Missing Home

[Cinna]

Janosiribus hated England, with its fog and chilling wind. He was too old for this weather, and his ancient bones creaked with every shuffling step he made. Oh, how he longed for Egypt! The warm sand, the bright sun, how much he missed them both! Here, there was nothing. No scent of spices in the air, no mysteries buried in the sand. There was only smog and a frightening array of sounds. The male sighed and slowly lowered himself down and carefully wrapped his silk bandages around his legs, feeling utterly homesick. The bandages, that was all he had left of his home.

Since 2700 B.C. he had lived in Egypt, and he knew every acre by heart. He had rested in the sands of the Sahara, patrolled the pyramids, and even ventured into Cairo late at night. And then he had been murdered.

Well, actually, not murdered. It was an accident, and the creature responsible had very kindly mummified him, though why it had bothered always puzzled him. It was fine at first, he felt nearly as good as new. But then the hot Egyptian weather started to, well, disagree with him. He was close to losing a leg before he was able to catch a barge to England.

He had been so excited to reach England at first; London was at one time perfectly amusing. It was only after he realized he knew little English that his interest began to wane. And although in the cold his limbs were solid, they also caused him unspeakable pain. But he could never go back, so do so would mean to die a second time.

But Janosiribus was not a completely pessimistic creature, and even his biased mind had to admit London had ample amounts of beautiful art. Even now, sitting in the abandoned park and listening to the wildlife, he felt at much at ease as he felt in Egypt. Perhaps he could find a future here, if only his English was better!

The mummy rose with a wince and continued his slow gate towards the north. He had been exploring the park every evening, and had seen many new things, a maze among them. But he had never managed to reach the northern edge, and he had nothing better to do anyway.

He traveled listening to the silence, looking at the stars, when all of a sudden he came upon the strangest thing he'd ever seen. It was a beautiful dome, painted in pastels, and underneath a dozen or so horses reared and galloped. Each one was painted differently, and some even had wings. Janosiribus circled the contraption several times, wishing to know what exactly this unusual instrument was.

[Shinigami]

Suddenly a scent drifted through the air, one that would be intimately familiar to the mummy, one that he had been longing for - the familiar smells of Cairo's markets, of dust and sand, and exotic spices and perfumes. Kebiemusishere walked gracefully along the available path, disdaining human form for now, though she still held the ever-present grace and beauty that marked the carriage of a Marionette. Her forelegs were wrapped in strings of gleaming beads, straight from an Egyptian glassblower who had been a friend of her father's, who had loved to decorate her bare human form in glass jewelry of all types. But above all, she'd always loved his beads, and when she left to travel the world, he gifted her with the purple adornments she now always wore.

England was such an intriguing place to one so young, even though she'd visited the place before. There she had met such a charming young Script Writer for a dalliance - what was his name again? Something that almost sounded like it would be at home amongst the Sands. Atreju, that was it. He'd been a delight while she was visiting, though he'd left her with a rather more permanent reminder of the city. Even now her shapely belly was distorted with obvious pregnancy, though she showed no other signs than that bulge. She wouldn't allow her beauty to become so marred.

Up ahead she caught sight of a thing...what was it called again? A carousel, that was it. Or something like that. She'd watched it in her human form, clad loosely in silks that draped and revealed her body to all observers, while children had ridden around and around, as if imitating the desert-dwellers who held such strong bonds with their equine mounts. There was a figure circling it as well, one that she initially had trouble recognizing, until its exact nature made itself apparent to her: not only a Euclides (she was fairly sure of that), but a mummy of Egypt. One of the great ancestors, returned to the living as she had always been taught.

"Greetings, honored one," she said softly in her best Ancient Egyptian, the formal language that she had been taught for the ceremonies that her family held. Kebiemusishere bowed her head and body as best she could, avoiding an awkward motion that would involve her belly. Her blank white eyes, behind the mask, were fixed solely on the mummy.

[ooc: Yay for the Egyptian characters! *runs past, giggling*]

[Cinna]

{ooc| Haha, definitely!}

Absentmindedly the male approached a particularly beautiful equine, humming under his breath. It was a pure white creature with a fiery red mane and strikingly black hooves that matched its eyes. It was, unlike the others, in slight disrepair, and it was unable to be ridden. Despite that, there was something unusual about it, a ferocity that wasn't seen in the others, who now seemed docile in comparison. Perhaps it was just him over-thinking things, but he played with the idea that it was the wild one in a herd of domesticated beasts.

But really, how ridiculous of him! The machine was obviously only used for amusement, and here he was philosophizing. It was probably for children, but night had fallen, and so it held an air of mystery. Janosiribus was a protector of all things beautiful (he had, after all, lived in one of the most beautiful environments in all the world) and so although the contraption confused him, he could not help but be fond of it.

A voice? With a creak he turned his head and blinked with surprise. Was there one like him venturing here? And not even just an Euclides, but an Egyptian. He could tell immediately, she held her body like one regal, poised and exotic. No one in England could do the same. Slowly he made his way off the platform, mindful of his bandages, and stood before her, a tilt of his head revealing his curiosity.

"Greetings," the male said in his surprisingly smooth, regulated voice, completely opposite of his torn appearance. His language matched hers in formality, but there was a difference in accent that belied his archaic age. He nodded his head to her bow, and noticed the awkward way she bowed. Was she pregnant? It was difficult to tell, she hid herself well.

"I hope you will forgive me, but I am unable to give you the respect you deserve. If I bend much lower, I shall not be able to right myself," he explained with his weary smile.