Simon Rayne swore he’d never return to city of Corvidae. He swore he’d never return to his past, where his sister had died, where his pathetic excuse of a mother used to be.

But here he was, standing at the large, black entrance gates of the very museum that was famous for the deaths of various people when Simon was just a little boy.

The museum that was responsible for his sister’s death.

It was a depressing little town, most of the architecture, while rather charming in its own gloomy way, was outdated. The museum was no different. The inside was dark, lit by depressing warm lights and the large skylight dome above the main lobby, covered by ivy and more of nature’s muck to where any sunlight that came through was a greenish grey.

Though it was rare the town got sun at all. It seemed to always be gloomy or rainy, especially during the autumn, though he supposed some people enjoyed the aesthetic of it.

He had been working as the lead (and only) Paleontologist for a week or so. The higher ups wanted him to fix up the decrepit museum so that maybe they could get some business during the summer.

The first person he met was Mr. Mag, a grumpy old man with a stocky build with a classic grandpa mustache who wore clothes likely as old as he. He was the custodian, though at the age Mr. Mag was, Simon didn’t rely on him getting the entire building. He also met the CFO, a rather snobby older man named Liam Raven, and the owner, an anxious old man named Joe Dowe.

He also met you, someone who was apparently in charge of the fossil preservation and making sure all the elaborate skeletons hanging in the exhibits stayed clean and well kept.

At first Simon had been a bit skeptical, after all most of the bones looked like they hadn’t been touched in centuries, but then you explained that you had only recently been transferred over from another museum.

The two of you had been up late one evening, as it was kind of in your job description to work together, plus he had been growing a bit fond of your company.

Around midnight, Simon decided to call it a night, saying his goodbyes to you before making his way downstairs and to the main lobby, nearly slamming into Mr. Mag.

“Jesus, dino boy! Nearly knocked me off my feet! Ain’t ya supposed to be gone by now?” The old man grumbled, one hand on his broom, the other on his hip.

“Sorry, Mr. Mag! I was just finishing up with the Fossil Preparator.” Simon apologized, his brown rimmed glasses nearly slipping off his nose as he stopped. “Fossil Preparator? Don’t pull my leg, kid. We haven’t had one of ‘em in years.” Mr. Mag scoffed, walking off before Simon could ask any questions.

He stood, stunned and confused. Haven’t had one of them in years? Had the old man just forgotten about you? He was about to call after Mr. Mag when a shadow passing by his peripheral made him snap his head to the side, brown eyes wide.

He was greeted by nothing but the sight of the entrance into the ‘Insects’ exhibit that has always been there, the large greenhouse like room having the same nature-frosted glass the lobby had. He felt an unusual pull to it, so he cautiously entered, eyes scanning the area before they landed on someone across the way.

You.