Another day, another scandal

I awoke this morning to discover I’d made the silliest of mistakes. I’d gifted a friend and fellow collector of First City coins with some of what I’d acquired, thinking it was “extra,” only to discover that I had not yet parted out my stake in the Marvellous. I don’t know how I made such an obvious and short-sighted error, but at least it was rather easily correctable. It did mean another rather odious visit to the Numismatrix, of course. I resumed my planning of an informal entry into the Museum of Mistakes shortly afterward and was well satisfied that I’d concocted a plan that would get me in, the coins acquired, and get me out again with no one the wiser.

To my utter astonishment and shame, I failed.

The details are a blur now. I know I took a spill off a slippery rooftop. There was something about a reflection in a glass, and snakes. Worse yet, I was sighted — oh the burning shame of it — and now I am on the “persons of interest” list the constabulary keeps.

Nightmares. Suspicion. Scandal. How I missed adding Wounds to that I’ll never know.

I’ve only ever felt worse than this once. The consequences of that incident drove me to Fallen London and the arms of the Bazaar. I have nowhere else to go now, except into laudanum’s embrace, perhaps. A night of sleep, or what passes for it. This will look better in the morning, I’m sure.

.-*-._.-*-._.-*-.

I’m scarcely faring any better in that silly archaeological dig in the Forgotten Quarter. I still don’t know how I ended up agreeing to that. One too many glasses of Greyfields 1882, no doubt. In any event, Dr. Orthos is hiring all my best assistants away from me and Virgina, that deviless with whom our dear  Commodore Creazil is so enamoured, has had her minions spying on me almost ceaselessly. I’d been treating this whole expedition in a rather light-hearted vein, but after my abysmal performance at the Museum of Mistakes I do believe I’m about to get serious, very serious, about digging for relics in the remnants of the Fourth Stolen City.

Ah well. The night beckons, and another round of chances and opportunities. Good night, Fallen London. Sleep tight. Don’t let the sorrow spiders bite.

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5 Comments

  1. NWeismuller said,

    July 3, 2010 at 10:34 pm

    My dear Madam:

    Do exercise caution when dealing with Virginia. Dr. Orthos is an unscrupulous cad who mars the name of Science with his vicious and unseemly tactics, but before Virginia he is the merest amateur of threat. Once again: do not underestimate Virginia. If she believes you have access to the secrets she seeks, she will not easily let this pass.

    Most sincerely and affectionately yours,
    N.

    • NWeismuller said,

      July 3, 2010 at 10:35 pm

      P.S. This said, the rewards both in knowledge and in concrete terms from the remnants of Karakorum past are not to be scoffed at.

    • cl0ckw0rks said,

      July 3, 2010 at 10:52 pm

      I will and do take your advice most deeply to heart of course, my dear sir. As Virginia (the irony of the name does not escape me) is a denizen of hell I cannot and will not make the mistake of attributing to her any redeeming qualities whatsoever. With your added cautions, I shall certainly redouble my efforts to keep her off-balance, or at least misdirected.

      Since I wrote that entry I have marshaled my resources and pushed back against Dr. Orthos’ efforts, and Virginia’s, to undermine my expedition. It felt good to have some small success, after my abysmal failures earlier, I must confess.

      Thank you for your advice. I’m.. flattered and honored that you care. It is a rare and precious quality, in this place.

      Delightedly yours–
      M

  2. NWeismuller said,

    July 3, 2010 at 10:59 pm

    I will, of course, be delighted to share notes with you as you gather results from an expedition. A fellow student of the secret history of the Cities makes for a rare stimulation. In my experience, knowledge is even sweeter than honey, and leaves the mind keener for its enjoyment. Although one cannot entirely discount honey.

    • cl0ckw0rks said,

      July 3, 2010 at 11:11 pm

      They rather dovetail nicely, do they not? Knowledge broadens imagination, and imagination broadens the fertile field in which honey dreams can take place.

      Without knowledge of Samarkand in ancient times, I could never have imagined it, nor dreamt of the caravans in slow procession along the Silk Road… nor the delights to be sampled in the caravansaries along the route, where lithe youths served wine in alabaster flasks, and nubile women from around the world danced to music that dazzled the senses…

      *ahem* Well. You get my point, I’m sure….


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