. Sooner or later people would notice if someone didn’t grow older at all.
Chatting away amiably – clearly, she was merely the head of Administration, not an archaeologist or a historian – Ms Marlowe took Nahir and Prue to the storeroom where the Museum’s meagre early Mesopotamian collection was kept. Mostly random pieces that had found their way here by accident, the particular era in which Nahir used to live in his Warm days not being among the Museum’s main interests.
Despite that fact, the collection was still ordered professionally. Items of daily use were in one section, small statuettes in another one, clay tablets in large wooden boxes, amulets and other cultic artefacts in a showcase, behind bullet-proof glass.
“These two are the ones that cause our experts the most headache,” Ms Marlowe opened the showcase with an elaborately wrought little key and indicated two amulets on the lower shelf. “They aren’t important enough to have a Carbon-14 dating made… we have to consider the costs, you know. So we were really happy when Doctor Sagara said she knew somebody who could probably authenticate them without one.”
“I can try,” Nahir replied. “If you’d allow my colleague to take detailed photos it would be helpful, though. Magnifying such photos can reveal details that otherwise remain invisible for the naked eye.”
Ms Marlowe nodded. “Of course, As long as you don’t damage the artefacts and don’t take them out of this room, they’re all yours,” she took an apologetic glance at her wrist watch. “I’m afraid I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Would an hour be enough for the preliminary examination of the objects? I’ll come back and let you out again then.”
“That is very generous of you, thanks,” Nahir answered diplomatically. He didn’t like the idea of being shut in, but he knew he could easily break down any doors to get out if needs must be. “We’ll take our photos and make our notes in the meantime, and return in a few days when we’ve analysed them.”
That was fine with Ms Marlowe, who couldn’t know that they needed those few days for Fitzroy to make a perfect copy, and so she left them alone. When they could be sure that she was out of earshot (and had searched the room for surveillance devices thoroughly), Prue looked at Nahir askance.
“What do you think of the objects, Sire?”
Nahir weighed one of the objects in his palm thoughtfully.
“This one is clearly an Akkadian seal from 2350-2150 BC, depicting the goddess Ishtar. That was the time when they showed her with weapons on her back, a horned helmet, wings and trampling a lion. These weren’t really cult objects; they did serve for protection, sure, but protection by the secular powers. They had no power on their own.”
“So this one is worthless, then?” Prue clarified.
“Worthless for our purpose,” Nahir corrected. “As an artefact of several millennia it is very valuable for the archaeologists. Take a few photos, just in case someone gets interested in our research… or Fitzroy can use them as inspiration.”
Prue nodded and did as she was told.
“What about the other object?” she then asked.
Nahir picked up the relic reverently. Oh, he recognized it at once; and, if the fine tremors running through the object were any indication, the amulet recognized him, too. It was made of meteoric iron – considered a sacred, heavenly substance at a time when bronze used to be the metal used for just about everything – and depicted a winged female figure in front of an eight-pointed star, standing on a pair of lions. The figure was naked, save for a conic headdress – which could or could not represent her hairdo, Nahir didn’t quite remember which was true – had feet like a bird of prey, held two symbolic tools in her hands and was flanked by two owls.
“She does have some Hindu traits,” Prue commented, eyeing the amulet with interest.
Nahir nodded. “Quite different from the warrior angel in whose memory people created her image, since spiritual beings do not have a specific gender. They are neither male nor female – or both, depending on your point of view.”
“What about demons, though?” Prue asked. “Some of them are real enough and can be considered as male or female, can’t they?”
by Soledad
Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Four
This was Nahir’s first visit to the Royal Ontario Museum, and he had to admit he was impressed, despite all the wonders he had already seen in his unnaturally long life. Despite the "Crystal," the multimillion-dollar expansion to the Museum, the canted walls of which did not touch the sides of the existing heritage buildings but were used to close the envelope between the new form and the existing walls. He simply found the new building ugly and ill-fitting in its traditional surroundings. But he’d observed in the many, many years of his existence that people liked to break the harmony of their surroundings, just to get attention, no matter what kind. Especially those who considered themselves artists.
Nonetheless, with its more than six million items and forty galleries, the Museum's diverse collections of world culture and natural history contributed to its international reputation, and that was something both Nahir and Prue could appreciate very much.
They were welcomed by a certain Ms Marlowe, one of the Museum’s curators, who apparently knew Henry Fitzroy quite well.
“Of course, it was Mr. Fitzroy Senior who had been the benefactor of our museum for quite a few years,” she explained, “but he always made his donations through his bank. Mr. Fitzroy Junior, however, has frequently visited our collections since the passing of his father. Even the non-public ones.
Especially the non-public ones, I bet, Nahir thought, exchanging a darkly amused look with his Childe. The thought of King Henry VIII patronising a museum was hilarious; of course, Ms Marlowe couldn’t know who Fitzroy’s father really was. Vampires of all kinds often pretended to be their own children and grandchildren, to avoid any undue interest from the side of mortals. Sooner or later people would notice if someone didn’t grow older at all.
Chatting away amiably – clearly, she was merely the head of Administration, not an archaeologist or a historian – Ms Marlowe took Nahir and Prue to the storeroom where the Museum’s meagre early Mesopotamian collection was kept. Mostly random pieces that had found their way here by accident, the particular era in which Nahir used to live in his Warm days not being among the Museum’s main interests.
Despite that fact, the collection was still ordered professionally. Items of daily use were in one section, small statuettes in another one, clay tablets in large wooden boxes, amulets and other cultic artefacts in a showcase, behind bullet-proof glass.
“These two are the ones that cause our experts the most headache,” Ms Marlowe opened the showcase with an elaborately wrought little key and indicated two amulets on the lower shelf. “They aren’t important enough to have a Carbon-14 dating made… we have to consider the costs, you know. So we were really happy when Doctor Sagara said she knew somebody who could probably authenticate them without one.”
“I can try,” Nahir replied. “If you’d allow my colleague to take detailed photos it would be helpful, though. Magnifying such photos can reveal details that otherwise remain invisible for the naked eye.”
Ms Marlowe nodded. “Of course, As long as you don’t damage the artefacts and don’t take them out of this room, they’re all yours,” she took an apologetic glance at her wrist watch. “I’m afraid I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Would an hour be enough for the preliminary examination of the objects? I’ll come back and let you out again then.”
“That is very generous of you, thanks,” Nahir answered diplomatically. He didn’t like the idea of being shut in, but he knew he could easily break down any doors to get out if needs must be. “We’ll take our photos and make our notes in the meantime, and return in a few days when we’ve analysed them.”
That was fine with Ms Marlowe, who couldn’t know that they needed those few days for Fitzroy to make a perfect copy, and so she left them alone. When they could be sure that she was out of earshot (and had searched the room for surveillance devices thoroughly), Prue looked at Nahir askance.
“What do you think of the objects, Sire?”
Nahir weighed one of the objects in his palm thoughtfully.
“This one is clearly an Akkadian seal from 2350-2150 BC, depicting the goddess Ishtar. That was the time when they showed her with weapons on her back, a horned helmet, wings and trampling a lion. These weren’t really cult objects; they did serve for protection, sure, but protection by the secular powers. They had no power on their own.”
“So this one is worthless, then?” Prue clarified.
“Worthless for our purpose,” Nahir corrected. “As an artefact of several millennia it is very valuable for the archaeologists. Take a few photos, just in case someone gets interested in our research… or Fitzroy can use them as inspiration.”
Prue nodded and did as she was told.
“What about the other object?” she then asked.
Nahir picked up the relic reverently. Oh, he recognized it at once; and, if the fine tremors running through the object were any indication, the amulet recognized him, too. It was made of meteoric iron – considered a sacred, heavenly substance at a time when bronze used to be the metal used for just about everything – and depicted a winged female figure in front of an eight-pointed star, standing on a pair of lions. The figure was naked, save for a conic headdress – which could or could not represent her hairdo, Nahir didn’t quite remember which was true – had feet like a bird of prey, held two symbolic tools in her hands and was flanked by two owls.
“She does have some Hindu traits,” Prue commented, eyeing the amulet with interest.
Nahir nodded. “Quite different from the warrior angel in whose memory people created her image, since spiritual beings do not have a specific gender. They are neither male nor female – or both, depending on your point of view.”
“What about demons, though?” Prue asked. “Some of them are real enough and can be considered as male or female, can’t they?”
