14726/Meanwhile, in Antarctica...

Meanwhile, in Antarctica...
Date of Scene:	24 February 2023
Location:	Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis:	Sinister seems to have broken. Attempts by Lucifer to reset him, lead to a revelation that Nathaniel Essex truly is one of his own worst enemies!
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer

---

Sinister has posed:
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, jack frost nipping at your nose...

Well, the penthouse has the open fire thing at least, but the weather outside IS frightful. A February storm is hammering tiny ice-pellets on the windows and New York is covered in a dusting of snow. The flames keep the place just peachy keen and slightly overly warm, just the way that the Devil likes his earthbound perma-vacation home away from home.

It seems that the cleaner came by today, because everything is spick and span, smelling fresh, polished, dusted and vaccuumed. But it is, it must be said, very quiet up here. Too quiet? Maybe.

Sinister is lying on the couch, dead still, fingers laced over his midriff and eyes closed. He's wearing lounge about the house clothes, loose slacks and a white T-shirt, socks but no slippers and his palor is the true Sin under the human guises that he often wears.

Lucifer has posed:
When the weather outside decidedly becomes an Ice Cavern that could put Mr. Freeze to shame, Lucifer tends to stay inside. Not only inside, but it's very likely he's not leaving his penthouse. Not for errands, not to the club downstairs, very much content with sitting in front of the roaring fire, bundled up in fleece and wrapped in a blanket.

Maybe it is quiet. Too quiet. Sometimes, that's also okay. There doesn't always have to be noise, and the quiet is deafening enough one can almost hear every single crackle of the wood in the fireplace. The snap and pop of a log nearing it's breaking point.

"...Someone needs to turn the heat back on outside...also...you seem a bit broody. Everything alright?"

Sinister has posed:
"Nnnfffmm," is the very coherant reply. Was he actually asleep? The answer to that is complicated, but the TL;DR version is 'not really'. It is with an abnormal slowness that he stirs though, sitting up slowly and with some careful attention to looking very carefully around. "What the..." the next thickened tones to fall from his mouth, he struggles to sit up and looks around at the scenery with eyes blinking dazed. "...Wait..." is proffered, as he rubs a palm over his face, only to afterwards stare at his own hand, turning it about at the wrist.

"I'm terribly sorry, but... where am I? Did I pass out in a tavern again? This seems to be rather too nice for a drunk tank though and I appear to have been dipped in chalk make-up."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer blinks, turning his head to glance back and then tilts it ever so slightly one way. "You're...home? In the Penthouse. Where you've been for the last...well give or take a year and some change maybe?" This and then he turns to face Sinister fully which will give his front some reprieve from the straight heat source and allow his back to soak some in for the time being. "...Tavern? No. This...do you mean like an honest tavern from the old age, or what the humans try to pass as a tavern these days?" A pause. "...You feeling alright?"

Sinister has posed:
The look of puzzlement and foggy headedness doesn't fade all that much, as he's questioned. "Tavern. Pub... you know, an establishment of drinking and occasionally whoring. I occasionally end up in the Nag's head in Bethnal Green, it seems like. I don't know why that rat hole keeps pulling me back in..." he gestures at the wall of whiskey vaguely by way of explanation. There's also a sigh, as he settles in a semi-upright seat.

"This is home? I fear that the answer is no, my fine fellow. The last I remember is blurry at best and I believe there was a great deal of ... of... gin."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer blinks again. This time he shifts to stand, folding the blanket over to set aside. "I very bloody well know what a tavern is, and there hasn't been a proper tavern anywhere since... gods know when." This much as his hands move to his hips and he stares Sinister down. "Did you hit your head the last time you were in your lab or something? Or is this a clone playing a trick? Sinister. Do you not recognize me? Lucifer Morningstar. In the flesh?" Well, this could go a few ways, and south is one of them. He just has to figure out how to fix it. Which is fine right? It's all fine. It'll be...fine...yes... ... ... right?

Sinister has posed:
"What is a clone?" Oh dear. It's followed up with "Lucifer Morningstar?" The name is repeated, then with a small burst of uncertain but wary laughter. "The..." but there's something. There's no colour to drain from his face, as he's pale as snow, but the wary smile fades, tension around his eyes follows and then a firming of the lips and a gathering of personal dignity. And then a frown. And a blink.

"Wait..." again, that single word is said, hands coming to rest on the edge of the couch as he tenses to stand but never actually does, leaning forward in his posture and staring at the fire. "Heat in the middle of the blistering cold. Did I read something in the broadsheets about... the expedition?" that last little bit is said distantly, like he's speaking only to himself.

Transfixed by the middle distance and the dance of the flames, the burgeoning glow of the ruby diamond on his forehead begins to flicker to life.

Lucifer has posed:
"Well, of course I've got a fire going because it's cold outside and even though I run hot, I hate the cold. You...do realize it's not like...the 1800s or something, yes? This isn't the Renissance, or the Wild West...it's...modern times and you're in a modern building..." Lucifer skips right over the whole 'yes, the devil' for the moment. That's not important right now. What seems to be important is getting Sinister to realize who and where he is right now.

As the diamond on his forehead flickers to life, Lucifer tilts his head a little. "The fuck did you do? Factory reset yourself? You're going to give me a complex, Sinister...or should I call you Nathaniel? Which name do you recognize better? Also...you should know what a clone is, you likely coined the phrase before anyone else with all your genetic manipulating abilities and scientific quandries..."

Sinister has posed:
Shaking his head a little, he focuses again. Factory reset? "You mean it's logistically possible? They thought it was impossible!" Well, that got his interest which might have been a good thing! But disbelief colours the flickering ruby and it fades out again, focus fading away. He stands, replaying over what just was said, strange words judging by the expression he wears, but with it, he looks from Lucifer to the fire, to the few lights that are on about the place and walks over toward one, right up close so that he can reach a hand out and touch the glass bulb with its fillament within. "He was right..." a touch of wonder in his tone, he moves to the window then to look out at the alien world beyond the pane of glass. It transfixes him for half a minute and more, his right hand coming up to rest against the surface of the window pane, and the reflection showing that both his eyes and the diamond are beginning to glow again -- and that is also when he /notices/ that fact and freezes, staring at his own reflection. The hand that glued to the pane reaches to that reflection and traces a face he seems to only partially recognize. "Nathaniel," he replies softly. "By all logic, when nothing else makes sense..." he looks at himself pained and turns enough to look over his shoulder.

"I imagine if your expression and all that you have just said is to be the judge, I may have inadvertantly.. what did you call it? Factory reset myself? Beyond that, I could not begin to guess. You truly are...?" that title that wasn't addressed. "Hmm. You must be. I don't seem to be surprised, now that I think on it."

Well, THAT is progress. Right? A good sign. Yes, yes.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer continues to watch, actually genuinely interested in what's going on in the moment. Also trying to rack his brain to try and remember if Sinister ever told him a trick or something to do if he ever acts like this. He can't rightly, readily recall anything but he'll keep trying to remember as the night progresses. "You mentioned gin. I can get you gin...but you've usually been a fan of cognac..." He offers as he walks over to the wall of whiskey, selecting the one bottle of cognac there and pours a glass. Walking it over to Sinister then he smiles.

"Well. I am Lucifer Morningstar and yes, I am also the Devil. In the flesh. Prince of Hell, now Earth-bound because Hell got very...very boring." He explains this. "You and I met about a year ago, downstairs at the bar I own - I've called it Lux for giggles sake. And, the reason why you are here, upstairs, and I called this your home... is because for the last..oh...six months or so? We've been in a relationship. Which has baffled many a person to think that the Devil, the Master of Sin, the Lover of Lust and all Bad Things - trademark - could possibly fall in love and yet..." He gestures then. "You walked into my life, we strolled down the boardwalk, bonded over ices and a snowglobe...and I haven't looked back. Haven't wanted to either."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister turns slowly to a right angle with the windowpane, so by the time the cognac is being acquired, he is no longer strictly with his back turned. The mind might have to wrack itself a goodly while, this, by all surface recollections at least, is spanking new. It seems to be a measure of the man, that faced with such new insight, he does not recoil, but turns to face, looking to the glass that's offered, then from it to the face of the Devil in human form. "My word," a little absently, he takes the cognac in hand, but does not take his eyes off of Lucifer. Another frown, but then a nod. "I do not find myself feeling strange about that. I just... don't seem to be able to recollect it as a thought, only a sensibility."

His left hand is lifted, reaching for the devil's face and the bestubbled cheek. He hesitates though, manners digging in. "May I?" Oh, a strange thing, to once more face the fellow that persistently, but politely stuck to his manners, even in courtship.

Lucifer has posed:
"Worse has become of us. Together and separately. We've gotten thru those moments. We'll get through this one as well." Lucifer offers. His voice is even, though he can't help but have inflections in his voice because it's the one he settled on. British, for all good that does him, and he smiles. Apparently he doesn't even seem pained, not even a little bit. Then again, he can be very very good about hiding his true feelings.

Eyes shift quick to the left hand and back again. The manners that Sinister has reverted back to actually causing Lucifer to give a little smirk both at the present offering and the memory it sparks within him. He shifts just a touch closer. "By all means..."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's head tilts just the faintest trace, eyes narrowing an equally trace at the smirk, attempting to puzzle it out it seems. But then, with permission granted, he gives a tiny nod. Taller than Lucifer by several inches, he looks down, as he did before a time past, with a sense of drinking in the entirety with a thorough and significant purpose: All the nuances, all the tiny perfect imperfections, the contours of bone structure, the minutae, the glint in the depths of eyes.

And he brings palm to stubble, smooths it back toward the jaw and reaches with his thumb to stroke the height of cheekbone, cupping with fingers pressed in oh-so-faint.

"I know you," reaffirmation is made with a tone of wonderment. "I never would have thought..." and a shake of the head also "...I drank my sorrows away, once. It seems to me, like it was yesterday. But there isn't pain where there ought to be pain, only the knowledge that it /was/ there. What..." he stops, inhales, perseveres. "What happened to me?"

His thumb strokes.

"This is not the face of the man I knew. I do not recognize myself."

Lucifer has posed:
Something about this, even though Lucifer has felt Sinister's touch time and again, there's a tenderness here that he's missed. Just a little. His eyes briefly close, and when they open again they flash with a spark of hellfire before he leans into that hand to nuzzle it just so.

"I think the face you have now is a face created over many years. Many genetic alterations later...as you've tried to make yourself into...I would say the perfect person but I don't think that's quite what you're aiming for..."

A frown crosses his lips this as he looks Sinister over a moment. "I wonder..." And he holds up a finger, then does his best to use the Sin-Tech to pull up...files. Research notes. Perhaps older photos Sinister might have of himself. "Nathaniel Essex. Now known as Mister Sinister.... perhaps these will help jog your memory?"

Sinister has posed:
An entranced smile plays against Nathaniel's face for a moment, at the nuzzle and flash of flame. Tenderness and wonderment are shamefully sentimental. Perhaps that's why they are occasionally let out to play, but might otherwise be perceived by the rational Geneticist as a weakness. Even when he knew. Even whwen he felt so strongly. But he is currently unfettered. Unbound by such notions.

Well. On the UP side of this, the Sin-tech is very intuitive. It's like a touch-screen wtihout the touching of anything but the air.

And the very use of it startles but fascinates the man that witnesses it, his lips parting as he gazes at... well, at the files of himself. "Good grief," he manages that first, the hand holding cheek falls to the slide of neck and down to shoulder to steady himself. "...I don't understand." The lament is touched with confusion. "Why would I do that to myself? Make myself look so... inhuman? Surely... surely I must be pariah." He blinks, the diamond flashing with a hint of light again.

The cognac is tossed back, the glass not floated away, but set with a stoop on the coffee table, then to reach with the free hand for the holo-imaged files, flicking them as if he were looking at a portfolio, after a moment of astonishment that there isn't any actual paper floating there. "I am... how... " flick flick flick "...world wars. We are in the colonies. I'm two... centuries old?!"

Lucifer has posed:
"I think...I think it began because of a disease. Your...mother? Was sick? ...or was it further than that? Perhaps the wife and child...children?" Lucifer is very bad at remembering things on the fly he only heard once upon a time. Not to mention, Sinister was always very methodical about the telling of such stories. Trying to keep emotions unattached. Or something.

"Maybe it is the perfect human genome that you've been looking for. Along the way you've given yourself many a power from certain mutants. You have telepathy. Telekenesis. You can fly...with and without wings. Oh. You have wings now. Angelic ones. Because you spliced a bit of my angel with yourself. It had... interesting affects..." Lucifer pulls up other files on another 'screen', because with Sin-Tech you could fill the room with screens and it would be fine.

Sinister has posed:
"Good grief," There's that phrase again. "I was right then. Hot damn, I was /right/!" Yes, you were Sinister. You were about a century ahead of your time in some respects, more in others. All of that though, the entirety of it, has a range of emotions after that flash of pride. Grief again, unfettered and unhampered by the scientific compartmentalization that he's rigorously cultivated, makes a stark picture on his face. "My son, Adam. My wife. She was not the most hale and hearty of women. My daughter... Madeline, stillborn. I drank. There was a man, a foreign fellow who took an interest in my work after I was laughed out of the royal society, by the name of En-sabah Nur. Egyptian, I think. I had planned to go and speak to him. Then there was... oh, it's all a jumble"

He gazes at the new screen, awash with a rapidly increasing need to understand, his hand on Lucifer's shoulder gripping hard, as if he were a man on the edge of a very long drop.

"I ... spliced..." excuse me. I'm just going to lose control over my knees now. He sits down on the couch again with a thump. "If I am so gifted, how did I end up in this ludicrous state? My instinct is to say I must have been doing something..." He stares, then looks up at Lucifer.

"I don't think I'm quite right in the head. Am I?"

Lucifer has posed:
"You're asking the Devil if you're not quite right in the head. I don't think anyone is quite right in the head, so I'm not the best person to be asking that in the long run..." So Sinister's retained some memories but not...all of them? Or somehow there's something getting in the way of... oh hell's bells. This isn't something Lucifer can put back together...and the only one he'd call on to help with something like this is the one in the middle of the crisis to begin with.

"Maybe if we went to one of your labs...that might spark a bit more, yes? I mean....well I don't know what I mean. I'm not a genius in any regard, I rely on you for this..." He gestures. "And you have relied on me for the benefits and explanation of magick..." He sighs. A part of him wants his Sin back...well every part of him wants his Sin back...but to also help this Sin. His Sin? He's not entirely sure at the moment.

Sinister has posed:
His memories seem to be intact before a specific event took place. That business he's never actively shared, leastwise not specifically, or with helpful mental illusions to illustrate.

"Magic is real? Oh, well, that would be logical. If the devil himself is real and I am..." he looks over his shoulder at the window again, at the inhuman visage he crafted and the one that the alterations he made to himself settled on "...this. Why would it not be?"

He stares at his reflection again for a while, then reaches for the diamond of ruby quartz imbedded in his flesh. "I had been doing a modicum of research on a stone that looks a lot like this. It refracts and focuses energy. Clockmakers had been using metric quantities of such gems for many a year to make mechanisms accurate. Archimedes torch was supposedly a perfected prism..." he looks back at Lucifer. "Would the lab help? I am not sure where I would begin. I cannot imagine that I would be using archaic equipment and this is all rather novel to me." He gestures a nod at the Sin-screens floating in the air.

"But if magic is real, would there not be a way to invoke restoration, somehow?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer considers this for a moment and then turns to the wall of literary items he has, a hand lifting to stroke at his chin some. "There might be a way or few to try and unlock the part of your brain that's locked away for some reason." He shifts to approach the library wall, skimming over books and their titles. "You remember me, but you don't. When you woke up from - what I thought was - your nap...you spoke of a tavern...and thought you had perhaps been taken to a drunk tank..." The wheels in Lucifer's head are beginning to turn and he shifts to set his gaze on Sinister once more. "Tell me. What is your absolute solid last memory? What were you doing? Were you with anyone? More details are better than less...year, area you were in, all those things..."

Sinister has posed:
Settling into the couch back with a measure of hunching into it that bespeaks a highbacked chair and brooding, Sinister draws one leg up and hooks the knee with his forearms, resting his chin upon the knee. He curls toes in his sock, like talons over the edge of the leather, which is a familiar gesture, at least... of which he seems unaware.

"It was the winter in the year of our lord eighteen hundred and sixty. November, I think. There was rain. My wife had discovered... that I had kept our son preserved, whilst I hunted for a cure. She was distraught... the society had lambasted me and barred me from their presence and I was... I was... I was sure I was due to meet a fellow. I think I went to the docks to meet him. A fellow named Cootie..." He frowns harder, looking angry at his recollections. "They attempted to rob me. It did not work according to their plans and... then..."

There's silence for a while. "Now. I woke up now. I think I had resolved to do something, but I cannot remember with clarity what it was."

Lucifer has posed:
"So. In your proper minds eye, you're married. You've had a stillborn daughter. Your son is preserved for the sake of finding a cure..." Lucifer points out the other facts that would be tied around the story that Sinister has given. "The actual year is 2030...and between the centuries you have developed milestones of genetic specialization and singularity achievements. Your son - unfortunately - I believe passed. As did your wife. You lost your mind at some point and focused very strongly on your work. Grafting from any source you could find, a lot of them were mutants where you pulled genetic markers to give yourself the mutated gene and thus the mutated power. And now I have the distinct pleasure of trying to figure out how to unlock all those memories which will cause them to come flooding back..."

He turns back to his library then. "I hope your mental stability is able to withstand such once we figure out HOW."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister thinks on this, the frown and his face from the nose up very visible where he hugs that knee. "Mmmmmmmyes..." he says after a while, "...Rebecca is dead. She died shortly after giving birth to little stillborn Madeline. There was a fire, which I set. I razed our home and salted the earth." The words sound dull in the ear, hollowed out by a misery that could easily become rage at a moment's notice. A mind in crisis, for sure, that perpetrated worsening and worsening horrors. A man that at this point in his relevant history, had nothing left to lose and nothing left to live for, except the one thing that would eventually drive him into becoming who he becomes.

If one were to consider the trouserlegs of time, this would be a point where Nathaniel was sitting on the crotch seam and could tip down either leg.

Lucifer has posed:
"Well we could try a few things..." Lucifer finally offers, pulling a few books from the library shelf finally. "I've got a couple native vision quests, a few mindwalking theoretics. I could call up the local magic shop and see if Willow has any expertise on stuff like this..." A couple more books are pulled. "Meditation and chakra alignment. Ritualistic lockpicking. Hypnosis." The books are then brought over and set on the coffee table. "Pick your treatment?"

Sinister has posed:
The laundry list of potential snake-oil or spectacular mind-enema are blinked at as he lowers his leg off the couch, staring at all the possibilities with a shuffle to sit more upright once again. "I feel I should know what is likely a bunch of hooey and which is liable to prove effective, but at the moment, all I can honestly say is please do not attempt trepanning." He smiles wide at that, clearly a joke at least in his mind. "That treatment -never- works. Although, I have observed that when the patient survives, hemisphectomy does cure extreme epilepsy." Ohh, that old cupcake. Yes, cut the corpus collosum of the brain and watch as the person is a vegetable, back in the day. But at least they're a vegetable that isn't having seizures.

Both hands get lifted to his head, running palms over the scalp and holding the thick black length of hair firmly to his neck. "Are any of them more effective, ah... mystically... that others?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer takes a breath in and then out, even though he doesn't really need to breathe, it helps with filling the moment that he needs to think things through. "The problem lies in the fact that I don't know what's locked your memories away. Clearly there's leaks, because you know you know me, but the actual solid knowledge is gone. You're stuck in a year and time." He taps his fingers against his chin and looks at all the options. "I've known the native things to work quite well. The indigenous people knew what they were doing. And it involves ingesting herbs and such rather than... a whole menagerie of mystical hobknob... other ideas...." He sighs softly and then shakes his head. "I think a part of me is also...worried. I...I don't want to end up hurting you..."

Sinister has posed:
"Hmm. A valid concern. I would assume that you are rather powerful, being who you are, hmm?" Sinister nods, still holding onto his neck as if to make sure that his head doesn't go and do a silly thing like falling off.

A long moment is spent just gazing at Lucifer, as if also trying to work out whether signs of immense cosmic power are particularly visible to the casual naked eye. They aren't, it seems. "Honestly, you just look like a very well dressed, handsome fellow with a certain something to your presence. Ahhhhm..." another frown.

"I suppose it falls upon me to ask whether I am, in fact, durable or not? Is there actually a danger of myself being hurt?"

Lucifer has posed:
"Well, from a physical stand point I have seen you turn into absolute goo and then make yourself right again. You've got the genetic thing down to a science - no pun intended - and it seems like you can withstand just about anything..." Lucifer offers this much. "Which is why I think most of these will be fine. I have all the stuff to put together a vision quest...where you can likely seek the door that's locked and attempt to get it open. We can always go from there..."

Sinister has posed:
"I see," Sinister ponders, looking objectively at the literature in front of him. Altered states of consciousness -- did he dabble with any of that at Oxford? It's possible he did, but nothing is certain. And as observations on his peculiar anatomy go, he holds up one of his hands to stare at the palm, as if the focus alone might achieve something.

The dim glow attempts to start at the ruby yet /again/ as he does so. He absently shakes his head, the bewilderment giving way though, to a kind of determined air. Stubborness is unshakeable, it appears. "I mmust admit to being extremely vexed that I apparently have quite the talents, but have no idea how to access them. I feel as if I am fumbling blind in the dark, looking for a lantern."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer eyes that ruby for a moment. Every time it glows it seems Sinister gets a moment of clarity and then the ruby dims once again. Coming around the table, he kneels at Sinister's feet and does something likely very unexpected because it wasn't even discussed. A hand comes and a thumb is placed over that ruby, is there nerves attached to it? Lucifer doesn't know, but as his thumb is placed there he allows a bit of heat to encompass the jewel that isn't really a jewel but knowing it can take just about anything, Lucifer isn't worried about it suddenly exploding into shattered glass or something.

What comes next is a series of whispered words, they seem to sound echoed from everywhere but also nowhere. An ancient tongue that only Lucifer (and likely the Angels) know. Words of empowerment and door unlocking and hinge breaking. Words of love and utter devotion that make no sense in the tongue he uses, but they are expressed none the less. It might do a thing. It might not. But at this point Lucifer is willing to try anything at least once.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister watches, no fear in his regard at all, as the kneeling takes place. "What are you...?" just that much before the red diamond gets a solid pressing at and ancient angelic tongue is being used in his presence. The language of Iaweh's cosmos, has a great deal of potency, really. There's probably a reason it incants magic so very well, eh? The power of creation -- And god said, let there be light and there was light and it was good.

The power of words is a potent thing. Then again, so is the peculiar nature of a crystal that has the ability to not only withstand, but channel and control extreme solar power in the form of concussive beams. And to create a lens through which a powerful mind can make itself either a ballistic weapon or a scalpel. But the thing about lenses is that they do work both ways; inward and outward.

And if nature abhors a vaccuum, what does supernature abhor? A similar vaccuum, one wonders?

"AUGH!" one exclamation and both the devil and his Sin are on a promontory infront of a great manse in the vein of the Baskervilles. Lucifer's seen this place at least once before; the mind fort of Nathaniel Essex, where everything might be stored, catalogued, researched and analyzed. Two centuries of memories.

And worrisomely, all the lights are out.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer doesn't feel any pain as he's sucked into the mind palace of one Nathaniel Essex, aka Mister Sinister. He takes a moment to review his surroundings, hearing the crashing of the sea below the point that sticks out over the raging waters below. Then he takes in the mansion before him, that whole Baskerville ala Sherlock Holmes, moorsland covered in mist and surrounded by the grey of skies filled with clouds. Only there's no hound after him here, and instead he's of a mind to investigate what's going on here. Especially since the mind palace of Essex is currently all lights out.

Might be up to him to turn the lights on. Find out why they're out to begin with.

So, Lucifer Morningstar, the Lightbringer, moves to approach the mansion, all the way to the door where he will first check to see if he can simply walk in. Otherwise, he might just bang the door knocker three times and see what comes of it.

Sinister has posed:
The door is a big iron-bound thing of salted and seasoned oak; the kind of thing that upon a time would have been able to resist a battering ram, or even cannon fire. In normal circumstances, it would likely be a thing that requires the knocker to be thrice rapped and then permission to enter granted. Under /normal/ circumstances all the torches and gas lamps would be on!

The door stands very slightly ajar and inside, is a candle flame. A single one in the corridor of the stately home interior. Outside? Castle-esque. Inside? Far more ordinary for the time period in which he grew up. There's nice carpets a telephone, even! Dark wood panelling, heavy velvet drapes of dark blue, to exclude the light when it isn't required. A drawing room, a library, a solarium at the back, no doubt one of these doors leads to the scullery and the double staircase leads to chambers above. Very victorian!

But there's only a single candle lit in here with a glass cover, to shed a little light on what is otherwise gloomy. Like the equivalent of very faint 'on hold' muzak, only within the mind. A faint smell of pipe smoke lingers, a little antiseptic and a whiff of formaldehyde and over that the fresh smell of sweet peas.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer imagines the door making one of those ominous squeaks as it's slowly opened enough for his frame to fit through so he can assess his surroundings. The single candle flame looked at for a moment before he glances around again. Trying to let his eyes adapt to the lack light of the room, and he would try to use a trick or two but...something about the darkness makes him want to try and figure it out without any special handling.

At least for now.

The trail of formaldehyde and antiseptic is what guides him, ignoring the scent of sweet peas for the moment. He steps carefully, keeping hands out here and there to make sure he won't run into any furniture or anything. "Hello? Nathaniel? Anyone?" Of course at this point he almost wonders if he's going to find the mental Nathaniel passed out somewhere.

Sinister has posed:
Not quite. The scent leads to the cellar, wherein there's a beautifully outfitted research lab that's obvious and a little side door just to the side of the lab area, that looks almost like a broom closet by comparison to the well kitted out and clean laboratory itself.

It is from there, that the scent of formaldehyde and antiseptic is clearest. The door is little more than a lock with an old fashioned wrought iron key. Interestingly, there's a hook beside the door on THIS side where the key is hanging. The keyhole does not go all the way through -- so there's no way out from inside, without being released from the out.

It has a similarly dim light shining beneath the lintel, like the dull glow of a phosphorescent fungus.

Lucifer has posed:
Now. Lucifer is not the smartest when it comes to things of a scientific nature. However, he has been studying. So he knows the scents are what they are, and he also knows that formaldehyde is used as both a sterilizing agent and also an antibacterial agent. Antiseptics are used for sterilation as well. So it makes sense that these scents are coming from what seems to be the lab within the mind of Essex. This does not give clues, except that for them to be so strong, they had to be recently used. These things fade in scent over time, right?

The side door that he spies, with the light coming through, is what draws him next. "All the lights are out and yet there appears to be someone home..." He offers to himself, reaching for the key and unlocks the door, but then he re-hangs the key. Opening the door, he begins to walk into the room and tries to see if he can keep the door from shutting all the way while he also tries to follow the dull light to try and find the source. "Is anyone in here? Hello? Essex?"

Sinister has posed:
Inside this unassuming little room, the scents are oddly faded, though they're exceptionally strong outside. The linger here, is a very old one -- this is also a lab, but an old, old fashioned one and with a small cotbed up against a wall with a pillow and blanket. The equipment in here is archaic and there is a cadaver table set up that looks as if it was a taxidermist's wet dream and nightmare at the same time. Bits and pieces of a variety of animals are attached in various places... to a human being. A cadaver, obviously and it is from that that the scent of old formaldehyde comes. Stacks of notes are both neat in piles and scattered whilly nilly as if it all depended on the mood of the individual who wrote them, whether he was clinical, or manic.

sitting on the cot though, is Doctor Nathaniel Essex, but as Lucifer's never seen him before.

Dishevelled, dark of eye, bestubbled as if shaving was a luxury some other fellow got to have; it is not a cultured and groomed affair. His hands are shaking very slightly where they sit in his lap and he appears gaunt. Drawn. Unhealthily so. He looks up with those grey eyes of his. "Hello?" He reaches for the only light source, which really does appear to be flourescent mold and fungus in a belljar, to lift it up and look. "I'm afraid you catch me at a rather bad time, I'm afraid."

Lucifer has posed:
Being used to the scent of sulfur and brimstone, Lucifer does not seem offended or put off by the lingering, faded scent of formaldehyde. He takes account of the room, of the animal pieces attached to a body lying on the cadaver bed and then turns to see Nathaniel sitting there on the cot. Not looking in any way like he's ever seen him before. This is not his doctor. This is likely what his doctor would be if he failed at any time in his life.

Or so such an assumption is made.

"So it would seem..." Lucifer offers as he steps closer and then moves to kneel at the doctor's side. "This is an interesting room, Doctor Essex." A pause before he lets blue eyes set upon those grey ones. "Do you know who I am?"

Sinister has posed:
"I think so. You're my one truest love. I keep all those things in here," Essex taps his heart, his temple and then points around the small lab with a pirrhouette of finger. "There's moments of lucidity, like now. There's not a whole lot of other in here at the moment, it's rather peaceful. Quiet. I suppose once, I might have liked the quiet life." He smiles wanly, then glances around, as if something is going to pop up and make itself understood to be there, at any moment.

"I don't suppose you know where everyone is, do you? There was a goddawful ruckus a few hours ago, lots of shouting and then it went very quiet. I wasn't expecting any visitors, certainly not you."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer shakes his head a little. "I do not know where everyone is. When I came here... the lights were all out. Save for a single candle. There was a scent of formaldehyde and antiseptic which led me here. Though also...lingering pipe smoke and sweet peas." Lucifer explains this much more. "I believe...I am within your mind. Outside...you are a shell. You don't really remember anything beyond...1860 I believe was the year you spoke. There's flutterings of things that you can recall but you cannot hold onto them. I've been...trying to help. In the only way that I can. I tried...well..." He pauses.

He then further explains about the constant ebb and wane of the ruby in the forehead glowing. So he figured the ruby was the key. Pressed against it, spoke ancient words, wound up here. "It was that or begin a mind boggling amount of attempts at mystical stuff that may or may not have also worked... or still led us to this point. And you, look a mess. If I may be so bold. What ruckus? Do you remember any detail?"

Sinister has posed:
Listening intently, the doctor hangs on each word, only to end up with his right index pressed against his lips in thought, a ferocious frown of concentration doing his gaunt aspect no favours. "I would... I would assume I was assaulted somehow, but... but I don't rightly know how. I'm not let out much you see. A bit of an embarassment, most of the time, I wager." He waves his other hand at scattered notes by the cot, which seem to have waxing and waning musings of trivial things, like pretty butterflies and 'How shall I compare thee to a summer breeze?' along with lithographs of the children he has loved and he has lost. There are plenty there of Lucifer himself, wearing various facial expressions. "The inkwell runs dry occasionally," he informs in a faint, distracted sort of mutter. He stands then, absently dropping a hand to Lucifer's head to ruffle the hair as eh moves toward the more organized stacks of paper.

Several are thumbed through, flipped upside down and set aside, others reached for. Here, he is methodical, not scattered and a paper is brought forth, squinted at and a desk drawer from his much stained writing desk pulled open. "They were mined in the mountains of the moon, in the borders of Ethiopia and Uganda..." he pulls out a rough red quartz. "I posited that they are an energy conduit and that certain thicknesses and refractions could amplify, focus or negate energy sources. I... suppose I must have worked out more of the details if I now sport one." He looks from the crystal to Lucifer, then proffers it with a nod.

"I can only imagine one that was stuck in my head soaking up psychic energies may or may not be quite useful. At least as a conductor of some kind."

Lucifer has posed:
"Are you saying that the ruby is like a lightbulb? Occasionally it needs to be..." Lucifer reaches for the crystal that's offered to him. "Changed? Updated? Cause you've been wearing the ruby in your head for quite some time..." He looks the ruby over a bit and then back to Sinister. "Also, if I'm understanding correctly, there are many Yous in this place...or there were..until they all poofed after something went wrong. And you're kept locked away in here for all your days? ...That doesn't seem rightly fair...but given this and you are pretty much the Nathaniel I imagine would have been in the 1860s, that explains why those are the only memories he has."

There's a pause. A thought.

"...So do you know how to fix it?"

Sinister has posed:
"I uh... well, I..." Much like Ludo in Labyrinth, there's a whole lot of facial expressions, a mouth and eyes wide, then a sagging. "Not at this precise moment? Short answer, no. I was in here. I haven't been out -there- in a while." He nods to the door. "As to the quartz... it's... it's a tool. But like something that can carry a polar charge, it resonates with whatever energy is focused through it, I believe. A universal prism, of a kind. Mathematically perfect and therefore infinitely useful?" He pauses, winces "That's probably not helping, is it?"

Lucifer has posed:
"I'm not really adept at this whole science stuff... though I'm trying - slowly - to learn so I can be more...useful." Lucifer says this and then looks at the crystal a moment more. "But if there's nothing to absorb... how does this help? There's no one here....how do we get them back here..." He's likely out of order with what needs to be done and not knowing how it all works isn't helping him any. "...What would happen if I let you out of this room for a bit. To perhaps... help me look over other notes that...newer yous? Would have left somewhere?"

Sinister has posed:
"I can't imagine. I suppose I understand why I lock myself up in here, but as I appear to be the only one around, I imagine that I am still myself, irregardless. I can at least read my own shorthand!" Sinister smiles at this, a little cheesily and runs his hands through his dishevelled shoulderlength hair. There's a slight wave in it, thanks to lack of care and attention and it's peppered with grey.

Lucifer has posed:
"Alright then. This is where we start. I kept the door from closing so we should be able to exit the room..." Lucifer says this much and then looks over the notes here and then looks towards the door that leads out. "Now, again, when you say ruckus... what did it sound like? Things being thrown around? People being sucked away?" He heads for the door then and out of the ancient lab and into the newer one.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister follows dutifully, all the while looking around and up, over at, down to -- essentially aquainting himself with his surroundings. "Fascinating. I appear to borrow from a measure of Romance when I dwell within my own head," he strides to the lab equipment and looks at a computer with utter bafflement. "I assume this is a device of some kind?" He looks back and over, looks at the object and apparently dismisses it as irrelevant for the time being. Instead, he moves over to the white cabinets that presumably house ordinary lab equipment and perhaps specimens. They are flung open, revealing new looking jars containing all kinds of body parts, floating in bubbling solution of a blue hue.

"I had the good fortune at one point of witnessing a rare tornado off the coast of Spain once. I imagine compared to the colonies, it was miniscule by comparison. I also had the opportunity to witness a seismic event on Corsica one time, likely from the rumblings of mount Etna nearby. If I were to attempt to describe such a sound, it was like a combination of the howl of a twister and the rumbles of the earth itself shifting."

Lucifer has posed:
"That is a computer. It's a newer technology. You can store mass amounts of files and all sorts of data collection in the same area. Without having to have massive amounts of paper either in stacks or strewn about." Lucifer explains that, even though Sinister has sort of ignored it for the time being. At the sight of more body parts in jars, the man just tilts his head. "Interesting. Always experimenting even in the mind. Course, you are a man of many talents and can multitask quite well." Lucifer offers of his observations. When the telling of the ruckus takes place he tries to think of anything that happened to Sinister lately...perhaps something outwards affecting inwards? He isn't sure. "Notes. I can try to see if I can find anything in the computer..."

Sinister has posed:
"If you would, the confounded contraption makes no sense to the likes of me," Sinister replies, without looking over his shoulder. He is looking at the various jars, peering closer to read fine print at the bottom. Several are selected, then placed back with a shake of his head, until he finds one of interest. It is an entire human skull with a third eye hole in the center of the forehead. A seal has been placed over that socket that looks like finely stretched opaque membrane and he lifts it, bringing it over to the counter where the computer sits.

"I have no idea why these are here, but apparently I collected these over the years. My shorthand indicates potential useages. This is, according to the lexicon..." he traces it with a fingertip that looks ragged around the edges. Gnawed on. "...the skull of a mesoamerican shaman who was both precognitive and postcognitive. If I can figure out how to use it, we might have a better inclination as to what occurred here."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer uses the computer, but he also listens and watches as this Essex looks over jars until finding something that might prove useful. So he gets into the database - cause he's at least paid attention to how to do such - and searches for the terms that Sinister has used. Mesoamerican. Shaman. Crystal. Ruby. Trying to find any and all files that might just pieces together clues as to what happened and how to finally fix it.

Sinister has posed:
Well, the mesoamerican Shaman brings up a small 'back of the book' synopsis of Sinister's encounter with the incan shaman and his ultimate demise, which lead the scientist to believe that some of the pre-post cognition was potential, but not actuated. Otherwise, of course, he'd have seen the machete coming. It also details some research using amplification gestahlt technology that could dbe plugged into a helmet to record spikes in neurological activity. Apparently, there's an eyeball behind that membrane, intact and preserved.

Meanwhile, Sinister has found a small device on a desk that looks like a personal voice recorder black box. He appears to be turning it over in his palm, examining the buttons. "Might this be helpful?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer follows the files, but while the research is interesting. It doesn't help him in any way. He'll have to remember the third eyeball bit though. When Sinister brinfs over that personal voice recorder, Lucifer smiles. "Yes. Actually. This is a recording device...but..." He rewinds it a bit and then looks at it a moment. "You can play back what you've recorded." And with that, he hits the play button.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's most droll tones come through the device as the play is hit. "...mostly completed. I shall take a measure of the locations of the known devices in the Savage lands when I return there next." A click of it pausing "There appears to be an anomaly in the astral plane, originating in the vicinity of the Great Glacier..."

The dishevelled Sinister frowns and shakes his head. "This doesn't sound familiar at all..."

Then though, there is a zzzzzzzzzzzzzing kind of noise, as of a large scrape of metal against metal, a pause where sound is sucked in and a pregnant pause. "The defenses have been triggered. I am going to attempt to wake up. This is a..." "...checkmate." -- That is sinister's voice, but a different inflection to the one dictating and it is whispered with a measure of glee. Then it records what the dishevelled one described with the windsound like a typhoon of psychic screams.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer blinks. Then blinks again. "Defenses triggered...you were within your mind when it happened..." Then the word 'Checkmate' made by a Sinister, but surely not Lucifer's Sinister. "Astral plane. Well. I guess I know where I'm going next. First MojoWorld, and now this... and hopefully after, we'll go take care of things in the Savage Lands and then help ourselves to a little bit of nice and quiet." He looks to Sinister then. "I'm keeping you out of that room for now. I hope you decide to stay out for the time being, since you've heard all this...maybe you can help..." He gestures and then sighs. "For now. I suppose I should leave...if...I can figure out how..."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's expression softens and looks a little maudlin for want of a better word. "That, my dear, is the easy part." It's a kataa kind of gesture a simple open palmed shove from the dishevelled psychic echo and the Archangel is psychically ejected from the headspace of one Nathaniel Essex.

He's there. Kneeling where he was at prior, but now with a good inclination of who needs to pay.

And meanwhile, in Crazytown, we have an eighteenth century scientist with no comprehension of modern contraptions (yet) piloting one of the more powerful mutants of the Western Hemisphere! What could POSSIBLY go wrong?