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A light smile only remained upon Father Clerc’s as Mary explained her predicament in the professional manner that he has only known of her. A chuckle of amusement came out as he heard her return his greeting with a foreign language that he hardly understood. He cocked his head to the side after hearing that she was heading to the very place that he had been invited to for the evening. The father attempted to understand why the Almack’s would need this heathen until he remembered her training.

He chuckled slightly upon hearing her little excuse for needing an escort, his hand reaching inside of his suit to bring out the flask he carried, sipping from it. ”I am doing well enough, just finished getting lamb for the stew I plan on cooking.” Jacques answered, his normal smile reappearing as he straightened himself. Putting his hands behind his back once more, he proceeded to answer Mary’s original question, ”I believe an escort would be wasted upon you, considering your… expertise,” he began before looking into the air. The father’s eyes then returned to the young woman on horseback.

”However, I will guide you through this market. Perhaps we shall begin moving along? We shan't keep your duties waiting.” Jacques insisted, knowing full well that time is a precious thing even to heathens. He turned away from Mary for a brief moment, his smile faltering and fading into a frown before he regained the strength to smile at the heathen once more.

The Frenchman turned to face the direction the horse was, his normal smile bright on his face for the time being. ”Lead the way, sister.” he insisted once more, motioning forward with a light wave of the hand.

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“Ahhhh~” Mosi let out a quiet pleased sound as she stretched her arms suddenly. This was a rather nice relaxing and quite refreshing walk. She really needed it after the night and awakening she had. Gosh just thinking about it made shivers run down her spine. The blasted burns…! She didn’t fear or hate fire, she feared what fire did to one’s flesh! She also hated be present at roasting animals. It made her think of what could be happening with her own body so she preferred to avoid it if she has the choice.

‘I guess it’s time to head back home now… Clarice will make such a noise about this invitation and how I should dress and act there...’ She though finally and did a turn on her heel as she started walking back from the direction she came from. She didn’t even pay any attention to how people were avoid walking near her or how young women pointed fingers at her, whispered about her with gaggles. What those people thought did not concern her, she knew who she was and what she was. She didn’t owe explanation to anyone nor did she feel bad about being herself. She then vaguely wondered if any of these people had ever tried to live in the real world out there where these… strange bizarre roles and rules they’ve made up for the society held no meaning.

Still her rather relaxed and unconcerned expression continued as she walked until she heard a man’s voice greeting her. She looked at the source of the rather polite voice only to see a young well dressed man.” Well met...sir.” She replied almost on autopilot before she realized it and at least added a honorific. She was frankly not used to people addressing her, especially as politely as he did. She still was smiling rather relaxed from her nice stroll.

“Excuse me, but can I help you with something?” She asked as she studied the man a little bit more, noting the scar on his face, but not really reacting to it. In fact it actually suited him quite well. It gave him a man of action appearance and she confirmed so when she locked eyes with him for a moment. She liked his eyes and in fact Mosi actually found him quite attractive, more so that the other man with him. They looked somewhat similar so they were probably siblings.” It’s just that it’s quite unusual for someone to take the time to talk to me around this area.” She explained with a smile.

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Fyror noted that the woman before him had a nice smile and a relaxed demeanor. She seemed a bit flustered by him talking to her, leading him to believe she either was uncomfortable with him specifically or she was unaccustomed to a man speaking to her. Nonetheless, she continued to smile, and he gladly returned it with a kind smile of his own.

His brows drew together slightly at her question, unintentionally making his features look harsher. “Do I need a reason to treat a lady with respect?” he replied as more of a statement than a question.

When the woman seemed to study his features, he felt more self-conscious than ever. Surprisingly though, she did not seem detracted by his scar and messed up eye. He cannot remember the last time a woman, particularly an attractive one, took a good look at him. He fought the desire to bashfully look away as she studied him and instead maintained eye contact with her.

It felt like a long time before she spoke again when in actuality it had been but a few moments. The corners of his lips pulled down in a slight frown at her statement. He was truthfully saddened that she was so frequently ignored by people. “That is unfortunate. However, I am not from around this area,” he stated. “Many of the people around here seem to think that one’s outward appearance is a true representation of that individual’s nature, but I have found that to be often times false. I suppose all we can really do is stay true to who we are and prove them wrong.”

Gerard went over to his room adjacent the stables where he would spend some of his nights there. He had gotten used to being alone all the time that he would rather prefer the company of his horses than sharing room with the servants. The smell didn't bother him much as it did with the presence of people who are mostly strangers to him. He placed his coat back on the rack and rolled up his sleeves, as he gone over the stables to attend to the horses.

He does so routinely, from fetching buckets of fresh water to drink, to cleaning their respective pens. He also made sure not to forget to prepare the carriage for Almack's this evening being the personal coach driver for the family. Part of his job would sometimes let him act as a sort of escort and protector whenever they leave for town, which he does so with great diligence. At all times he never leaves without his trusty blade by his side, the old butter knife had saved him countless of times since he first earned it during the last year of his training in Ireland, and as much as the number of lives felled by it's steel.

As he finished attending to the last of the horses, Milli's words rang to him once again, albeit melancholic yet full of sincerity. He couldn't help but smile, his thoughts wandered, then came realizations, which turned his tender smile into gloom. He wonders if Milli will still think the same if she ever knew the truth about him. The truth which he so desperately keeps away from her knowing, in fear of losing her trust and most of all, her friendship that had meant so much to him already. "If only she knew."

Shortly reminiscing his previous life has sent him shivers, the rush of adrenaline when he struck blade to flesh, his foes screaming in agony as the the smell of gunpowder and blood mixed together with the pacific breeze, a life so exhilarating that still became the source of his nightmares to this day, a part of him struggles to leave it all behind completely. How could he as it was the only life he knew back then, guilt never got to him until in the very end, where everything had finally came with a price.

As his eyes wandered up to Milli's draped chamber window, he thought whatever will become matters little if she ever knew about it. After all there is enough to prove that he was a monster who deserved to be hated. Though the only thing that matters now to Gerard is for her to be happy. If it means getting away from her stepmother and marrying a fine young gentleman of her liking, he only wishes it would be someone better, someone who will cherish her or bring her flowers everyday, more than he ever could. Milli deserves that much.

The day will drag on like each one before it, yet we have to wonder why. It seems no matter how much the times change, so much remains the same. The same desires, the same mistakes. Are we condemned to live and die in the same cycle for which each one before us did? Change the scene, change the faces, but the story is always the same. Everything always comes full circle, can we not break the cycle? We search for the answer but with our minds so focused on what is so far before us we forget to watch our flanks and see what is beside us. That is when it takes up and pulls us in, holding us hamsters on the spinner to keep moving without the ability to change the path.

Pull from you restraints, the walls and chains in your own mind. Do not be lead down the path anymore. Let yourself see what is around you, remember what is lurking behind you for it is dangerous. So far ahead, you cannot change what you see if you don't change what you do, what you say, how you feel. The time is coming, no, the time is here for you didn't see it coming. Rushing in from all sides what time you thought you had is over. Brace yourself for it will be swift and unforgiving. You are not as prepared as you would have wished, not as prepared as you need to be but are we ever? It is time to test yourself to see if you are worthy to continue to draw breath, to retain your soul. Only in the dark will you find the light.

The stars have made a change in the game without you knowing. I wish you the best for you will need each piece of luck you can scavenge. The world is beating for you right now, do not let it beat you down. What are you waiting for? Lord, what are they waiting for? The whole world is watching you as the fingers part and you slip through like sands through the hourglass. It never goes away as you fall, the light you desperately seek. Those horrors of your past, those dreams haunting you will seem like a pleasant dream by the time you reach the finish line. Your life flashes before you eyes. Blink and you will miss it. Time has slipped away, may the Soulless have mercy on your soul for you will sacrifice all you are by the end...



@Rivaan @mnkee - The morning fog is starting to fade away as the sun breaks and moves across the sky above. More and more people are filling into Hyde Park. The more that come the more you are left to hear their snickers and their talks. The more that are there the more brazen they become. "Such a fitting couple is it not? Two vile outcasts," is just one of the kinder voices you hear as people pass by yet there are too many now to be able to pick out who is saying what. It doesn't matter though, for as the time is reaching Lunch a scream pierces through Hyde Park and everything else goes quiet. Turn your heads to the north and you watch as it happens. A girl stumbles out from behind a tree as a single patch of darker fog rolls towards her. Fear filling her features and the scream rips again through the air, blood curdling this time as fog passes through her. True terror takes over her face before she freezes. Just a brief second before her body goes limp and the fog rises into the air and then down, speeding across the ground and heading deeper into the park.

@Sigil @Lauder - The marketplace is as to be expected at this time of the day, it is approaching lunch time so the servants are less but the general population is more. You both get the usual folk stopping by and saying good day to the both of you. Most will say such to Jacques but there are a few that stop for Mary alone. Out of the corner of your eye you both will see a small child stumbling out of an alleyway. He looks scared, breathless, a trickle of blood on his neck is trailing down and staining his dirty worn brown coat. He pulls it up closer, trying to conceal it but it matters not as he stumbles to the ground face first and the crowd parts, gasps and yelps coming from the people around. A dark shadow can be seen in the Alleyway before it rushes off deeper into the Alleyway and the shadow that was cast on the wall is gone.

@Sputnik @Pundii - While performing his duties, which include tending to the gardens that surround the manor, Gerard will see Nathan come to the house and walk to the front. The two, because of Millie, will know each other in passing - even if only by name. Millie speaks well enough to Nathan and has no issues with him. The thing is two things happen while the men are standing outside of the house - The first is a very distant scream, the scream from the woman in Hyde Park, yet at this distance it isn't clear just what type of scream it is and before either men can rush off... Well what is below is what unfolded behind closed doors and... you will see.



As much as Millicent would have loved to take as much time as possible to get readied to see Lord Ratherford she could not risk it. Far too much had she heard about his philandering, and other odious deeds. Rumor had it that he murdered his first wife but the details were not known to the ton in general, so gossip and whispers spread. Granted those in the ton did not care if he truly had, he was titled and handsome. Daughters were still pushed towards him and he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in London currently; he could have had his pick but it seemed that he had laid his sights on Millicent Wyndham for the time being. Many of the ton could not understand but some did; Millicent would inherit her fathers entire shipping trade if he was not discovered soon. She was the eldest heir and there long before her step mother was. The Wyndham fortune would be hers and it was well known that Lord Ratherford gambled, whored, and drank whatever funds he laid his hands on. Like father like son. More than one of the lowest class had been seen sporting tremendous injuries after a night spent in his company. Some had never been seen again.

Millicent made her way down the stairs, only to hear her sisters and mother talking up Ratherford and giggling at every surfaced deep compliment he bestowed on them. Lifting her chin, Millicent gathered her courage and stepped into the sun room where the four were seated and enjoying each others company. Her sister Emma sitting far to close to Ratherford for Millicents taste. Ratherford stood from his seat and smiled broadly towards Millicent as she entered the room. Her mother looking at the girl skeptically but smiling nonetheless.

"Good day to you Miss Wyndham," he said with a gracious bow. Millicent locked her jaw, giving the slightest curtsy and nod of her head in greeting; just enough to be acceptable but far less than what would have been expected of her towards a Peer.

"Lord Ratherford, what do we owe the," she began, searching for a word besides pleasure to say to him for it was no pleasure to have him in her home. "unarranged calling?" There it was, clear and present that he had forgone the simplest of etiquette to come without sending a calling card before hand to allow them time to prepare. Though time to prepare for Millicent would have been to leave for a morning walk just before his time of arrival had been scheduled.

"Millicent!" her mother scoffed at the impertinence.

"Quite alright Mrs. Wyndham, it was my mistake. Do forgive me Miss Wyndham, I had only recently arrived into London this day for this evenings event and could not dare wait to see if you would be attending this evening." His grin was charismatic but there was a flash of icy anger in his eyes as he held out his hand to hers. Resting her hand in his as lightly as possible, as if she was afraid she would be infected by him, he lead her over to a seat before situating himself next to her.

"Patience is a virture."

He laughed, heartily towards her. Millicent felt her fingers curling in her lap, how dare he laugh. "One I am afraid I do not possess. Unlike you Miss Wyndham, ever the proper lady you are despite the worlds assessment of your shortcomings."

"And what short comings do you speak of?" Her eyes flashing with distaste towards the man.

"Oh nothing that I would agree with Miss Wyndham. The ton does like to speak so. A woman of your breeding and standing seen in the company of texts thought better left to the masculine, and talents in the field that one with silken stockings should not worry herself with."

Millicent found her blood boiling as her teeth gnashed together behind her closed lips. "A woman should know all the daily needs of the world just as a man for how will she ever stand next to him if she is beneath him? Beneath such a boot is not somewhere I wish to dwell."

"Ha! Well said!" he clapped, cutting off Elizabeth's growing irritation with her step daughters attitude and words. "Mrs. Wyndham, may I have a moment alone with your lovely daughter?" he asked and Elizabeth was all to happy to oblige. Millicent pursed her lips in distaste, to leave her alone with any man, much less this one, was completely out of the question in her mind but as long as it got her sisters away from this loathsome creature, she would find some way to endure.

Her step mother and sisters made a hasty retreat and the doors to the sunroom closed, leaving the pair alone. Emma and Jane were hurried off but her step mother stayed at the door, waiting for just the right moment to open the door, listening carefully but she couldn't hear anything. It wasn't until she was nearly knocked over as Lord Ratherford came crashing through the door and spilling out on the floor before her that she heard anything.

"Dare you step through the doors to my home again and I will remove your head from your shoulders," Millicent hissed. Scrambling to his feet Lord Ratherford looked infuriated but did nothing right then other than straightening his cravat. The butler rushing over and handing him his overcoat.

"You will regret this!" he bellowed as he flung open the front door. "Mark my words Miss Wyndham, you will come to regret this day," he said before turning and finding himself staring eye to eye with Mr. Darcy.

"That time is come and passed. Now leave my residence this instant!"

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“Interesting. I like your eyes.” Was the first words that came of her mouth eventually. After the long study of the man’s face, eyes and expression. Now wasn’t he a curious type of person to find in this city. She smiled and pulled back a little, lessening her focus as she no longer was into a deadlock stare with him.” Theirs is truth to your words indeed.” She stated with a nod, but then smiled widely with a very relaxed expression.

“But there’s a mistake with it also.” She added, giving him a friendly smile.” There’s no need to prove them wrong.” She stated, placing a hand on her hip as she resumed eye contact with him, as if looking to see his reactions.” Why should we care how other see us when the only person we should answer to is ourselves? Everyone’s free to think whatever they want, it just doesn’t concern me if they do not approve. I know what and who I am, that’s enough.”

Suddenly Mosi’s attention was torn away by the scream of fear. Her head turned with almost an eagle like reaction speed as she locked her eyes on the source. Mosi’s eyes twitched as she found the source and the cause of it. “Cargast…” She hissed, her eyebrows narrowing as her forehead wrinkled, displaying a degree of hate, irritation and some hints of primal caution.

She had her axes… she could create a presence guard if given a time, but trying to do so might just attract it’s attention towards her, a thing she didn’t want to happen. There were people out there who were better suited to deal with this thing. Maybe if she had mastered the art to separate body and soul to fight them on equal footing, but she had not.” Leave it to those who can deal with it appropriately… Better no add additional victims. Follow me if you wish… I know the closest exit from the park.” She stated and started to cautiously move backwards and away from the ghostly apparition, ready to give it a mad dash in case of need.

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It would be a mistake to propose that Virginia thought of each servant as a member of the family. The carriage drivers were often replaced, due to some of the artifacts that the Crypts enjoyed to bring to their home. Whether it was from the shock of them, or the potential for theft, Virginia would never admit. She swore by her dear butler, Alfred, and often claimed that he was all the household needed. Still, he could not be expected to drive a carriage whilst teaching her brother the ways of the foil.

"Almack's," Virginia stated simply, fiddling once more with the opal ring on her hand. She regretted soon enough not bringing any journals to study during the carriage ride. The trip to Almack's was just over an hour--an hour of nothing more exciting than boredom. If only faster carriages had become a reality, Virginia thought to herself, staring idly at nothingness.

It was quite fortunate that it did not take Virginia all too long to lose herself in thought. Her mind was on her dear little brother. He was nearly ready to be trained, the age of testing beginning to dawn upon him. And why should not the young Viscount take up arms to defend himself? Alfred and Virginia could not shield him forever. He must learn to walk among the darkness upon his own merit. There was nothing quite to be feared, as long as one possessed wits and cleverness--two qualities Virginia was certain her brother was plentiful in.

Perhaps the Sister would have some words of wisdom as to the Viscount's training. Yet as her eye snapped into focus, hearing a distant scream, Virginia smiled softly to herself. "Stop the carriage," she commanded, her voice intense and yet not a shade above a whisper. The driver brought the carriage to a halt, aside the two other carriages that had come to the Wyndham Estate on that morning.

Milli, her dearest friend, she was well versed in the various tests and trainings. Perhaps she would have some advise to offer as to the Viscount's education. And from the carriages at the estate already, it was no doubt in Virginia's mind that some gentlemen were being forced upon Milli and her dear siblings at that moment. Furthermore, the thought of another partial hour in the silence of her thoughts did not seem all too pleasant on this morning.

"I shall be but a moment," Virginia instructed the driver, as he quickly hopped down, and opened the carriage door for the Lady Virginia Crypt. Even under the pale London skies, her skin was a deathly shade of white. Her mother had been the same. She nodded at her driver, spotting the two gentlemen at the doorstep. It was just as she expected.

She made her way forward to the home. It was time to perform an act of mercy for her dear friend.

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It was not an ideal turn of events, but Mary had obligations to uphold and the presence of the Anglican minister would assist in this endeavor. She held no illusions that the man wanted to escort her, but it was the broader point of etiquette. They were in public after all, and hopefully a religious man of the people would be honor bound to accept. The illusion of Propriety. Maybe there was an advantage to the concept amid all of the class-supporting nonsense. And here the people at Almack's were worried that she might do something improprietous. She was learning, after a fashion.

Such was the relationship between the two of these people of the cloth - strained but civil. Mostly. They each had things to offer the other, in the Grand Scheme of Things.

Sister Mary hitched Cassius to the provided rails just outside of the Market and took to the grounds on foot. She grabbed her bags from the horse's tack and set off into the rows of merchants and grocers, happily exchanging greetings with the smaller number of people that approached her. She looked about the stalls and wagons of the market, trying to find a more or less respectable merchant to purchase a decent but not ostentatious tea set, some quality tea of the season, and sundries associated. Now, these things were easy enough to locate, no question. They were in London, a place where such things were commonplace enough to competitively drive down the cost all around. But one thing she intended to locate continued to elude, which she intended to voice to her reluctant escort.

"Reverend Clerc, can you recommend a respected Cutler in this market? Or possibly a talented Armorer elsewhere in the..." Her voice ceased, face taking on a narrowed, more martial aspect. She glanced over to Jacques, noting that he saw the scene unfold, too. Even at this distance, she had an educated idea as to what was transpiring. "Ryne." It was a simple and flat statement.

The attitude and posture of Mary Hale became less of the Apostolic that was her daily life, and more of the Dame that was her calling. She deftly reversed the grip on her polearm and took off at a run, trailing the blade behind her. In her controlled dash, Mary released her massive bore Howdah gun from her side, opening her flowing white robe in the process. She ran, dead sprint, toward the crowd gathering and gasping at the boy on the ground. Part of her was enraged at the fact that no one was trying to help him; another part understanding their fear. What could they have done, aside from putting the boy out of his misery?

Mary slowed, noting that there was still a flow of blood from the child's wounds. He was still alive. Maybe there was even something she could do for him. The destruction of Soulless was within the main mandate of her Order, but so was protecting those who would be their victims. This boy still drew the breath of the living. The child was not beyond reach yet - there was a chance, however slim. "Reverend!" she called behind her, holding out her massive pistol to hand it over if required, "You take the Ryne! I've got the boy!"

She knelt next to the unresponsive form of the victim before her, quickly and carefully triaging. Quickly replacing her polearm (which she lay on the ground beside her) with her rosary, she pulled the boy onto her lap and offered emotional supplication. Her voice was powerful, yet colored by the humility of a genuine servant of God, advocating on behalf of the boy in her arms. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I beg you to spare this child!" She pressed the rosary to his forehead and wrapped her hand around the bite on his neck, stemming what flow of blood she could. She opened herself up to the divine gift of the Timyne, continuing to speak mostly to reinforce her own faith in its ability to heal and expunge. "Remove the corruption and preserve his Soul, if it be Your will, O Lord. Knit his flesh, that he may still serve you on Earth."

Her attention focused away from the spiritual and down to the boy. She whispered to ears that might or might not be able to hear her, "In the name of Christ, boy, open your eyes. You have people who need you. Fight. Please fight. Don't let the Soulless take you. Open your eyes. In nomine Patris, et Fillii et Spiritus Sancti. Open your eyes.

The rosary remained on his forehead, but the hand originally holding it crept back, underneath the folds of her robe. It curled around the hilt of one of her shortswords, in case she was wrong. Just in case.

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Fyror for the most part tuned out the ramblings of those around him, instead focusing his attention on the woman before him. He was honestly surprised by her bold compliment. He was not accustomed to being complimented by a woman, certainly not for his appearance of all things. A small genuine smile brightened his features as he continued to listen intently to what she had to say.

He nodded his head as she made a good point. He found that he greatly admired her confidence. She knew that others thought ill of her and yet she stayed true to herself and lived with no regrets. He would always do what he felt was right and honorable; however, in the process, he let people’s opinions pierce him, and he carried the weight of that pain with him. He often catches himself in this trap. “Wise words, miss,” he replied earnestly. “My name is Fyror Kildragon, by the way, and this is my younger brother—”

Fyror’s voice was abruptly cut off by a piercing scream. His hand flew instinctively to the hilt of his sword as he spun on his heels to face the direction that the sound had come from. His heart lurched in his chest when his eyes landed on the source: a girl with fear etched on her face as a dark fog consumed her. Cargast. He knew there was nothing that could be done for the girl when she crumpled to the ground. He flexed his hand where it now rested on the pommel of his sword, and his eyes scanned the now freaked out crowds. His heart was torn by the knowledge that he couldn’t protect these people from this threat. Cargast just weren’t his area of expertise.

As the fog began to fan out across Hyde Park, he was spurred into action. “Leon, keep your eyes on the west and south. I’ll take the north and east. There could be more Soulless nearby,” he ordered, instantaneously going into officer mode. “Lead the way, miss.”

Sighing as he stood outside the door, waiting for any answer to his knocks, Nathan's attention was soon grabbed by the sound of the scream. Out of instinct more than anything, his hand went toward his belt, where he would usually carry his sheathe, however he had left it in the carriage, and so his hand simply grasped at it for a moment before he settled it back down by his side. He kept staring in the direction of the park for a while, watching and waiting for anything to come from it again. As he glanced back to the door, he'd been about to head back to the carriage to go and check it out before the door flung open and he heard and saw Lord Ratherford speaking up. Clearing his throat, he steeled his gaze as he stared the man down once he turned, hearing Millicent behind him.

"How damaging it would be to your own rectitude, good sir, were it so openly made sensible of your aggression to a fine woman. Indeed, I would certainly find it marvelously insipid if I had stumbled upon a noble gent threatening a lady of course. However i'm sure i've just found nothing of the sort of pusillanimity, good day, sir." He'd end his comment with a curt, but almost warning smile as he took a step to the side to let Lord Ratherford pass. it wasn't the first time Nathan had addressed a suitor of Millicent or her sisters who was less than gentlemanly, and he certainly doubted it would be the last.

Turning his gaze into the house once Ratherford had moved off, Nathan gave his head a slight bow and smiled kindly over at her. "Miss Wyndham, how marvelous it always is to stop by and see things running as smoothly as always." He chuckled softly at his comment, watching her closely as he let his hands clasp behind his back.

As he moved his work to the gardens, Gerard caught sight of Milli's gentleman friend Mr. Darcy. Gerard have never personally met Mr. Darcy, as Gerard wasnt all too involved or familiar of Ms. Wyndham's affairs beyond the walls of the estate. But every so often Mr. Darcy would drop by the estate to visit Ms. Milli, whom Gerard presumed of their relative friendship.

The man wearing a peculiar set of garbs unlike Gerard has ever seen, stood waiting on the front door until the Irishman took it upon himself to make a greeting if anything out of courtesy. He walked over to the front of the estate, wiping the trickling sweat on his forehead when he heard a troubling scream. It came from Hyde Park, he thought to inspect as what was the commotion all about when the front door came bursting out a furious Lord Ratherford, one of the lady's suitors he believes. As to why he wasnt looking so blithe today after this visit he guessed Milli has finally had lost her patience with him. The man's expression slightly twitched as he exchanged words with Mr. Darcy.

As the displeased lord left, Mr. Darcy gave his greetings to Milli, Gerard's eyes still on the direction to Hyde Park. What ever was happening, he would want to look into it if something is truly amiss there. "If I may," Gerard tries to politely slip in their conversation "I believe there might be some trouble happening over there at the park." He finds himself brushing the hilt of his sword, as if by instinct. He keenly observers the park from where he stood, catching the sight of a familiar visitor of the estate yet again, her pale features stood out even in the ashen morning sky.

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The people greeted Father Clerc, and he greeted them back, primarily in his native language but switched to english soon after greetings. However, he could not help but notice the small amount of peasantry who greeted Sister Mary rather than the local priest and so it led him to the basic understanding that they were heathens. A small pension of anger rose in his gut, forcing himself to look away as to not let any expression of that anger to leak from Jacques’ normally calm exterior.

Jacques, walking and listening to Mary as she began her question, drew a breath as he was about to answer her before he stopped, confusion taking over his expression. ”Ryne?” The father echoed, before he noticed that she was not looking at him. Turning his head, the frenchman saw the boy, the crowd, and the shadow. Soon, Mary was off sprinting in front of him and he began following closely in a sprint himself.

Hearing Mary’s instruction, he grabbed the pistol she offered, using both hands to support it as he walked up to alley. Jacques turned to the crowd of bystanders and called upon them. ”Any man who has a weapon of any sort on him, follow me. We must track whatever has done this and dispose of it!” With that he turned back to the alley and took careful steps into it, keeping the massive pistol level in front of his.

Thoughts surged into his mind. Where the paupers he had seen earlier behind this? Could they be a part of the Soulless threat? He did not know, all he knew was that there was Ryne that he would need to dispose of, hopefully others would follow after him. Jacques did not look back to check, focusing only on the task at hand.

He could hear Mary and her incantation fading as delved deeper, he could feel his heart pounding within his chest as fear began to lurch up. Jacques stopped in the alley way before crouching down, running his hand across the ground momentarily. The father looked up and around to be sure there was not some monster in front of him. Upon finding there was none he utter a prayer in French, forming a barrier, wall to wall within the alley, so that no soulless may cross. Returning to his feet, Jacques drew a deep breath before stepping past his barrier and going further into the alley.

Lord Ratherford's eyes narrow as he looked towards Mr. Darcy, his lips thinned as his jaw clenched. Millicent stood within the door to her home and eyed the two, she had not been expecting Mr. Darcy to drop by but it was not uncommon, he seemed to make a habit of turning up at her threshold without word when it suited him. Even though they were friends in a manner of speaking she would normally give him a lesson in etiquette about showing up unannounced but this was not the time. Contradictory to the norms of society she was honestly elated that he had shown up when he did. It had given her at least one more person that she knew would back her in this instance for she knew within her own home she would have no such support.

"I would watch what threats you pass out," Lord Ratherford hissed as he pulled down on his coat to straighten it. Turning he looked over towards Millicent who lifted her chin in defiance to him and a slight smirk gracing her lips. "We will speak again," he said before turning and brushing passed Mr. Darcy as he made his way down the few steps and onto the path that led back to his carriage, passing Virginia as he went and not bothering to acknowledge her in the slightest. His eyes darting over towards Mr. Connolly as he climbed into his carriage before the door shut and his hackney whipped the horses to get them to move.

"Thank you Mr. Darcy," Millicent said as she gave a gentle nod in his direction and stepped through the frame of the open door, glancing around.

"You stupid stupid girl! How could you have gone and insulted a man of his title the way you just dared to, do you wish to be forever alone within the confines of this home? Who will take care of you if your father is not found? No one. Without position and husband, not one will dare do business with the Wyndham's and you will lose all the wealth your father has built up," Mrs. Wyndham berated Millicent. Millicent turned slightly to face her step mother as she continued to cause a scene on the front terrace of the manor. "A fighter, a bluestocking, a shelved spinster whom the only that call on her is a man with no want of a wife, whom calls among her friends a grotesque Crypt who would do well to have her brother betrothed to one of my daughters, and whom accepts gifts from servants." Turing Mrs. Wyndham stormed off in a huff, each of Millicents step sisters giving her a look of pity before following their mother to begin the hours of primping for the night before.

"Please forgive my family's lack of hospitality," Millicent said in a forced voice before looking over towards Gerard and nodding slightly with a quick bobble of her head. Her eyes lifting as she spotted people starting to pour out of the park and onto the streets proper. Taking a deep breath to steady her temper and nerves before speaking again. "It does appear that there is some form of uproar within Hyde Park, perhaps it would be pertinent if you Mr. Connolly, along with Mr. Darcy if he would so be inclined, should investigate the situation. I am afraid that if something is a foot that I cannot leave the Manor, it would mean leaving my family defenseless."

Looking over towards Virginia she took another breath before stepping down the stairs and onto the foot path. Stepping over to her best friend she stopped before her, giving her an apologetic look for the words her step mother had yelled out in front of the world. "She is just a bit vexed this morning, planning for this evening's event has her stretched far too thin I am afraid," Millicent said, making excuses for her step mother as she always did. "What brings you here to see me at this time my dear friend? Did I let slip from my mind a tea time we had planned? If so, do please forgive me. It has been hectic this morning as you have had the misfortune of witnessing."

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A soft glow came across the ground, stretching from wall to wall within the dreaded alleyway. With a small sigh, Jacques continued down the alley until his eyes spotted blood on the ground, fresh and leading to the boy. That was when he saw that nobody had decided to help their local priest with hunting this Ryne. Saving their own skins rather than looking to help the rest of the people within the city, typical human nature that disgusted the father. Scoffing lightly, Jacques returned his gaze to the blood to notice something soaked in the red substance. The father strolled over the object and crouched over it before finding that the object was silk.

He studied the silk for a few moments before picking it up, finding it as a good piece of evidence in this elaborate puzzle of where and who the Ryne was. Jacques looked up slightly, finding a small trail of blood droplets leading to the outskirts. Having failed to corner the creature, the father gave another scoff before turning and walking out of the alley to find the crowd was practically up in arms over the boy.

He moved himself next to Mary, a dull gaze coming to his face as he heard their cries of murder. ”You people are despicable,” Jacques began coldly, his eyes going from person to person, ”How dare each and every one you request the death of a poor child! A child! Sister Mary here, has abilities to heal others through the power of God, our God, the same merciful God in which we all follow! I know that should you kill this child, you will all be condemning yourselves to eternal damnation!” The father spat on the ground near the crowd as his eyes filled with a sudden rage.

Jacques’ eyes continued to flick from person to person, continuing to speak with passion, ”I pray each of thee to repent for such a demand as to kill a child! I know all of you are scared, but killing a child will solve nothing! The only thing to stop this will be to hunt the Ryne that has dared to attack a child!” The frenchman’s fists clenched, his tongue ran over his lips for a moment his eyes filled with a passionate anger.

For a moment his gaze shifted down to Sister Mary, a catholic woman in a protestant realm. He had defended her of all people, a heathen, yet upon looking at the child and knowing her abilities, he knew he would have to put aside that hate of heathens for the time being. Looking back at the crowd, he spoke once more, ”Trust in her and God if you do not wish to trust me. Do not wish the boy dead. Instead pray that his health improves.”

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It certainly was strange that a cargast would show up at this timing right now. Been a while since Jeanette last heard about one within the laws of London and this event certainly was not a harbinger of good tidings. Mosi just felt this appearance was just the beginning of a storm. Especially since she knew a huge event was in the plan for tonight. She’d better be in time there after this. Hopefully she’d be there and have enough time to inspect the wards that were there, but she also hoped they called other experts who can do it too just in case.

Granted soon enough they were at the closest exit from Hyde park just as Mosi stated earlier. From here they had a few possible solutions. Virginia passed through Jeanette’s mind, but the sheer distance that the other was at made it not a viable choice. There was Millicent nearby, but from what she had heard, Millie didn’t really have the skillset for this too. Mosi’s best choice was thus the church that was also nearby Wyndham Place, New Church or however it was called. Jeanette didn’t pay that much attention on it’s name.

“Alright, just as I said, here we are at the exit. From here, I will have to wish you two good luck out there unless you wish to accompany me.” She stated and looked at Fyror.” I will be heading to a nearby church now, to inform them of this… incident. They should have people to deal with this sort of apparition.” She said and smiled at him, before suddenly taking a confused expression and then one followed by realization. Finally she smiled once more.

“ I just realized… you’ve actually told me your name!” She stated with a small notes of happiness in her voice.” While I didn’t tell you mine because the bloody misty thing showed up. My name is Jeanette Crane, nice to meet you, Fyror.” She presented herself with a smile.” Now I will be getting going. Will be running there actually, so if you wish feel free to follow me. Otherwise, I hope we meet again soon~” She said and without any more time to lose, she started running. Hopefully the man followed her, she’d like that. Mosi actually found him quite a good partner candidate. He had the qualities she liked even though he seemed to listen to the words of people.

She had decided to run first towards Millicent’s Wyndham. She was going to tell the servants there about this event and for them to be careful, before she’d head to the church. Millicent was after all Virginia’s friend and even though the two didn’t really interact, Mosi still felt obligated to inform them. After all the friend of a friend is a sort of friend? And hey it was on her way to the church!

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As Virginia ventured forward to the Wyndham Estate, she could not help but smile softly as one gentlemen was expelled from the abode. Her mission to rescue her dear friend would be made entirely easier, and as the disgraced lord walked by her without a simple glance, Virginia followed him with her eyes. Any gentlemen caller at the Wyndham Estate, sadly, was likely to be of an ill character, due to Mrs. Wyndham's inability to restrain herself from pairing her daughters off with any bachelor that so much as breathed and possessed a title.

However, a din called her attention away from the gentlemen, as his carriage departed from the manor. True to form, Mrs. Wyndham berated Milli on the doorstep, without any regard for whom might hear. Virginia raised an eyebrow subtly at Mrs. Wyndham's choice of adjectives. She quite fancied macabre herself, it had a certain flair to it that she quite appreciated. Peculiar and queer were equally fond choices of words, but grotesque lacked their charm.

Still, she had not come to call upon her dear friend merely to suggest better adjectives for her step-mother to use in describing her. There appeared to be a commotion in the park as well--and immediately, Virginia knew that Millicent would not come with her to Almack's until the situation was resolved. Her skills left her body limp and defenseless quite often, and so, Virginia decided that she should perhaps aid her friend in defending the manor. She trusted Milli more than others in looking after her lifeless corpse, after all.

"It is already forgotten, dear friend," Virginia assured Milli, her smile reaching her eyes. "I must be candid. I have come entirely unannounced, yet I come with an inquiry and a request for a favor. Of course, with the current crisis, I would be more than glad to remain here at the manor in order to assist in its defense. Perhaps then I may learn your thoughts on the matter as to whether or not James should soon be sent to be trained, in this present moment."

And then she paused for a moment, her voice dropping to a volume that would only allow Milli to hear. "And of course, if there are any gentlemen remaining in the house that you wish for me to frighten away, I would be most obliged to do so, my dear friend."

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Fyror kept a watchful eye on the advancing fog as he and his brother Leon followed the woman to the nearest exit. His hand was instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword, not that it would do much good if the Cargast did come for them. From his limited knowledge of this type of Soulless, he knew that it could only be truly killed by capturing the mist in a Pentatone Box and then undergoing the purification process. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his area of expertise as his training in Japan focused on the areas of strength and speed based fighting for defeating Ryne and Hraew. At this very moment, he regretted not pursuing further training. He hated feeling useless to help someone.

The fog suddenly stopped advancing and tore off in the opposite direction where it vanished under a bridge and into the mist above the water. It gave Fyror little relief as he had a nagging feeling that there would be more Soulless to deal with this day. The air was filled with the sounds of people screaming as they scattered away from the scene, and in the middle of Hyde Park laid the lifeless body of the Cargast’s victim. He felt a pang of sadness knowing what the poor girl had gone through, and after 72 hours she would change into a Soulless Cargast. Her fate was to become an abomination to the living.

Fyror, Leon, and the woman soon arrived at the closest exit from Hyde Park. Fyror continued to scan their surroundings for any new threats while he listened to what the woman had to say. He nodded his head in acknowledgement to her statement that she would go to a nearby church to receive aid for dealing with the Cargast. It seemed to be a logical place to go to. Though she said it was nearby, he was hesitant about letting her travel alone considering there was a possibility that there were more Soulless out there. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because he wasn’t there to help protect her. However, his mind also went to his mother and sister who he had left in a nearby inn. They were probably worried sick, and he would hate for them to risk stepping outside into all of this madness. Perhaps he could send Leon. Though he didn’t have nearly the same amount of training as Fyror, it was a better option than his mother and sister having no one to keep them safe.

Fyror couldn’t help but glance over at the woman when he heard the note of happiness in her voice at her realization that he had given her his name. He gave her a small smile when she told him her name: Jeanette Crane. She was evidently eager to get going, and Fyror couldn’t blame her. He turned to Leon and quickly spoke to him, “Leon, I need you to go back to the inn and make sure our mother and sister stay there. I can’t leave Jeanette to travel alone. Keep our family safe while I am gone.” Fyror left Leon little time to object as he took off after Jeanette. He prayed that his family would be safe through all of this. London clearly wasn’t as safe as people would like to think it was.

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This wasn't the first time that Mary had been in the center of an angry mob. Nor the second. Where the Soulless were concerned, the emotions of men ran high, focused completely on self preservation. Sometimes at the cost of their humanity. This particular case, though, Mary had to extend the barest tendril of understanding. While it was semi-common knowledge that some few trained by the Vatican can attempt to prevent Soulless infection (for lack of a better term), it was also semi-common knowledge that it was not a fully reliable ability. Hence, these people that either didn't believe that it was possible to prevent Infection, or knew that it wasn't foolproof. Either way, they were scared.

Reverend Clerc reappeared on the scene, none the worse for wear. Mary hadn't heard the distinctive report of her magnum bore howdah gun. Unless something surprising was revealed, she surmised that the Ryne had escaped. For the meantime, the boy was saved. The Anglican had chased off the Ryne. Not ideal, but not a negative resolution to the event. Live to fight another day.

Well, unless the crowd had their say. Scared men and women doing what scared men and women do. Luckily, the Reverend gave them an earful. Maybe it was enough to sway their hearts. Just in case it wasn't, Mary took further precaution: As Jacques berated and scolded the gathering crowd, Mary pushed up a sleeve, revealing a forearm wrapped in black cloth. Useful if one wants to avoid the bite of something particularly nasty or a stray knife slash, alternately, it makes excellent cordage for more utility uses. She swiftly unrolled it, and used it to bind the unconscious child's hands. Thinking on the specifics, she also wound it around his mouth.

Mary knew that the child was fine. The Good Lord knew the child was fine. But the group of irate Londoners might need a little hand-holding before they came around. "The child is unconscious and restrained." she announced in a loud, clear voice. Her eyes narrowed, and she hefted the boy over her shoulder. "He is also perfectly well. If it will placate the mob, I shall place him under the care of St. Etheldreda's Church for the next three days and nights. If he relapses, I will fulfill my vow as a representative of the Order of St. Sylvester. You know what we do." If they wouldn't respond to her role as a Healer, she at least hoped that her reputation with the Church would be of help to their current situation. It would be a dark day indeed if the time came where she allowed a mob to tear a child apart without challenge.

Balancing with her halberd, Mary rose to a full standing position and began walking back to her horse. Market time was obviously done. She needed to get this kid behind walls, and soon.

"Someone should inform his parents." Her voice was calm. Her eyes were not.

"Of course, Miss." He complied to his mistress's order, and followed Mr.Darcy's lead. Wendy came from behind to follow her master, giving her a good pat as they headed to Hyde Park. They are met by people who came pouring out of the park, yelling for their lives and afraid of whatever they saw there.

As both men got to the vicinity of the commotion it seemed that the source was at the nearby tree where the crowd ran away from. THat's where Gerard caught a fog hastily drifted off the scene. He had seen something like this before, "Hope you came prepared, ser. Looks like a Cargast down yonder." he said to his taller companion as he pointed with his eyes over to the direction it went. A good amount of his decade long training was about taking action in the midst of a soulless threat, yet these specific types are very tricky to deal with. None the less he took vigilance, knowing the necessary actions that would give them time to escape if worse comes to worst. He took precaution in their situation, for his attention was now to a woman lying on the ground, lifeless it seemed, just by the foot of the tree.

Gerard went to inspect the woman who was no doubt the victim of the mist, but saving her was far too late now. He knelt down and turned her around, Gerard cringed at the woman's grotesque expression, her face as if frozen in true horror. "Poor lass." he shook his head in sorry. "Suppose there could be a way to save her still?" he said to Mr. Darcy, Gerard hoped so, if not the very slightest, it could be a chance worth taking.

Millicent gave a grateful soft smile and nod to her dearest of friends as she stood there, she knew that Virginia would understand her not being willing to leave the manor right then. If there were attacks close by Millicent would do what she needed to protect her family, even if that mean protecting her godawful step-mother who seemed bent on making her life a living hell. On one hand Millicent understood the need to marry but even though she was the eldest she would not risk any man right then, afraid that if she married and was forced to move away from her step sisters there would be no protection for her family much less no one fielding the callers for her sisters. She knew her step mother would have married any of them off to Satan himself as long as a title came along with it.

Glancing over towards Gerard she took a breath. She didn't like him running off to see what was going on in the park but there was nothing else she could do but support him. His heart was in the right place, she just didn't enjoy watching him or anyone else for that matter putting themselves in harms way. Luckily by the time Mr. Connolly and Mr. Darcy would reach the body of the woman the fog would be gone and there would be no threat from it currently. The woman was gone, already scared to death and her spirit tied. There was no saving her at this point but it would be days until the change would fully occur. It was a dangerous period of waiting now. They would need someone to be able to bind the body into a safe area until the Soul became unattached and could be captured.

"I am ever so grateful for your offer Miss Crypt but the defenses are steady and strong within the grounds of the manor. Though if perhaps you know someone who can check my presence guards, it would invaluable. Personal preference to deal with what I can see has left me less than optimal when dealing with that I cannot," Millicent admitted as she glanced around. Her brow quirking a bit as she spotted two hurrying out of Hyde Park. Neither were persons in which she knew well but she had met each in the past. It was not a formal acquaintance to say the least but it was a familiarity of names.

"If I am not mistaken, is that not Sir Kildragon and Miss Crane exiting Hyde Park in quite the hurry?" she asked a bit perplexed to see either of them in the vicinity and much together and hurrying as they were.

"Millicent!! Come here at once!" Mrs. Wyndham called from the house. Millicent had to keep herself from rolling her eyes as she forced a smile towards Virginia.

"Do excuse me for the briefest of moments, I shall return post haste. I hope..." she said before turning and gathering the folds of her skirt and hurrying within the confines of the manor. The yell had not been anything panicked, just the step-mothers usual nasally annoyance.