I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu
At the Grand Palais, Paris France, October 20th 1925
3rd POV
The Scene opens up within the Grand Palais, in the 8th Arrondissement. It was packed with many people from around the world. A worlds fair was hosted in the city since March. The Exposition internationale des arts décoratifs et industriels modernes, as it was called. Where over 15,00 exhibits in arictecture and artistic futures were displayed by over twenty countries. Nearly sixteen million from around the world came to view the new art deco design that was heavily advertised to the world. While many are enjoying it, one seem rather board.
"Ugh… pouvons-nous s'il vous plaît rentrer à la maison?" (Ugh… can we please go home?) A familiar voice said as the view pulls in on the crowd. Amongst the hoards of international tourists was the familiar half plaster face of Nora Valkyrie. "Ç'est tellement ennuyant." (It's so boring.)
She was then smacked on the back of the head. "Shush, enfant. Il est grand temps que tu arrêtes de te comporter comme un enfant, ou à tout le moins que tu repousses tes pitreries de garçon manqué jusqu'à ce que nous rentrions à la maison. (Shush, child. It's high time you stop acting like a child, or the very least postpone your tomboy antics till we get home.)
Nora turns to Audrey who is looking after her. It's been… well it's been a strange few months for Audrey. Since that failed vacation back in February. It was a rather lot to take in for her. But after a few spoonful's, she learned the truth about her Husbands.. 'adoption'. Bless his heart as he'd always had a heart for the lonely or lost ones. But, must god had given him the most rambunctious one? It puts most mothers with flappers to shame. No it put all of them to shame! She'd knew of Nora's energy and strength but seeing her lifting her grand piano with a single hand and proceeded to juggle it, All be it not so well made the mother nearly collapse.
Then of course theirs the thought about her "friends." She had the pleasure to meet her friend Blake Belladonna. Admittedly she was a bit put off by her Cat ears. A Faunas as they were called on this Remnant, a secondary race that faced many of the same problems as those of African origins. Except the predigest was based off one's appearance of animalistic traits rather than the color of their skin. But after a long conversing through that strange device referred to as a scroll. She found her to be more her speed. In fact, they got into a lengthy almost pen pal conversation about E. M. Forster 'A Passage to India'. Shame she's being sent to Berlin. The reds were bad enough in Paris but Berlin, the Spartacus uprising had left it the reddest city in Europe besides Moscow. However apparently she is there to keep an eye on them, and she's glad of that. Though why she partners herself with that lush of a man she had no idea.
Since then, she has begun trying to educate Nora on how to behave appropriately by earths standards, though now knowing she can take a boulder she has modified her approach to be more assertive. This has been, a rocky approach so far, as Nora has made it clear she wouldn't change no matter how hard she tried. Despite this Audrey didn't give up, taking Nora out to the more lady like activities, including exploring Parisians artistic backgrounds, partaking in Brunch with those of higher status, and of course spending multiple sessions in the dining room on how to act lady like. None of this stick, she couldn't even enforce her to apply basic table manners. Her now latest attempt was to have her accompany her to the worlds fair. To show off the beauty of the whole world architectural skill, which was going as well as the previous
"C'est important. Faire l'expérience de l'intégrité artistique de la conception architecturale du monde entire." (This is important. To experience the artistic integrity of architecture design from around the globe.) Audrey said to Nora.
"Ugh, mais c'est tellement ennuyeux." (Ugh, but this is so boring." Nora complains only to get another smack on the back of the head. "Je ne sais pas, on ne peut pas déjeuner ? Au moins, ces drôles de morceaux de sucre dans l'exposition turque ont l'air amusants." (Can't we I don't know get lunch? At least those funny looking sugar cubes in the Turkish exhibit look fun.)
"Absolument pas. Oublier vos habitudes alimentaires obscènes, je suis surpris que vous soyez prêt à essayer n'importe quel aliment turc." (Absolutely not. Forgetting your obscene eating habits, I'm surprise you are willing to try any food from Turkey.) Audrey scolds.
Nora simply rolls her eye as she is dragged along to the next exhibit. Currently they were before the pavilion of Japan by Shichigoro Yamada and Iwakichi Miyamoto. Admittedly this one brought back memories of Mistral, especially the ones on the eastern and southern side of the continent. However that's were her interest ended. As the guide continued boring her immensely, her eye trailed off. Looking to the side. As she does she catches something. Right beside The pavilion of Japan was the Pavilion of Poland. Inside that model architecture of Polish decor she can see through the window what looks like an oil painting portrait. Of a Blond woman who'd strikes a familiar resemblance to someone she saw. but she only got a moment glanced of the women before being dragged away.
Elsewhere, a little more than a mile away from the fairgrounds, in the Louve, a young familiar boy can be seen drawing inside his sketchbook. It was the young Oliver. He was before a painting, sketching the details in his little artbook. As he scribbles away at them, a shadow over him. Looking up he see's his father looking down at his sketch. "Excellent travail Olivier. Votre talent artistique se manifeste." (Excellent work Oliver. Your artistical skill is showing.)
"Merci papa, ça faisait un moment que je voulais améliorer mon dessin, d'autant plus que ça peut aider Mme Val… Nora." (Thank you pappa, I wanted to improve my drawing for awhile, especially since it can help Ms. Val… Nora.) Oliver said as he goes back to scribbling on his sketch book.
Olivers reaction to Nora's origins vastly differentiate from his mother. She'd always thought those stories Nora told him was entertain, humbug, but entertain humbug. Only to learn that they were mostly true, blew the boys mind. Looking through the multiple photo's in her Scroll, seeing the world she comes from. It gave him a boon of inspiration, and has begun working harder on his sketching skills. Nora's friend Blake had gave him some tips and his talent improved both in and out of school. Which is why he's at the Louve with his father. As part of an assignment he was asked to sketch some of these paintings. Jobert couldn't help but feel proud of his son. As he watches him scribble and scratch away, he felt the abondance of fatherly joy. Course after a few moments a loud commotion interrupted Joberts pleasant thoughts.
"Arrête ça, pas de bon scélérat!" (Stop that no good scoundrel!) A loud voice comes by from a museum worker (replace it) as two men chased after a familiar looking young Algerian man.
"Hé! Pour information je suis une très bonne canaille!" (Hey! For your information I'm a very good scoundrel!) He said sarcastically before slipping past some of the museum staff. He dived, and ducked out of the way of the employees, much to the amusement of the young man and the bewilderment of the attendance.
One over confident employee lunges at the young man. Whom dived out of the way at the last minute causing the lunging man to run into some scaffolding that was behind the young man. The rickety metal pipes collapse and punctured the wall, putting holes through it. As the crowd gasps in shock, the young man slides before Jobert and his son, dusting himself off he looks up to see the two. Giving a cheeky smile, he quickly addressed the two.
"Oh, bonjour Olivier. Fait un moment." (Oh, Hello Oliver. Been awhile.) He said as he pulls himself to his feet.
"Hassan, qu'est-ce que tu fais ici." Hassan, what are you doing here?" Oliver asked with a raised brow. It's been, a long time since he had seen the Moroccan. Last time he saw him was a year ago, disappearing into the crowd of onlookers and panicking members of National Assembly.
"Oh tu sais, impressionner les dames. Causer des méfaits. Jouer avec l'autorité comme d'habitude." (Oh you know, impressing the ladies. Causing mischief. Playing around with authority the usual.) Hassan said cheekily before looking up, "Et vous devez être le père de Monsieur Oliver." (And you must be Mister Oliver's father."
"Jobert, et tu n'étais pas ce serveur ? Celui qui a aidé Mme Valkyrie?" (Jobert, and weren't you that waiter? The one who helped out Ms. Valkyrie?) Jobert asked with a raised brow. He didn't had the chance for proper introduction to Hassan, beyond their brief meeting last summer. When the Né du sang attempted a coup on the whole government. Before Hassan could answer the museum's employees had managed to get to their feet, and called out to Hassan to stop.
"Oups, c'est mon signal." Opps, that's my cue." Hassan said as he rushes down the hall, away from the employees, but not before calling back, "Transmettez mes salutations à la charmante Mme Ginger pour moi!" (Do give my regards to lovely Ms. Ginger for me!)
He disappeared deeper into the Louve as the employees rush after him. As they do, the Museums Curator rushes out, only to stop by Jobert. His advance age made it difficult for him to chase after the more spry younger man. As he tries to catch his breath he turned to Jobert to curse him out.
"Qu'est ce qui ne vas pas chez toi! Vous l'avez laissé s'enfuir!" (What is wrong with you! You let him get away!) The museum's curator snaps.
"Um, désolé, qu'est-ce qu'il a fait pour bien recevoir ce genre d'attention?" (Um, sorry, just what did he do to receive well, this kind of attention?) Jobert asked still contemplating what just happened, or why so many would chase down such a young man.
"Se faufiler dans le musée, se faire passer pour un guide touristique pendant des semaines, et maintenant destruction des biens du musée!" (Sneaking into the museum, impersonating a tour guide for weeks, and now destruction of the museum's property!) The Curator said as he points to the now massive hole in the wall. As he does, Oliver notices something, and rolls over to the wall to get a better look. As he does the Curator continues his rant to Jobert who was still confused on the whole scenario. "On avait finalement réussi à le coincer alors qu'il était à l'arrière et vous savez ce qu'il faisait?! Il était à l'arrière, c'était un putain de touriste qu'il avait escroqué! Ce n'était pas sa première et maintenant nous avons tout ce scandale auquel nous devons faire face!" (We had finally managed to corner him when he was in the back and you know what he was doing?! He was in the back, fucking one of tourist he swindled! She wasn't his first and now we have that entire scandal we have to deal with!)
"C'est… une assez multitude d'infractions commises par ce jeune homme. N'avez-vous pas appelé la police à ce sujet?" (That's… a rather multitude of infractions this young man committed. Have you not called the police on the matter?) Jobert asked the curator.
"Tu ne penses pas que je n'ai pas essayé ?! Chaque fois que j'appelle, l'affaire est écartée par l'inspecteur Hérisson. Dire que c'est peu prioritaire et nous demander de faire des foutus rapports au lieu d'affecter un seul policier à la Louve, tsk clairement qu'il n'a pas retrouvé ses billes depuis qu'ils l'ont laissé sortir de la maison de fous." (Don't you think I haven't tried?! Every time I call, the case is pushed aside by Inspector Hérisson. Saying it's a low priority and ask us to file damn reports instead of assigning a single police to the Louve, tsk clearly he hadn't gotten back his marbles since they let him out of the mad house.) The curators further complains before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Et puis il y avait vous, vous auriez pu l'arrêter mais vous et votre fils infirme êtes restés là et lui avez parlé comme si vous étiez de vieux amis ! Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez vous deux!" (Then there was you, you could have stopped him but you and your crippled son just stood there and talked to him like you were old friends! What is wrong with you two!)
Jobert broke free from his stumper, looking the curator in the eye, he was about to defend his son when his voice caught his attention. "Papa, monsieur le conservateur. Il y a quelque chose derrière le mur… je pense que c'est un tableau." (Papa, Mr. Curator. There's something behind the wall… I think it's a painting.)
This caught their attention. Looking at one another before slowly heading to Oliver, the two men, along with a small crowd of people waked over to the wall. Sure enough, what looks like the edge of an oil painting can be seen. Something was indeed behind the walls, but what? The curator looked around for something grabs the pipe from the fallen scaffolding. Turning to Jobert he hands him the scaffolding pipe.
"Um, monsieur, voudriez-vous m'aider?" (Um, mister would you assist me?) He said politely as he takes another. Jobert nods and takes the metal pipe. They used the scaffolding as crowbars, they tore away at the wall. The crowd watched with bated breath as they tore away at the wall. After a few heaves the old mixture of plaster and wood gave way and came crashing out was something horrifying. A large pile of dead bugs came crashing down like sand out of an hour glass.
The crowd gasped and shrieked at the sight of seeing hundreds if not thousands of dead bugs from cockroaches to large Arcadias. Their bodies mummified and dried from god only knows how long they have been behind the wall. As people slowly regain their senses from the shock of seeing an unprecedentedly large amount of dead bugs. They turned their gaze inward to see what seems to be, an oil painting. Jobert, being brave or not bothered by the bugs pulled out the painting, setting it aside for everyone to see. It was of a Dwarf. Playing Violin before what looked like Revolutionary Guards, all with a look of terror on their faces. It was painted extraordinary well, the sharp details gave the impression that the artist was there in the very room. What's more, it seemed there was more paintings in that little hiding hole.
Back at the Carron Estate, hours later dinner time.
It's been a rather interesting find. Overall five paintings were discovered within the walls, all beautifully yet disturbing to behold. At the bottom of each one was a strange mark that looks to be a G overlapping with an L with a strange Eye in it. It's suspected this to be the tortured artists symbol, though who he or she was left to debate.
"C'est incroyable. Le stylisme, la maîtrise de la couleur, c'est comme Van Groff avant qu'il ne se perde dans la folie verte." It's incredible. The stylizing, command of color, it's like Van Groff before he lost himself to the green madness." Oliver described to Nora and his mother at the dinner table.
"Ou déjà, à la façon dont tu le décris, ces portraits semblent être imaginés par quelqu'un qui est déjà dement." (Or already, by the way you describe it, these portraits seem to be conjured by someone who's already demented.) Audrey quips as she cuts into dinner. As she takes a bite from the Poulet chasseur after swallowing the piece did she continue. "Et vu qu'il était caché derrière les murs de l'Amour, je pense que c'est une bonne servitude qu'il l'ait été." (And seeing that it was hidden behind the walls of the Louve I think it's a fair easement that he was.)
"C'est plutôt drôle qu'il ait été découvert par hasard, comme un trésor caché." (Kinda funny that it was discovered by accident, like a hidden treasure.) Nora said with her mouth full much to Audrey's annoyance. "En parlant de, (burp) comment va Hassan?" (Speaking of, (burp) how is Hassan doing?)
"Nous n'avons pas eu l'occasion de parler davantage car il était pourchassé par la sécurité. Mais il semble apprécier le plaisir d'être un gamin." (We didn't had a chance to speak further since he was being chased by security. But he seems to be enjoying the thrill of being an urchin.) Jobert remarks before recalling, "Oh, il a demandé à présenter ses plus chaleureuses salutations à Mme Ginger. On dirait que tu lui as laissé une impression." (Oh, he did ask to give his warmest regards to a Ms. Ginger. Seems you left an impression on him.)
"Aw, c'est sympa. Peut-être que je peux voir s'il vit toujours dans son appartement miteux." (Aw, that's nice. Maybe I can see if he's still living in that shabby apartment of his.) Nora remarks, only to be shut down by Audrey.
"Absolument pas, la foire se termine dans une semaine et nous n'en avons pas fini. Demain matin, à la première heure, nous retournons au parc des expositions." (Absolutely not, the fair ends in a week and we are not finished with it. First thing tomorrow morning we are heading back to the fair ground.) Audrey said firmly.
"Awwww, allez. C'est tellement ennuyant." (Awwww, come on. It's so boring." Nora moans only to get a dirty look from Audrey that only a mother can give.
"Pas de gémissement. C'est inconvenant pour une Parisienne." No groaning. It's unbecoming of a Parisian woman." Audrey said firmly.
"Heh, désolé Mme Valky… (Nora!) Nora. Peut-être que ce week-end nous pourrons essayer de voir si nous pouvons le retrouver." (Heh, sorry Ms. Valky… (Nora!) Nora. Maybe this Weekend we can try and see if we can find him." Oliver chimes in. This made Nora feel a little better. Been awhile since she could get away from her overbearing host's wife.
"Bref, que va-t-il arriver à ces peintures?" (Anyways, what's going to happen to those paintings?) Nora asked turning back to the conversation.
"Je pense qu'ils l'ont déplacé à l'arrière, pour des reparations." (I think they moved it into the back, for repairs.) Oliver said as the view pulls to the side, emerging deep within the Louvre, an hour or so after, with his voice over hanging in the scene "Bien qu'étranges, bien qu'ils soient derrière un mur, Dieu sait combien de temps ils n'ont pas l'air vieux d'un jour." (Though strange, despite being behind a wall for god knows how long they look not a day old.)
As the voice dissipates with the changing of the scene, a single security guard is seen walking down the halls. Looking around for any signs of Hassan. Since the incident earlier in the day, security has increased in hopes of catching or scaring the vagabond away from the museum. Course all this did was entice the Moroccan with a challenge. When he fled the Louvre he left behind some… personal things, he wasn't going to leave it behind. As the security guard passes by, he slowly creeped out from behind the corner and made his way towards the backroom. Their he looked inside to see remains of his latest conquest. Looking over the filthy sheets that he had used to cover him and a Parisian beauty that he seduced he looked over the place. Quickly but quietly. After a few minutes of looking, tossing aside lipstick, fake tickets, and the womens panties she had left behind, he cursed himself.
"Merde, où est-il ? L'ont-ils déplacé?" (Shit, where is it? Did they move it.) He cursed himself as he looks around the room, only to pause when he heard the telltale steps of someone walking towards the door. "Merde." (Shit.)
He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it was, unlike anything he had heard before. The sound was beautiful yet haunting, something about the music sounded familiar. Drawn to it like a moth he slowly made his way towards the sound that echoed in the vents. As he crawled for what felt like hours he felt something. Looking down he see's his hands were covered in disgusting things. Maggots, flies, worms. It was a mass of crawling, slithers, buzzing buggy things that moved like a river over his hands. Normally this wouldn't freak him out but the mass of these insects in a closterphobic setting set Hassan off. Panicking as he attempts to backtrack, only to feel something behind him. Looking back he see's even more of these insects. So much more of them. What had covered his hands had become a wiggling wave of these horrid infestation. Now increasing threatening to drown the Moroccan.
"Par Allah, lâchez-moi ! Je suis trop jeune pour nourrir des asticots!" (By Allah get off me! I'm too young to feed maggots!) He screams out in a panic as the mass of bugs were crawling up his sleave. He tried to move but found it to get ever so difficult to leave, when he felt it. Something in the sea of wiggly things, a tight grip around his ancle. It was pulling him down as if he was being pulled under the waves. He let out a yelp in terror as he tried to break free. In that struggle the vent gave way and he fell.
Crashing down onto the cold hard ground of the lowest level of the Louve he was covered in the slithery slimy things. Swatting at the few that were still on him as he crawled back from underneath the pile in a fit of panic. As he crawls back, he accidentally bumped into something. Looking behind him he see's a painting on the Easels. Looking up, he see's a strange Painting. One of the few brought out from behind the wall. Enchanted by the painting, Hassan gets to his feet, shaking off what he had just experience and taking in the strange portrait. It was of a man painting, of a rather odd creature. It looked like a strange dog man hybrid. It's nude hairy body holding a bone in one hand and a De Flur in the other while draped in the French flag. It was a haunting visage to say the least yet still visually beautiful. As Hassan is lost in the portrait, his ears suddenly picked up the thud of footsteps on solid floor. He quickly broke free of the trance and looked around the room. Searching for a way out, but there was none. Least one that he would take. No way will he climb up into the vent again. So he looked around before spotting a crate. Acting quickly he hopped over the wooden box and hid out of sight. Just as a security guard walked down the steps.
"Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un ici?" (Hello? Is someone down here?) A security guard asked as he steps down the last stone step.
After a few minutes a voice from the side room called out. "Ouais! Wilfrid ? Je suis dans la pièce voisine." (Yeah! Wilfrid? I'm in the next room.)
Out stepped a man in a smock as he walked out of a side room with a cart full of chemicals. He seems to be the one restoring the painting, must've not heard the crash in the back.
"J'ai entendu quelque chose et… oh… c'est quoi." (I heard something and… oh… that's what." The security guard pauses as he looked up at the broken air duct that Hassan fell through. He shudders as he points his light to it, seeing all those bugs falling free onto the ground.
"Ugh, c'est dégoutant." (Ugh, that's disgusting." The conservator-restorer said with disgust seeing the mass of maggots fall from the broken air duct. "Comment la direction a-t-elle pu laisser une telle infestation se produire?" (How did management let such an infestation like this happened?)
"Je ne sais pas mais je vais signaler cette première chose. (Sigh) comme si nous n'avions pas assez de soucis." (I don't know but I'll report this first thing. (Sigh) as if we don't have enough to worry about.) The security Guard grumbles as he looks where he steps making sure not to step on to many bugs.
"Ouais, j'ai entendu. Laisse-moi ranger le tableau. J'aurais voulu finir ça avant le matin, mais pas avec ces choses qui menaceraient de ruiner l'art." (Yeah, I heard. Let me put away the painting. I'd wanted to finish this before morning but not with these things threatening to ruin the art.) The conservator-restorer said to the security guard as he turns to the painting.
"Très bien, soyez rapide… pouah. Combien y en a-t-il?" (Alright just be quick about it… ugh. How many are there?) The security guards said as he continued to watch as the masses of swarming insects continued to pour out onto the ground. As the mass of insects seen falling from duct was getting rather concerning, he was broken from his trance when he heard the conservator-restorer.
"Qu'est-ce que… où est-il?" (What the… where is he?) The conservator-restorer said with a surprised tone.
"Où est qui, Jean?" (Where is who, Jean?) The security guard said as he turns to the conservator-restorer.
"L'homme, il est parti." (The man, he's gone.) The conservator-restorer said as he points to the painting. The security guard turns to look at the painting that was on the Easels. Allowing Hassan to peak out of his hiding spot, just enough to see what they were talking about.
The painter from within the portrait was missing. Just a moment ago he was their painting that abomination, only to be now missing. Before even Hassan could question how a still photo could change withing seconds, he was forced back into his hiding spot as the guard turns around. Looking around believing somehow someone stole the painting and tried to leave a fake the guard begins to call out for anyone who was still in the room. As he searches, Hassan covered his mouth and holds still as he listens carefully for the footsteps of the security guard. As he listens carefully, he suddenly hears it again. That strange music begins to play. It grew louder and louder, till it was on the edges of his senses. So much so that it became deafening to the poor Moroccan. He covers his ears trying to block it out as it was only getting louder as if it were echoing in his head. The only thought that managed to break out of this deafening noise was how can it be that those two do not hear that ear piercing harmony from whatever that instrument from the violin family was playing! As he struggled with this stringed telltale heart, he found some courage to look out from his hiding spot… only to freeze in terror at what he witnessed. He watched as the two were being torn apart, their screams mixing with the acoustics of strings as their bodies were shredded to a gore filled splatter. The wiggling mass of insects will feast on their bodies, as the abdominal thing stood in a mist of swarming insectoid. Projecting a shadow of a humanoid creature that struck fear into Hussan as that defining music covered his screams of terror as the scene goes black.
Hello everybody, Wombag1786 here. So this was a short chapter. But has an interesting ending. Audrey is trying to make Nora more lady like (I'm sure she skipped over what ménage à trois really means.) Oliver seems to be inspired by Nora's stories. (Maybe he'll turned them into a comic. Which would be ahead of Bandes dessinées by 4 years) and now it seems we have a set up to a strange mystery. Just what could that music entail? Well let's find out, but for now let's answer some comments and questions.
From CrimsonWeresloth: Uh huh, and I should burn all of Germany down for giving us Hitler, communism, and scat porn. Even then I know what you're referring to and you would have no foresight. Certain things must happen call it a fix point in time. As without it then history will devolve into a spiral of what ifs that could end things on a more bitter note then they already are.
Thanks for writing Crimson
From Blackwing8: A few victories. Take em while you can. The L's humanity has are staggering.
They know… a lot. Not to give to much away but I've begun writing a full timeline of the in universe history. (Was a bitch seeing my starting point is the Bronze Age onward. When Atlantis was founded, to the exiled of the last Kaiser.) I'll give you this little snippet of what I have on the Pinkertons. Let your mind guess.
1819: Allan Pinkerton is Born
1850: Allan Pinkerton Founded the Pinkerton Detective Agency
1856: Kate Warne stole private papers from Blackwood's Chicago Division and handed it to Allen Pinkerton along with her resume.
1884: Allan Pinkerton Dies from a disputed disease
1884: Strange thing, happened, resulting in the Pinkertons learning about Blackwoods secret.
Bound to happen eventually. I try to space out the characters but eventually they do crossover.
Hope this short but interesting chapter interests you.
Thanks for writing Blackwing8
Well, with that done I look forward to the next chapter myself. This arc will reveal a secret many of you had missed in the previous arc. Course you will learn soon enough. Till then, please fav and fol the story. Leave a comment and or question bellow and I will answer in the next arc.
This is wombag1786 signing off.