merendinoemiliano : Thank you so much! I'm planning on developing the relationship between Nepthys and Anubis (Annie) more in this story. She didn't get a lot of appreciation in the original series because she wasn't as 'powerful' as the other 5, but given the importance of the Nile, I would think of her as one of the most powerful. Besides that, I'm open to suggestions. I dislike hemophilia as well, as it can be just as damaging to equal rights as homophobia. I literally had to look up what yaoi was, but yeah, assuming people's sexuality or manipulating them for entertainment is messed up. I know that there are many fandoms that hypothesis Sadie is pansexual (given the fluid nature of her (SPOLIERS) relationship with both Anubis and Walt). I would love to incorporate this, but don't want marginalize anyone. Let me know what you think, and sorry for the length. Thank you again!
3. Imprisoned with My Cat
[Give me the bloody mic, Carla!]
Hullo. Samuel here. Sorry you've had to listen to my sister gab on and on about all the boring parts. For all the time that she spends with her nose in a book, you'd think she'd be a better story teller. But now you've got me, so all is well.
Let's see. The explosion. Rosetta Stone in a billion pieces. Fiery evil lady. Mum boxed in a coffin. Creepy Frenchwoman and Arab guy with the knife. Us passing out. Right. Did this really happen in the same day? And to think that this morning my biggest issue was that I procrastinated doing my English project.
So anyway, when I woke up, the police were rushing about as you might expect. They separated me from my sister. Part of me didn't mind that. She was a pain in the butt normally. But I almost felt bad for her. She looked shell shocked, clothing desperately onto mum's bag, staring at the spot where she sunk through the floor. I almost wanted to give her a hug. Almost.
The officers barely let me get a word out before dismissing my story. Logically, I couldn't blame them. I must have sounded bonkers. But at the moment, I didn't care about rationality. They dragged me down the hallway and locked me in the curator's office. And yes, they used our bicycle chain to do it. Cretins the lot of 'em.
I was shattered, of course. I'd just been knocked out by a fiery whatever-it-was. I'd watched my mum get packed in a sarcophagus and shot through the floor. I tried to tell the police about all that, but did they care? No.
Worst of all: I had a lingering chill, as if someone was pushing ice-cold needles into the back of my neck. It had started when I looked at those blue glowing words Mum had written on the Rosetta Stone. I still couldn't understand how I knew what they meant. A family disease, maybe? Can knowledge of boring Egyptian stuff be passed down? Judging by my luck, it could. I'd probably end up a nerdy, shut-in within the month.
Long after my gum had gone stale, a policeman finally retrieved me from the curator's office. He didn't bother asking me any questions, having probably been warned about the "crazy bloke". Either that, or he recognized me from the station. I had only had minor run ins with the law, but I always left an impression. It was the least I could do after being charged for a ring and run.
He just trundled me into a police car and took me home. Gramps opened the door with Gram by his side. They didn't look surprised, and I noticed that other officers had beaten us here. I tried to speak, but the man grabbed me roughly by my arm and dragged me upstairs. He pushed me forward, and said "Wait" before slamming the door.
So I waited.
.
.
.
And waited.
.
.
.
.
I don't like waiting.
I paced back and forth, glancing at the door every other second. My room was nothing posh, just an attic space with a window, a bed, and desk. There wasn't much to do besides do school work. And I was no were near desperate enough to resort to that. Muffin sniffed my legs and hissed, his tail puffing up like a bottlebrush. I suppose he doesn't fancy the smell of museums, which makes sense. I raised him well. I reached down to pet him, and he rubbed against me shortly before nipping my hand and disappeared under the bed.
"Thanks a lot," I muttered.
I desperately wanted to know what was going on downstairs. I tried the knob on the door, but it was locked. I know most door lock from the inside, but after my 3rd time sneaking out, Gramps switched it. They must have found his key. I pressed my ear against the wood, straining to hear anything. There were muffled voices and the creaking of wood, as if someone was pacing back and forth. Try as I might, I couldn't distinguish what they were saying or even who was talking. Defeated, I trudged back and flopped onto my bed.
I dug out my iPod and scrolled through my playlists. They were all customized to different situations. Sad. Angry. Hot girl. Nothing struck me. I guess there was no way I would have made one for "Mum disappeared, Questioning all beliefs". I threw it on my bed in disgust.
When I'm too distracted for music, that is a very sad thing. My iPod went with me everywhere. After all, there was almost never a situation that wasn't improved by music. I wondered why Carla got to talk to the police first. It wasn't fair. I remembered her face at the museum. She looked like she had shut down. The last thing she needed was to spend time going over every detail with the cops. I had experience with this sort of thing, but I was fairly certain the worst thing she had done was keep a library book too long.
I fiddled with the necklace Mum had given me. I'd never been sure what the symbol meant. Carla's was obviously an eye, but mine looked a bit like an angel, or perhaps a fancy napkin holder. Why on earth had Mum asked if I still had it? Of course I still had it. It was the only gift she'd given me since Dad died. Well, apart from Muffin, and with the cat's attitude, I'm not sure I would call him a proper gift.
Mum had practically abandoned me at age six, after all. The necklace was my one link to her. On good days, I would stare at it and remember her fondly. The way that she would sing along to oldies music in the car. The crazy school projects and Halloween costumes she helped us pull off. The times when I would break something, or put it away in the wrong place, but she wouldn't yell. She'd just say that it was a strange coincidence, and wink at me.
On bad days (which were much more frequent), I would fling it across the room and stomp on it and curse her for not being around. She chose Carla over me and even though my grandparents loved me, it hurt. I could barely stand being around Carla now (not that we got along well as kids anyway). Trying to destroy the necklace was incredibly therapeutic for me. I don't know what it is made of, but no matter what I did to it, it never broke. At one point, I tried setting it on fire out of frustration, and it didn't even blacken. I always but it back on though. Besides the fact that I did still love my Mum, it might be able to stop a bullet or something crazy.
I noticed the weirdness of the necklace again at the museum. During the whole ordeal with the fiery lady and the crazy lights, the necklace started getting really hot. Not to the level of burning me, but hot enough that it was uncomfortable. I nearly took it off, but I couldn't help wondering if it actually was protecting me somehow.
I'll make things right, Mum had said, with that guilty look she always gives me.
Good job! You failed!
What had she been thinking?! All I wanted was to believe it had all been a bad dream: the glowing hieroglyphs, the snake staff, the coffin. They all sounded like the results of eating too much food or coffee before bed. Things like that simply don't happen. But I knew better. I never dreamt anything as horrifying as that fiery woman's face when she'd turned on us.
"Soon, girl," she'd told Carter. The look she had reminded me of a hunter who has wounded her prey, and is waiting for it to tire itself before killing it. Just the idea made my hands tremble. It did not bode well that we were the prey in this.
Hey! Sorry its been so long! Senior year is killing me! I hope that I did an o.k. job with Samuel's chapter. I'm not a guy, so I have no idea how to write from the point of view of one. i tried to give him some additional character development that I felt would fit with his character. As far as the trouble he has been into, I'm not making him an evil mastermind or drug dealer. But I always felt that Sadie got along with Set the best of any of the characters. She is more tuned towards trouble (but obviously peace overall). It's also hinted at her getting into trouble. I wanted to take this chance to develop this a little more, so I hope you like it. I know it's a weird place to leave it. This chapter didn't have many good breaks in it. There may be some spelling/gender mistakes because I've been building a set all day and am half asleep.
Anyway, hope you liked it! Please review and give me suggestions to better this story or make others (or just stop XD ).
Cat
