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The man looked very shocked at the news she gave him about a Souless within London. Well that was to be expected, after all most people got mostly used to be safe within the walls, but reality was not always such. Danger lurked everywhere and it was frankly very possible the Souless were never comepletely gone from the city. Mosi never believed the walls provide as much security as people hoped to from the first tiem she rememebred seeing them.

She then smiled at nodded as the man realized her gender after taking a look at her." Yes." She nodded at unwanted confirmation as the man motioned to them to follow him. Mosi only nodded with a smile, throwing a look at Fyror, waiting for a moment so both of them start walking together through the church into what appeared to be the man's office.

When they entered the office, the man sat at his desk. "Now, please, tell me what you both know in full detail." He asked with Mosi nodding at his words.

"Yes, not even an hour ago in Hyde park. In broad daylight actually. A woman appeared being chased by a Cargast, but before anything can be done, it was already too late. Her body is already being taken to another church I assume, but the original Cargast could still be in Hyde park. It blended with teh mist above the water there." Jeanette quickly explained the situation." Who knows there might be even more than one... just I've had this bad feeling since I woke up."

Millicent sat at the ready, just in case, as her friends body lay vulnerable to anything and everything the world could throw at them at that moment in time. Thankfully, the world was kind and left the two at peace. Well, at least as much peace as could be had while having to listen to the muffled yells and demands of her step-mother through the closed door. It was the day of an event and that never bode well within the confines of the manor. Milli could do nothing but feel sorry for the staff of the house being ordered about the way they were, it was truly a test of patience to just sit there and listen and yet she did. She couldn't leave Virginia right then.

How they managed to keep any staff was a miracle in and of itself in Millicent's mind. She did what she could to make sure that the staff was well taken care of but there was only so much she could do to buffer them, which in truth was far more than she did for herself. At least her mother had never struck one of the staff. That was at least of some solace in these times. She could never understand her step mothers temper or want to attend these functions. Especially in these times, when people were dying because of Soulless. Why couldn't Elizabeth see that it was better to have her daughters trained to defend themselves instead of teaching them what the latest fashion and hair trends were?

Hearing Virginia starting to come about her mind came back to the task at hand and she rose from her place and slipping the blade back into the leather sheath on her thigh before rushing over to her and handing her a glass of water from the table. Her brow quirking upwards slightly as she set herself down next to her friend. "What visions brought you to this conclusion? Not that I doubt your words but you know my mother, death could be hosting the event tonight and she would simply say that we must change the colors we were intending on wearing."



Elizaveta gave Mary a soft smile and tilted her head slightly as she listened. "There is no need to apologize my good voman. If it is in your nature to do so and to remain formal, then please do not let my vords dissuade you. It is only a personal request due to the nature of my visit to these lands that are so far from my ovn." Her words were kind as she spoke and her voice was gentle. Her eyes glancing towards her guards for a moment and holding her hand out to them to let them know to keep their distance at this point. The sound of hilt hitting sheath lightly echoing through the chapel as they stepped back into position by the doors.

"Do forgive my escorts, they are ever so protective of the non-spiritual aspect of my life," she said as her eyes looked around, listening to Mary's words once again. Gathering the folds of her gown she held her hand out to Mary as a look of concern came across her features. "I dare say then prayer by his side is far more poverful than prayer within the confines of the chapel. May I look upon him? Perhaps I can be of assistance Mary. The ways of my people and knovledges of our kind are vastly different than the ones I have read about that are knovn in these parts."

On taking Elizaveta's hand one would find they were rough and calloused, not smooth and soft like one would expect from someone who was dressed in finery. It was odd, granted it was also odd that the woman did not want to be addressed formally, had spoken to the Pope and now wanted to see the child. There were whispers that some of the nations had ways about them with Soulless that were unknown and untaught outside of their borders, wanting to remain separate from the rest of the world, perhaps where Elizaveta was from was one of them.

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Fyror watched the man’s expression as Jeanette informed him of the Cargast attack in Hyde Park. A startled look crossed the man’s face and understandably so. With the sheer magnitude of Jericho’s barricade at thirty feet high and twenty feet deep with a single entrance it provides the near perfect illusion of safety. Though Fyror had no doubt that it had its flaws, and the Soulless have surely found them. That is assuming they weren’t already here, biding their time in the shadows. These Soulless needed to be dealt with before they multiplied and became too much to handle. After all, these walls could not only keep others out but also keep everyone in.

The man began to speak up but paused as he did a once over Jeanette, apparently noting her unusual choice of attire. Fyror’s jaw tightened the slightest in annoyance. He caught Jeanette’s glance in his direction out of the corner of his eye. He was glad that she didn’t seem too bothered by the man. Fyror was furthermore relieved when they weren’t met with any opposition and the man led them to his office.

Fyror followed alongside Jeanette into the man’s office. The man sat down at his desk and pulled out a ledger. “Now, please, tell me what you both know in full detail,” he stated after dipping his quill in the ink. Jeanette promptly began explaining the ordeal they had witnessed. Fyror listened to her explanation and was ready to provide any added details or fill in any gaps.

“The victim was a young girl. It was a seemingly random choice, though once the girl is properly identified perhaps we will have more insight on the matter. The Cargast, in the form of a thick fog, started to head deeper into Hyde Park. It had plenty of potential victims and ample opportunities to attack once more, but it didn’t…” Fyror filled in the gaps and openly deliberated on what it could mean for the people of London. His face fell and his body stiffened as a horrible realization hit him. “Maybe it was sending a message…We can’t deny that these Soulless could be more intelligent than we first thought. After all, they were once human.” He glanced over at Jeanette before looking back at the man. His face revealed his genuine concern over the given situation. He knew that there were surely dark times ahead.

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Virginia accepted the drink from Millicent without too much hesitation. Her friend was too noble to poison her, and if Millicent ever did attempt to lace her drink, Virginia would be but amused. Perhaps it was a Crypt family oddity, this obsession with death and the horrors in this world, yet Millicent's words brought a brief smile to her face. Her mother would have said something similar--not from a fixation due to marriage, but from practicality. There was a reason every Crypt owned a good portion of black. It was best to be prepared. And of course, with the number of public hangings Virginia attended, her black dress was put to good use.

"It is heading towards Almack's," Virginia explained. "I was not able to follow it much further without substantial risk, and as much as I would love to explore the depths of whatever hell awaits me, I cannot abandon dear James just yet."

She then recounted the rest of what she had seen to Millicent--including the peculiar fog that had attached itself to the corpse. She sipped more of the water, considering for a moment what duty called her to do. "I shall send word to Almack's to cancel the event for this evening. Your mother cannot attempt to wed you to Satan if there is no party to attend." Virginia then stood up from the bed, stretching her limbs ever so slightly.

"If you wish to live to your birthday in two days' time, then I must strongly advise you to remain at home," Virginia continued. "I would hate for your deathday to come so soon, dear Millicent."

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Sister Mary bowed her head slightly and gave a polite smile as her noble acquaintance acquiesced to her habitual formality. She would need time and clear familiarity before she could comfortably refer to anyone by a shortened version of their first name, not when she knew their full, given name and especially not when she knew they were titled.

As a child, she was raised to act in a manner befitting a lady of class. She was the daughter of a hereditary Knight (not that she would inherit the title under British law), and as such was raised heavily to understand the concepts of social hierarchy and her family's place within it. She had long since left that part of her life behind, but disciplined indoctrination of divine training and that of the militant Swiss Guard took over where the lessons of a Knight's daughter left off. Her understanding of the world's most famous personal soldiery also gave her keen insight into the actions and motivations of Elizaveta's detachment of Imperial Guards.

"Your guard and I have much in common, my Lady, and I hold them to no fault in the commission of their duties. But to your point of prayer: While I find solace the more effective means, my way is not the only way. If you have knowledge of a technique or mystery that may be of further help, I would be grateful were you to examine the boy."

Mary moved to the side doors of the Chapel, using her halberd as a walking staff. She swung them gently on their hinges and held one open, motioning for Elizaveta to pass through. The young Dame looked around for Bishop Mansfield, hoping urgently for the update he promised from earlier. But she now had obligated herself, and the boy she rescued earlier, to the ministrations of this Russian lady.

"He will have been placed in aide's quarters near my own. Please, come with me."

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“The girl... was taken by other people who by what I got were also heading to bring her body to a holy temple in the area most likely.” Mosi quickly replied with a mix of calm and grateful voice.” Surely they'd be talked about by now. Won't take too long to find where her body ended.” She added with a self confident voice.” My main goal was to inform a place also. I'm sure more people are spreading the word around by now too. The more places are on alert the better... This has the markings of something bigger. Like a storm waiting to happen... terrible dreams, almost like omens right before a Souless attack? In the eve of one of the biggest gatherings of people to happen? Can't be a coincidence, right? ” The black haired woman said with concerned voice.

Afterwards the man excused himself, clearly needing to talk with his superior, Mosi surmised. What she didn't expect was for him to ask for them to write their information. She understood the reasoning, but she didn't exactly get along well with... writing. She could do it more or less, but still it was annoying.

Nevertheless she nodded in agreement and took it upon herself to slowly write down her name and address. It wasn't the most beautiful of handwriting, but it was clear enough to read at least.

After that was done and eventually when Fyror also finished with writing down his part, she turned towards him.” Shall we head out now? I'm sure you want to get back as soon as it's possible.” She said with a smile, waiting for him to join by her side so they can walk together.

People continued to give him looks as Gerard passed by the streets. He would only be greeted by glances and glares, exchanging hushed whispers after he passes, their eyes never left him. It was only natural for them to be wary, especially with a dead soulless victim hunched over him blatantly parading in the center of town, it is a difficult thing to not notice. This went on as he neared the walls, he heard a ticking from behind, the sound one does with their tongue to make a particular sound.

"Guthrie says there'd be another one." A stout, ruddy faced man with his twiggy companion was walking with him just a fair distance away. Their conversation was audible enough for Gerard to make it out. The stout man's reaction seemed unsurprised, probably from the aforementioned news of Gerard's coming, but by no means unfazed by the whole happening. "First there was that boy rushed down to St. Etheldreda's. Now this. " Said the other taller man. The other one shook his head. "That other one's bad news though." His partner nodded "I'll say." The talking ceased, as the two men stopped at a certain point, and walked with him no more.

Gerard finally reached the walls of the tower of London, unmounted from his horse and tied him on the nearest hitching post. He scooped the body and carried her on his arms as he walked towards the walls. Though St Peter's was just beyond that, security was still rather strict. He was met by men in red whom their attentions caught by the Irishman. They walked towards him, the tower guards, as they cautiously observed the body he carries. One of them, stood tall in front of him, the color of his uniform seemed to flare from the sun which slightly hurt Gerard's eyes.

Millicent nodded and rose form her place. She thought about what Virginia was suggesting. She doubted anyone would listen to her friend and the severity of the situation but it could not hurt to try could it? Her next words struck her as odd as her brow rose slightly. "I believe you are still mind fogged my dear friend, my birthday was two days ago," she said quietly as the yelling continued outside of her room.

Turning she let the subject drop. There was nothing to say of it. When her father was home her birthday had always been cause for celebration but since his absence there had been none this year. She had spent the day alone, having left well before dawn and not returning until well after dark that day. She had been screamed at by her step mother for it and struck but not out of a mothers worry but because she had not been handy to help her sisters shop for new reticules for the event this evening. She took her punishment, glad she had missed such an "adventurous" outing in favor of sitting at her fathers office near the pier going over the books. Someone had to keep the place running.

Smiling she stepped over to the door and opened it slowly, peeking her head out to see if the coast was clear. Thankfully it was right then. It seemed her step mother and sisters were in the sitting room down the hall and away from the stair. It seemed like a miracle to her to say the least. "Let us go and fetch you parchment and quill. We can send a messenger when you are done scribbing the notification. I would think that would be preferable to doing down there in person considering the circumstances."

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Fyror watched as the man took down all of the information they provided. Something new seemed to come to his mind as finished up his writing. He set down his quill and looked at Fyror and Jeanette oddly. “Where is the girl? What church?” he asked, addressing Jeanette’s statement that the victim’s body had been taken to another church. Clearly he was wondering why they had not just brought the body with them to this church. It was indeed an understandable question, but the situation was what it was. Jeanette’s explanation seemed to pacify the man as he did not further press the situation.

The man slid a piece of parchment and a quill over to them and asked for their contact information. He then stated that they may leave when they are done with that before excusing himself from the room. Jeanette grabbed the quill first and slowly began to write her name and address. The way she wrote slowly and carefully led him to believe that writing was not her strong suit. He suppressed the sudden urge to rest his hand on top of hers and help steady and guide her hand. He mentally shook that thought away, knowing that such an action would likely be deemed as inappropriate and be rather unwelcomed by her. Instead, he purposefully kept his hands by his sides until she was done. When she finally set down the quill, he then took it up and wrote his contact information below hers. Needless to say, his writing was notably more refined than hers. He supposed that was due to having a fair share of practice with all the paperwork he has had to fill out, as required of an officer in the British infantry.

When he was done, he turned back to her. He nodded his head in response to her question and gave her a kind smile as she waited for him. Fyror’s gaze takes in the main chapel area as they leave the office side by side. The man that they had been speaking to is now off talking to the pastor of the church. Fyror looks at the intricate paintings adorning Brunswick Chapel of Ease to St. Maryle Bone one last time before he and Jeanette exit the building together.

The peace and sense of safety that the chapel had provided soon leaves Fyror. He is thrusted back into this new reality: an enclosed city infested with God knows how many Soulless. The people hanging just outside the church can be heard gossiping about this and that, and the hackney driver that Miss Millicent Wyndham provided is rubbing down the horse as he awaits Fyror and Jeanette. He quickly notices them and asks where they wish him to take them to next. “My family is staying at the inn adjacent Hyde Park. Please drop me off there and then you may take Miss Crane home next. After that you are free to go,” Fyror explained. He then turns to lend Jeanette a hand into the coach.

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At Millicent's words, it was Virginia's turn to raise an eyebrow. Was the date not the 17th of March? She supposed that it was possible that she had lost track of time, and that dear Alfred usually managed her schedule for her. Perhaps she had been mistaken. At any rate, she felt a slight pain of regret. She had not spent the day with her dear friend. Though, Virginia was aware that they had very different ideas of festivities. After all, she had gone to a public hanging on the day of her birth.

"Then in two days time, do keep your schedule clear," Virginia said, with a slight twinkle in her eye. "We shall celebrate your unbirthday. I shall have Alfred prepare something extraordinary...I do not believe there are any executions scheduled for that date, so it should suffice."

Virginia did sense that Millicent didn't wish to discuss it further, of course. She smiled slightly as Millicent crept to the door and peered her head out, reminding her of a mischievous child attempting to escape the watch of its parents. Of course, Virginia had no true qualms with setting out herself to fight the soulless. Alfred would keep watch over James, but her friend had little experience with fighting the ethereal. And she could not in good conscience leave Millicent vulnerable to the darkness. Her friend was built for the light.

"A reasonable plan, no doubt," Virginia replied. "I shall send word to the Sister as well. She would be well advised to avoid those grounds this evening as well." Once Millicent had left the room, Virginia would then follow her, minding her steps as to not create a din.

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Everything indeed passed rather quick just Jeanette suspected things would go. There weren't after all much to report or stay after they informed the church's clergy about the sighting. Things were now in the hands of those better suited to fight and chase down those ghostly predators that appeared to stalk London. The Cargast... she never wanted to deal with those if possible as those things generally weren't something that could be hacked to pieces or turned into pincushions. She knew her presence guards and could protect her abodes, but direct confrontation wasn't an option.

As she waited for Fyror to write down his name and such, she did notice he wrote a lot faster and neater than her. It was to be expected as she never had much interest in learning to write the language of her parents, but knew well enough she'd need to be able to do so along with reading. Anyhow when he was done and they headed to leave the chapel. Mosi was actually quite happy with how things proceeded. She got to meet a nice man and enter one of these fancy temples, not to mention help the community by informing people in place to deal with problems. Now she had to get home, get changed and when the time was right leave for the Almack's, so she can get there earlier to check their presence guards.

As they were leaving, Mosi noticed the man they just spoke to. He was speaking to another person from the church. If she was not mistaken the other man was the pastor. She just smiled as they passed and nodded.

As expected, their transport was waiting for them outside the chapel. She smiled when Fyror told the driver where he needed to go and afterwards turned to lend her a hand into the coach.” Thank you.” Mosi stated with a smile and took his hand while getting into the coach. She was going to say her address to the driver when they dropped off Fyror.

“This went as well as expected. I would have liked to spend some more time with you, but sadly time is also pressuring me... I accepted an invitation earlier which makes me obligated to attend the Almack's and earlier than the official opening too.” She stated with a sigh and not really pleased expression.” Maybe we can meet again at a later date?” She asked him with a curios expression.

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The young Dame led her noble guest (and her bodyguards too, apparently) away from the Chapel, past the Quadrangle, Cloister, and up stone stairs to a corridor containing the rooms where visiting Bishops and dignitaries might stay. It is within this castle-like hallway that Mary found her lodging, and where she supposed that the Nuns from earlier brought the child. Not to her rooms, though in her search she did peek her head in, but into one of the Aide's rooms, positioned very nearby so that the people designated to use these rooms might never be too far away from trusted advisers or servants. She quickly realized that the child wasn't where she expected him to be. It was ...annoying.

To begin with, she believed that these Nuns, these women who had apparently earlier forgotten their oath of Obedience, had dropped the kid outside or left him near the stable. That reminded her... Mary took another look inside of her rooms, hastily grabbing her white and red robe, soiled from earlier. If the kid were stashed someplace logical by the Nuns, it would be in the Infirmary where people who were already watching over others could see to him, just to make sure. Laundry was nearby.

Their path led them back down to the Quadrangle and farther into the Ely House. Not very far away from the pale light filtering in from the open sky of the courtyard, the fresh faced Apostolic dropped off her robe with a cheery smile, giving the women present and warm "Oh, thank you!" before continuing a couple more doors down. She stopped, waving over the Russian Lady and her Imperial Guard. Her speech was admittedly mostly for the guards. "In this place we provide what service we can for the sick and injured. We try to keep it a place of calm and healing. If it is at all possible, could you men... um... please try to look a little less threatening? We are here to visit an ailing child, remember." Mary knew what it meant to be in militant service of another. But she also knew what it meant to honestly care for others. These men had families, quite possibly. Maybe they could show a modicum of compassion. Or at least pretend to.

Sister Mary opened the door to their smallish medical ward and held it open for Elizaveta. After she entered (rightly with escort, of course), Mary slipped inside and closed the doors behind her. She leaned her halberd against the line of cloak pegs near the door and retook her place at the head of their little procession.

The Infirmary itself was everything that one would expect from a hospital of the time and place. Mary had often wished that those in charge would take some cues from physicians much farther south; Europe proper seemed to have more knowledgeable doctors at their disposal. Here, vinegar and prayer seemed to be the catch-all treatment, except in the cases of obviously traumatic injury (and Mary had often suggested that even then, they snuck in Biblical verses and pickling fluids). The letting of blood was also a common practice, but thankfully that was not being demonstrated at the time.

Moreover, the Nuns taking care of this place seemed intent on murmuring incessantly, and mostly about Sister Mary. She had no idea that being a Papal Dame and Vatican trained Venator est Inanimati would earn her such undeserved scorn from the women of St. Etheldreda's. These mutterings, barely given a passing attempt to conceal, broadcast their belief that Mary's abilities (which she supposedly didn't have in the first place) didn't work right, and that the boy would turn yet. The Apostolic's face turned to the nearest set of them, face twisting into a look of hurt and outrage simultaneously until the thought hit her: Check on the boy. Maybe they're saying mean things for a reason.

Sure enough, the child did not look well. It couldn't be that the healing did not take. His wounds were closed and health restored. And he could not be succumbing to the Ryne - she knew by divine providence that her Lord had allowed the taint of the Soulless to be purged from his body. But the child's lips looked cold, even as is body showed signs of approaching fever. This was something else. Whatever the problem, it was most certainly beyond the capacity of the mundane healing techniques here. Also, seemingly untouched Mary's gift of Timyne.

"Here is the boy, my Lady. He was Healed, and his soul was protected. If you can do more to heal or give greater knowledge of his ailment, I would be very grateful. I know he would, as well."

Regrettably it was not the 17th of March, but in fact the 23rd. Yet, Millicent was stating her birthday was two days prior? Her birthday was on the 19th, making it four days ago. It seemed both women were having a little trouble with the day. For Millicent this was almost unheard of, she was always so on point and time when it came to matters. She was never one to lose track of time but right then neither woman seemed to know they were indeed off on their own marks.

Stepping out of her room, Millicent escorted Virginia down to the study, opening the large oak doors and closing them behind them. It was one of Milli's favorite rooms in the manor. filled with books and thick tapestries her father had hand hug to keep the noise to a minimal. It was one of the few places of solace for when her step mother got to be louder than usual. Right then the near silence was most very welcomed.

Wandering over to her fathers desk she pulled out the chair to allow Virginia to have a seat before she sought out parchment and quill. Setting them down on the desk for her friend before she herself picked up the daily post. Her brow raising as she took note of the date published on the news paper itself. "The twenty third?" she said to herself under her own breath as her knees bent and she took a seat on the edge of the sofa in the room. How had she lost so many days?



The men looked at Mary with stoic faces and Elizaveta's lip curled in as they were asked to look less threatening. "You vill have to forgive them, they speak not your language," she said before turning an exchanging words with them in Russian. After a brief moment the men did nothing of the sort but simply took a quick step around the infirmary before taking post at the doors, on the outside of the infirmary and closing said doors behind them.

"I hope that vill do, they mean vell," she said in a lofty voice before turning her attention to the little lad. The boy was awake and looked up at Elizaveta strangely, nearly awestruck by her as she folded her gown and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "May I?" she asked the boy as she held her hand out gently to his own to take it. He simply nodded slowly and she did as such.

She seemed to go into a trance as she sat there, just gazing into the child's eyes. It was as oddly calming as it was unnerving to see someone sit as if they were a statue. Lost somewhere between the here and the now. (Whatever the hell that means) The boy seemed fine with it, just looking into Elizaveta's ice cold eyes, he felt warm on the inside and seemed to have a bit of a smile curling on the corner of his lips.

"My you have had quite the day little one, rest nov. You are safe," she said after an extended period of silence as she patted his his hand before releasing it and rising from her spot. Turning she stepped over towards Mary and leaned in slightly. "Ve should speak privately."

"Stop right there." The guard shot him a look of suspicion, meticulously questioning him of his presence. "Who are you?" He asked sternly. " And who is this dead body you carry?" Two of the guards behind him step forth, hands gripping their weapons as if to apprise him of the seriousness of this situation. Gerard turned his stare back to the guard in front of him, "My name is Gerard Connolly," he answered, clearing his drying throat, "I seek entrance to St.Peter's for some help in handling a soulless victim. " The man questioning turned his head to his fellow guardsmen, both gave him an unsure look and abruptly went back to Gerard. "Right. Another one of those."

He then followed a series of questions; where exactly did he came from, how did she die and how long ago, all of which he answered sincerely , enough for the guards to know that he was indeed telling them the truth. But no matter the case, the guards denied him of entrance to the walls. "I'm afraid I cant let you in." He said, expressionlessly, shaking his head. "We got enough of an uproar already. And I'm not just about to let one in the front door."

"..or wall." One of the two younger looking guards behind him raised a finger, faltering as his superior looked back at him, unamusedly. "However" Going back to Gerard, he continued and pointed down the street. " St. Eth's not too far from here. Just three blocks over." he said a bit miffed under his breath. " They already got one body over there. I'm sure they can deal with another." Of course, as what Gerard had heard from the men talking on the ride over and now that it wont be possible to ask any help to St. Peter's, St. Eth's is the more likely option. He gave them a slight nod as a sign of acknowledgment and meekly turned away. He walked back to his ride, then hung the body back over."To St. Eth's it is." He gently petted his horse's muzzle.

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Fyror entered the coach after Jeanette and took the seat across from her as the door was shut behind him. Thereafter they were quickly whisked away towards Hyde Park. He let out a small sigh as he looked out the window for a moment at the passing scenery. Today was certainly proving to be…interesting. The presence of Soulless in the confines of London weighed heavily on him. He feared for the safety of his family, the safety of the people who lived here, and the safety of this woman that he now viewed as a dear friend. He did not try to hide the gnawing worry from his facial features as he returned his gaze to Jeanette.

“My family and I will also be at Almack’s tonight, so we will see one another again sooner than you anticipated. I cannot guarantee that I will be good company though. I dislike such public events as it most often means I get to be openly ridiculed for the majority of the time. Apart from my family and fellow officers, most people do not treat me as kindly as you have,” Fyror stated earnestly. “The new threat that these Soulless pose only makes matters worse. I really wish my family was back at Colchester Garrison surrounded by its walls and squadrons of soldiers. My father and some of the other officers are due to arrive sometime today so at least there will be a few more people to help make London safer.”

The coach began to slow down as they neared the inn where Fyror’s family was staying. The door was opened as soon as they came to a stop in front of the inn. Fyror looked over at Jeanette as a tender smile brightened up his dull features. “We shall meet again. Take care, Miss Crane,” he said before exiting the coach. He saw his brother Leon was waiting for him just outside of the inn, and he made his way over to him.

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Of course the soldiers didn't speak English. It was a shot in the dark at best, anyway, considering the lack of response when they refused to answer her earlier. Curiously, they seemed to understand what Bishop Mansfield was saying to them, using the same King's English that Mary herself employed for the purposes of conversation. Perhaps it was the Apostolic's more stoic nature while engaging in professional activities. The Bishop was most certainly a more expressive fellow. If they recognized him as the superior in charge of this church, and he demonstrated trust in Mary that showed through with tone and expression rather than actual spoken language, that could account for her entry into the Chapel, if under escort.

But that thought was secondary to what she was witnessing with the Russian noblewoman and her new charge. Some manner of divination, she surmised, involving physical contact and gazing into the eyes of the ill-stricken child. Perhaps this was a demonstration of another of God's gifts, bestowed upon his faithful? Or something else entirely. It did not look like the somaticism of anything she was exposed to at the Vatican. Jerusalem, perhaps? They were viewed with a little wariness by the Catholic Church, but disciples of the Holy Land received their abilities by God's grace and behest. Even from what comparatively little she knew about the teachings of the Middle East, she could not place this technique. Quite possibly, Mary had been shown something new. That would be a very interesting turn of events, especially if this were something that a Papist like herself could recreate.

Even this revelation, the means by which the task at hand was accomplished, was immaterial when held next to the result of said task. Elizaveta had somehow gleaned more information than Mary could have, and voiced her preference to share this newly found knowledge in a more private environs. Sister Mary began to nod her head for a good half-second before she began to speak.

"Absolutely, Lady Romanova." said Mary in a quiet, unassuming voice. "We can relocate this conversation to the hallway, if that suits you. If more is required, I have private rooms above us."

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No one seemed prepared to disturb the two friends, and Virginia slipped inside of Millicent's father's study along side the eldest Wyndham daughter. The room was a pleasant one, rich with books and the walls almost carpeted with tapestries. Virginia smiled softly, though she doubted that the books shelved here would be similar to the ones she herself perused at her leisure. Still, the walls guarded them from the nasty screams of Elizabeth, and for that, Virginia was thankful. While the Crypts enjoyed many things, listening to the verbal abuse of their dear friends was not one of them.

"I sometimes fancy what the first ink was," Virginia murmured wistfully, as she sat at the desk, and received quill and paper. "I imagine that it must have been blood...How fitting for the times that have befallen us, with Jericho serving a reminder of that." She hesitated for a moment, considering how to best describe the visions she had seen.

And then, deciding to forgo consideration for the more faint of heart, Virginia recorded her visions on the parchment neatly and signed her name, Lady Virginia Crypt. One was addressed to those at Almack's, another to the dear Sister Mary, and a third to Alfred, as to keep him and James secure. As she finished scratching away at the letter, she glanced over at her dear friend.

"Is it now? It would seem time is moving strangely, for it to escape the watchful mark of Millicent Wyndham..."

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“Hehehe, do not worry, friend.” Jeanette replied with a smile at Fyror's statement about his company at the Almack's. It was nice to know that at least some people she knew and liked would be present at the event, but that made things just a tad more uncomfortable considering the soulless situation. The possibility of the event being a prime target of attack of those evil beings was very real and she knew full well they weren't simple beasts. If they had managed to trick through the barriers or anything else to get inside, it was going to become a real meat grinder if the people there panicked.

“Even your simple presence there will be a huge change for the better. While I don't really care what people think or whisper about me, I do find it a little lonely at times when everyone is talking between themselves and I stand alone. You being there, will give us a nice chance to chat. Besides those people judge you unfairly, if they cannot understand you for the good person you are, they lose.” She added with a smile.” You are right there, the presence of more soldiers will be a good thing, more people who won't panic and can fight and protect, the better.” Mosi nodded with a pleased smile.

She noted they were getting close as the couch started to slow down and eventually stopped. Mosi could see Fyror's brother outside and smiled as Fyror left.” Take care too, friend. Also best regards to your family.” She replied to him with a slight soft smile and waved lightly.

After that she quickly said her address to the driver of the couch.” After you bring me there, you are free.” She added with a friendly pleased voice.' This was a good...ish start of the day. It's too bad for the poor girl that died today though. I should make sure to be armed when I go to the Almack's later... I still have this bad feeling...' Mosi thought as she leaned back in her seat.

"I would think mud and ash but perhaps blood was indeed the first ink that us humans used. If only we could see those who first drew onto walls to know for sure. Perhaps somethings we will never be granted the knowledge of," she said a she sat there in thought.

Watching her friend write away at her fathers desk made her nearly mourn for the man she had not seen in so very long. She missed her father, the talks they would have, the silence they would enjoy around each other. It was a comfortably she had not felt in such a spell, she yearned for his presence once again, she always did but right then it was stronger than usual.

Sighing she nodded. "Time does not easily slip through my fingers like grains of sand, perhaps it was the dream I had this previous night that has my head swirling and time becoming lost to me," she stated as she rose from her place and took the letters, sealing each in wax before turning and heading to the door. Summoning her butler she handed them over to be delivered post haste. Closing the door behind her she looked back at Virginia.

"Though so many will be warned, I feel that this might will continue as if none were given. Perhaps it is for the best, the security there will be higher than anywhere in the city this evening. It may be safer to be within Almack's walls than here. I know unless the walls come tumbling down my mother will insist on attending so I must be prepared to be there as well. I suppose she will just have to accept that if they are to attend that I will be armed this evening, I will not loose my sisters to whatever this plague is that seems to be taking grip on the world around us."



The boy watched Elizaveta carefully, with much interest as she went over towards Mary and spoke to her. He looked a little forlorn that she seemed to be exiting the room with the woman who had saved him. Elizaveta glanced over towards the boy and smiled softly towards him as if to reassure him before turning and following Mary out of the infirmary. Once they were outside of the room which held the sick and the doors were shut she finally took a breath, or at least appeared to take a breath a bit larger than her usual calm shallow long ones that were barely noticeable to world.

"Please do forgive the secrecy Lady Hale, I just did not vish to place vorry on the child that vas not needed. From vhat I could discern is that the child vas attacked not by Ryne as one vould think but another creature that is very similar. Perhaps a private room vould be best. There are things in my country, from my country, vhich differ from the vorld here, the seclusion makes for interesting vanders of the shadovs. Ones that have adapted for such places. Vhat you are trained for and vhat is vandering the streets nov are so much alike and yet so different. Like tvins being raised by tvo different families on other ends of the vorld. I vould like to be of service if I might," she explained.

Standing there, she let this sink in. New Soulless that those of Europe, the America's, and the Middle East has yet to face. Something different and new. Something that had adapted to a different world. There had been whispers but nothing concrete had been spoken of; each location was slow to institute anything new into the books. Change came hard to all, especially those governing the ways which they had felt were soon to be unneeded. If there were new beings, this meant the treat was anything but contained but spreading and that was a horrid thought indeed.

It wasnt long before Gerard had reached the spacious vicinity of St Etheldreda's Cathedral, gazing up to admire the marvelous infrastructure before him. Though he had lived quite awhile in the city, the grandeur buildings of London never failed to catch his eye, they were unlike the usual structures where he mostly grew up in. He followed the path leading to the cathedral, the place was quiet the moment he reached near the entrance. On horseback, and with the body with him, he walked towards the man judging by his robes, was the bishop who was midway speaking to a group of people. The man in lavish robes, together with some of the people with, stood back at the sight of him. Gerard stood consciously, with the dead woman now in his arms, a scruffy Irish hound distinctly out of place in a crowd of pristine white gowns and robes.

The bishop, who was now turning a bit white under collar the moment he saw him, as if he had an idea of what he already came for. Still, he asked anyway. "Can I help you lad?". Gerard adjusted the himself, quite nervously, as everyone has their eyes on him, angered and frightened. " I brought a victim of the soulless " The murmuring coming from the group of people intensified. Gerard hopes that they would help now, he had already gone this far. But by any chance they did reject him, it wasn't as equally wise to leave the body unattended without the proper consecrations, it would be far too dangerous. That being said Gerard would be willing to even go over all the churches in London, if it means one less soulless to deal with, and laying this poor woman to rest.

"Bishop! This cannot stand!" he was cut of when one yelled from the peering crowd, the sight of the soulless in the irishman's arms had stirred up the already anxious group of people. "Please have faith that we are doing everything we can," the bishop said, trying his best to reassure them. Seems nowadays faith is the only thing that gets them by everyday. Something that Gerard wished he had, and has a hard time finding specially in these days looming with darkness of the soulless threat. "Now please return to your work or home. I will handle this, have faith in the lord and his servants." He continues on for a moment before they finally, begrudgingly take their leave slowly.

The bishop turned back to Gerard. "Forgive me, again. How can I help you and please, be quick, it has been a rather rough morning, it seems for all," he said, his eyes ended up at the dead woman in his arms. "Is there anyone here who would know how to help this poor woman?" Gerard said, his voice gentle yet touched with the roughness of his coarsey Irish accent "I'm sure the church would be able to know how to take care her. I pray."