Ever wondered what a Solavellan romance could look like in the absolute classic 1999 film The Mummy? Well, I may have a treat for you.
Death is only the Beginning is a solavellan reimagining of the cult classic, with wise-cracking gunslinger Eleanor 'Nell' Lavellan leading the charge to the Black City with librarian/Evanurist Dr Solas Raine and his loveable lout brother, Felassan in tow.
Inspector Inez Drift has been blown off by a contact again for what feels like the hundredth time this month, so decides to treat herself to another drink before heading home. That might have been the best or worse decision she made this month.
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Welcome to the midnight club, sellers of the finest liquors and providers of the best entertainment any man or woman could ask for.
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Read below or on ao3
Drift had spent the last hour in this dim bar watching the barkeep bickering or flirt (she wasn't really sure) with a man who was both looked to be fifteen years his senior and married if the ring around his finger was any hint. Not that the older man seemed to care too much, though if he was flushed red from the barkeep's comments or his booze was still up for debate.
Drift took a swig of her own drink and sighed. The bar was hazy from cigarettes and cigars, the lighting was moody from the lack of windows and dim lights dotted about and it was clear this contact had blown her off as well. It was starting to get annoying, any lead she got on this case seemed to either suddenly have second thoughts about meeting her, disappear without a word to the wind or worse, turn up dead and full of lead in some alley. She hopes it was one of the former and not the latter though. The trail of bodies involved in this case were starting to scare off folk.
The ice rattled at the bottom of her almost empty drink as she set it down on the wooden table. She should really get going. It would not be great to get caught here if some bull decided to bust the place, considering she was currently on the police's dime.
On the other hand…
Local beat officer Apo Kuna was sitting in a booth on the other side of the room, still in her navy uniform skirt, doing her best impression of a sodden rat who didn't want to be here. The redhead across the table from her seemed to be unafflicted by the officer's attempts to bring down the mood, instead chattering away as she sipped what seemed to be an overly sweet abomination of a cocktail.
And well, if Apo Kuna reports Drift then she is all for dragging her down too. A mutually assured firing if you will.
Standing from her seat, she walked over to the bar where the two men’s bickering had taken a turn for either better or worse depending on how the next minutes went. The older man sat at the bar looked as boiled as an owl, hunched over the bar, while the brunette bar keep was inches from his face hissing something to him in a tone that did not seem the friendliest. Whether he was going to kiss or slap the man was anyone's guess.
The other barkeep behind the bar smiled at her when he spotted her approach, looking about as comfortable standing next to that situation as a cow in Times Square. He was tall in that lanky way young men are, ashy brown hair greased back as was the fashion. He was wearing simpler clothes than the other barkeep, just a shirt, suspenders and an apron wrapped round his waist, a white cloth pocking out the front pock, though he wore a gold signet ring on one finger.
“Evening ma’am, some fool stood you up?” he asked, straightening up slightly. He spoke with a slight accent, eastern european, maybe. Plenty had moved across the sea after the great war.
Drift groaned, it wouldn’t be bad if it was the first time, but it was like the sixth or seventh time this month alone. “Seems like it. More fool of me for hoping I guess.”
The barkeep laughed in the polite way all service staff do as Drift fished out a dollar from her purse and set in on the bar. He picked it up and tucked it into his apron and started pouring her a glass, “Nah, they’re definitely the fool. You seem like a nice dame, definitely one that would be a mistake to pass on.”
The comment made her laugh, most men found her chosen job too much of an embarrassment to risk being seen out with her. That and well… she’d always found the dames much more interesting than the tom cats strutting the block. “Oh gosh, no. I’m here for business, not a date.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply… yeah… Well, they are still a fool, standing you up like that.” He stuttered, flushed red to his ears with embarrassment, “I’m sorry that happened to you, miss…?”
“Drift, and you are?”
“Jack Von Pyroscythe, though most just call me Pyro.” he responded. He glanced across the smoky room, distracted by movement on the small stage that sat in the corner of the room. Two men had appeared on it, one older with silvering brown hair and a neatly groomed moustache sat down at the piano, the other about half his age with slicked back blonde hair that glowed in the golden stage lights was joking with him as he plucked at the strings of his fiddle.
Pyro grinned at the sight and gestured to Drift to sit on one of the bar stools, “Eh, screw them now, they’re about to miss out on some of the best entertainment this side of town. You’ll love it, Shelby is a right doll!”
His excitement was infectious as she popped herself up onto one of the stools, her drink beside her. Pyro leaned on top of the bar next to her, eyes fixed on the stage. Turning back, she was just in time to watch the dark haired man count themselves into a bouncing, upbeat tune.
And luckily just in time to watch the prettiest girl she had ever seen bounce through the stage door up to the microphone. It was like the sunset personified had burst onto stage, the red,orange and yellows beads of her dress flapping round her like embers. And she had a face like an angel, button nosed and freckled, framed by a bob of ruby curls, pushed back by a glittering headband of crystals that caught the bar's lights. It was as if the whole room had collapsed onto this single spot.
“I used to be my mother’s baby…”
Drift was enraptured, she hung off every word of the singer, Shelby, Pyro had said her name was, voice. It was sweet and chirpy like a song bird by her apartment window was. In one of the interludes between singing she grabbed the blond lad's hips and spun them both in a circle, gaining a toothy grin from him and giggling herself. And if that laugh wasn’t music herself.
By the time she finished singing, leaving the two men to play some calmer instrumental pieces, the ice in Drift’s drink was melted and the liquor undrunk.
Yet she still felt her cheeks heat up as she spotted Shelby skipping across the floor towards her.
“Pyro!” she cheered as she reached the bar next to Drift, leaning so far across it she almost fell head first over the other side.
“Shelby! You were great!” he said, setting a drink that looked fruity and sweet and probably held no spirit at all on the bar next to them.
“Aww, thanks Py. You’re great too.”
Shelby grabbed the drink and took a sip, before setting it down again. As she does she turns to face Drift and almost jumps when she sees her.
“Oh, oops, you startled me!” she squeeked, “I’m Shelby, Shelby Shubble!”
The smile that girl gave her sent her heart fluttering, and maybe her stomach too. God she felt kinda sick, “Erm- I’m Inspector Inez Drift, but you can call me Drift if you want… or not its up to you… er.”
Damn, that was not smooth.
But it didn’t seem to matter to Shelby as she instantly lit up, “A detective? That sounds so cool! Do you solve mysteries? Murders!?-”
“Shelby-” Pyro looked more uneasy, eyes flickering to the rows of, quite illegal, bottles of liquor behind the bar. Maybe admitting to being a detective in a speakeasy wasn’t her smartest choice.
“I’m not gonna tell, don’t worry!” she panicked, she didn’t need to be banned from here, “I’m a private detective, I swear!”
Shelby gasped again, “See, Pyro, it's fine. She’s like one of those detectives from those stories!”
Pyro didn’t look fine but at least he looked a bit less panicked, “I don’t think you should base your perception off of the novels you read.”
Shelby pouted, it was kinda cute, the way her brow scrunched up in annoyance, “I know that, but let me have some whimsy! I’m sure she has some stories.”
Shelby turned to her expectantly, honey eyes gleaming expectantly.
“Uh, yeah I guess. They're not that exciting though. Mostly cheating spouses…” she glanced down the bar at the other barkeep and older man. A stout woman with fiery ginger curls had joined them and was attempting to lift the drunk man out his seat, all while the barkeep waved at him mockingly, a gleeful grin spread across his face.
“Oh, neither of their partners care.” Shelby said plainly.
“I wish one of them did, then Owen would stop abandoning me on shift.” Pyro bemoans, "Why does he get to doss about, but when I try and take a break I get yelled at?!”
Shelby just giggled. Pyro shot her a glare. Shelby stuck out her tongue.
“You mock my suffering Shelbs.”
“Noooo, you're just the least favourite.”
“My suffering, you see what I get put through inspector.”
Drift stifled a laugh, which in turn leaves Shelby grinning mischievously, “I can always get Apo if you want Pyro, put in a report for mistreatment.”
“God no, I still haven’t found Truffle, she’ll kill me for real if she finds out I lost that cat.” Pyro begged. “Don’t you have a ride to catch anyway? I thought you were going out this evening?”
Shelby shot up instantly “oops!”
“God, girl, get going, he won’t wait forever!”
“He will for me, he likes me.”
“He won’t if you miss the show.”
Shelby’s nose scrunches again. “Meanie.” She turned to Drift, “Are you free next Thursday evening?”
“What.” Drift replied eloquently.
“I run a book club on Thursdays here before it opens, you should come. I’d love to hear more about your detective adventures! Even if it is gossip.” Shelby beams, doing her best puppy dog impression.
“Uh, yeah sure, I’d love to.” She might need to reschedule a meetup, but it would be worth it
“Great! Bye Pyro, bye Owen!” and with that she is off like a shot, Pyro waved as she left, Owen - the other barkeep- waved absently as he still watched the ginger dame and the other man bicker as the lady dragged them both out the door.
Drift watched her weave across the bar until she almost bumped into an ivory haired man exiting a staff door. He was young, draped in gold chains and wrapped in a luxurious fur coat. He smiled at Shelby as he handed her her coat before booping her on the nose as he jokingly scolded her. He let her loop her arm through his, sending something hot into Drift’s gut.
But worse of all Drift realised she recognised him.
It was Scott Goldsmith, and he controlled almost every street down town.
Feel free not 2 answer if its spoilering !!!! but in prowl's notes it says "Reese is learning personal space; today he stood far too close to me and I had to set him straight." Can i ask who reese is? ( •. •)❔️
Not a spoiler, Reese, fully Reese Allen, is his one and only coworker (because he made up the detective agency of a total of 2 people) Red Alert
If this is the right acc for the 1920 stiry, can I ask how it is to write it? Do you research a lot? Just curious
Yes! You've found me!! The co-author!!!
Writing for 'Do engines get rewarded for their steam?' is very enjoyable for me because I've geared my degree towards a focus on American history. My partner and I try to make it as historically accurate as possible. Despite my knowledge and passion, research is *always* required in my field. Lately though, because a bunch of search engines have decided to use AI, it has made the research process a LOT harder because it muddles results with just straight up garbage that is COMEPLETELY inaccurate. I am always looking for new databases and sources for my research if anyone out there has any suggestions.
Thank you for finding me and thank you for your curiosity!! <3
