---

---

---

---

Once Mary had finished her duties to the Grand Duchess, Virginia accompanied her friend through Almack's. She had felt the continued stare on her back but paid the culprit no undue attention. It wasn't the first occasion that a man had decided to gawk at her, after all, and she was quite certain that it would not be the last. In some ways, the intensity of the staring reminder her of the way she watched public executions, but her eyes never were too hard. They were almost drowsy in their shape, soft little circles with blue-grey irises.

As she walked with Mary, retracing their steps back to Mosi's fallen form, part of Virginia almost hoped that Mosi would rise as the Soulless. She had been taught by her family to never fear the darkness and to embrace it. While some may have thought that the Crypts would have no problem with the Soulless creatures and allowing them to continue on, it was simply a way of cheating death and avoiding the great unknown. In the Crypt family, it was seen almost as cowardly to continue living in such a manner. Yet even with the official family opinion, Virginia's own views deviated slightly from it. She could not bear the thought of seeing James as one of the Soulless. There was no question that Mosi should not be allowed to become one either.

She smiled sadly at her friend's form as they made it to that dreaded staircase. It was a small mercy that Mosi had been allowed to perish in the clothing she found most comfortable, despite the Grand Duchess' disapproval of Mosi's hypocrisy earlier on that evening. It was a pity that Mosi never got to live the life she found most exciting and comfortable as well. But more concerning, of course, was the fact that Mosi was both taller and heavier than Virginia was. And from Virginia's best guess, the same was true in regard to Mary.

"I'll take her upper half, if you might secure her legs," Virginia said, crouching down near Mosi's head and putting her arms underneath Mosi's, in order to get the best grip on her friend's fallen form. "Or I suppose I could drag her and bring her back to the Grand Duchess, if you wish to see to others who have met the reaper this evening..." She knew that she was biased towards Mosi, but she also knew that Mary had other duties to fulfill and that the bodies were beginning the process of decomposition. Mosi hadn't been the only victim of this tragedy, even if Virginia felt that Mosi was the most undeserving victim.

---

---

---

---

Maeve stared outside the window in silence for a few moments, before silently and without any warning making her way to her bed. She knelt down besides it and looked through her belongings for a few moment, her fingers curling around her pistol. It was unlikely that she would have any use for it, especially with her shillelagh proving to be especially useful and versatile, but it was a comfort to have it. She may have been posing as someone with a more respectable profession than bartender and gang member, but certain habits could not be shaken. The pistol provided her security.

The next day would be interesting, to say the very least. She had been warned against taking this job, with Seamus having already refused the offer. But the world wasn't a kind one, especially for a little girl who couldn't hear. What sort of life would there be for Roisin? Thoughts such as those kept Maeve up at nights, on occasion wondering if her daughter had been made deaf by God as punishment for Maeve's sins.

She smiled slightly, thinking of the time little Roisin wrote her first sentence. She had been so excited when she showed it to Maeve, even though Maeve herself couldn't make it out. Yet she couldn't have been prouder of her little girl. She really was the best of the Brennans. Maeve just hoped that the rest of the world would one day see it too.

---

---

She was fine! A stone fell of his chest with that realization, but another pile of boulders fell on his shoulders the moment he heard Vlad speak. Constantin's mind gears started moving just as he realized what he had done out of concern for his friend.”Diavolite da go vzemat.” He stated in Bulgarian, his tone clearly showing that those were curse words of some kind. He looked to the side and only smiled.” I'm... sorry. My concern got the better of me...” He said with apologetic voice towards Vlad.

He threw a look at Veta for a moment before quickly turning.” I will go...” He said, quickly starting to move towards the exit he came in from with quick pace. With Running pace! Without waiting to hear details from Veta even. He screwed up big time! Though could he really be blamed entirely for it? The tiger had dashed out sensing something only it's animal senses did which usually meant trouble. She had taken no one with her to protect her and she was a friend. A truly valued friend so it was natural to be really concerned about her. Now though his concerns were on the carriage that he so stupidly left. This could turn into one of the worst nights he had... worse than the first time he stepped on embers and burned himself that is.

'Be there, I pray you are there... if someone took it, I sver, I vill hunt you down and kill you in the most painful vay possible.' Were his thoughts as he moved towards the exit with running pace.

---

---

---

---

Fyror took in a deep breath as he surveyed the damage in the ballroom dealt by the Soulless and by the ton. “Are you all alright?” he ask, turning to face his family. Even when they nodded their heads in response, he still looked them over each in turn: his father Colonel Theodore, mother Lilith, younger sister Genevieve, and younger brother Leon.

“Are you sure you are alright? What all happened to you?” his father Colonel Theodore inquired, looking Fyror over.

“I am alright, physically anyways, father. Can we go over the details later?” Fyror replied. “Right now I wish to see that my friends are alright and then help deal with those who have fallen.” His father nodded his head in reply before stepping aside.

Fyror murmured his thanks and began to slowly make his rounds through the ballroom and eventually to the rooms beyond. He noted the amount of people who were dead or injured and all the destruction that had been caused in the chaos. His younger brother Leon followed alongside him, sent on behalf of their family who was clearly not too keen on letting Fyror slip away by himself again. He couldn’t blame them for worrying. “So much death and destruction in such a short timeframe, this does not bode well,” he stated solemnly, glancing over at his brother as they walked together.

---

---

---

---

---

---

Thalken brazenly scowls at Virginia with such raw intensity in those dark eyes of his. Most cannot see past that ever-present coldness he exudes, and rightly so. Most cannot fathom the soul behind it, and who could blame them. And yet, believe or not, there is so much more to Thalken than meets the eye. No one, except perhaps his sister Thalcona, is privy to the maelstrom of thoughts, emotions, and ideals that war inside his head on a daily basis. The instincts of a killer fighting for, and often winning, supremacy over the desire to be so much better than this. He wasn’t always like this. Understanding him used to be much more straight shot. He was a mercenary like his father through and through, with no doubt that his path in life was the right path for him. But in a moment, that was all shredded into pieces. The moment his mother was brutally murdered changed him forever. The veil through which he viewed his father through was torn. He realized that his father was a monster. He realized that he was a monster too. He holds all of this bitterness and turmoil within himself, and it is all filtered out in the only way he knows how, as sheer coldness. And right now, when he stares at the Lady Crypt, he doesn’t really see her per se. He sees his father’s mistakes, the wretched dealings the Talink family has made, the innocent lives lost—so much darkness, so much pain. The sooner people have the decency to settle their disputes without bloodshed, the sooner his father would be out of business and the man’s nefarious actions laid to rest.

Thalken took in a sharp breath as his sister jabbed him in the ribs, breaking him from his brooding and intense staring. Thalcona gestured over to the Grand Duchess Elizaveta, who was apparently talking to him. Whether or not he took the Grand Duchess’s words to heart was anyone’s guess as his expression remained unchanged. It remained just plain cold. Thalcona rolled her eyes at him and let out an amused snort before addressing Elizaveta. “Trust me when I say this, Your Grace, you do not want to try to get inside my brother’s head as it is very dark in there. It makes it easy to get lost,” Thalcona stated jokingly at first before growing increasingly solemn, her eyes moving to look directly at Thalken. “And he cannot deny it, because he knows it’s true.”

Thalken’s jaw clenched, the only outward indication that his sister’s words had hit home. She was right, as usual, but he wouldn’t admit that openly. He sheathed his throwing knife before pushing away from the wall and walking out of the room without a word. He went in the direction that he had seen the Lady Crypt and Mary Hale go in, and it did not take him long to locate them. He stopped several feet away from them and leaned casually against the wall. He watched them as they decided upon how to move the body of their fallen friend as the words of his sister and the Grand Duchess went through his head. A part of him realized that this would be a great opportunity to do some good while away from his father’s judgmental gaze. But unfortunately helping people doesn’t come easily to Thalken.

He shifted his weight back and forth before finally letting out a huff and stalking over to them. He stopped as he came up beside Virginia, who was currently crouched down by the lifeless body of Jeanette. “Move,” he stated as gruffly as ever. “I’ll get her.”

Gerard firstly put away the things scattered on the floor, papers and such. He would flip through the pages, studying it's contents to which mostly are business related papers. Nothing special, Gerard had no interest in such. He wasn't sure where they were respectively placed so he just neatly organized them on the study table as best he can. After he was done, the office looked a bit orderly now than it were before. Although Abigail could've done a much better job, he thought. He tried his best, still.

He closed the door behind him as he left the room and caught Abigail and Cook in the middle of a hushed conversation. Abby then rushed to the kitchen before he can even approached them. Gerard then went towards Cook who was sitting on the couch, looking at her as if wanting to get in on what was going on. He desperately wanted to know what was happening and if Millie was going to be ok. Anything that could ease his anxious worrying.

"Cook, what is going on?"Gerard searched her eyes, arms across his chest hoping, pleading that she would tell him something. He doesn't like the idea of being left out in something this serious, specially involving Millie's current state.

Elizaveta took a soothing breath and lifted her chin a bit, composing herself as she normally did after a vision had come to her. The more intense ones could be painful but those she could at least figure out something about them. The lesser ones, while rather painless left her mind foggy for a time and wondering what could they mean. The darkness and death she saw though made her shiver, it was never a good sign and she could only pray that events would cause enough of a ripple in time that they never came true or that one of the more prophetic ones would come at a later time to give her some clarity on the situation. There was always the third option. That neither would happen and what ever grim reaper was waiting in the shadows would come to claim another soul and there would be nothing she could do about it.

Turning her head she watched as Constatin darted away from the scene and towards the front door. Why had he come in to the building in the first place? Concerned? About what? Her brow rose slightly but she shrugged it off. If the carriage was gone she would be angry but she would poke fun of him for it, of course it would be stolen on his watch and she knew she would never let him live it down. Granted if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't have let her live it down either. Was the way of things between them. Outside, the carriage was not where it had been left, though on looking about it had been moved by the staff out of the way while others were getting into their own carriages and leaving the scene. No harm, no foul - This time.

In the ballroom things were as calm as one could expect with dead bodies laying on the ground and one still left impaled on a music stand. Not to mention Janes and Catherine's bodies who had been left unattended since Millicent was drug off and Mrs. Wyndham was carted off to the hospital. Not that anyone around Elizaveta had been made aware of the situation. Elizaveta wondered what had happened to the young woman for a moment but her attention was directed towards a woman who she had no meeting with. Lacing her fingers before her, she took a small delicate breath before she spoke. "I was not speaking to you, young lady. I was speaking to the gentleman. Unless he is unable to speak for himself and is a mute, don't ansver for him again vhen I speak to him. It is not your place or anyone's to speak for another. I vill trust nothing of vhat you say for I do not knov you and your lack manners dictate that I should not," she said in a decisive voice as Thalken ran off. She had no time for arrogance, especially from an over spoken twat like this woman was coming off as.

"Nov, if you vill please. Leave us be and take your snorting and eye rolling elsevhere." Turning her attention back to the fallen former leader of the Trained, she made the symbol of the cross before her chest and knelt beside him as she went into prayer for the mans soul. If he woman dared speak to her again after her dismissal she would feel sorry for her. She knew her uncle Vlad would not take well to the disruption.



Cook looked over slowly to Gerard and sighed. She had been in the study with him the entire time speaking to Abigail and within ear shot. Perhaps he just had not been paying attention. She could not fault him for it, the house seemed to be turned upside down by Millicent's arrival in the state she had been. Perhaps it was best he had not been listening or was perhaps just unaware of what the women were speaking about. That was a possibility since these things were not normally discussed within ear shot of a man. Unless he had had personal dealings with such a situation it was very likely he was just uneducated in such things that dealt with womanhood.

Taking a deep breath she reached out and took his hand gently in hers. She would not hide anything from Gerard, he was like a son to her. All the younger people in the house were, even Emma and Jane despite the fact they tended to treat the staff like any other in the ton would. Millicent seemed to be the only one since her father that treated them as equals. How could she tell Gerard what had happened? Why Abigail was rushing to make a tea with Diachylon. It was all a bit much.

"Dear, please sit down," Cook said in a depressed voice as she patted the cushion of the couch next to her. Waiting for him to be seated before she continued. Once he was, she found it hard to explain. Not so much hard to explain but hard to actually say the words. It came broken and Cook found herself choking back tears of worry and anger. "She.. Miss Milli... violated... worst way... tea... Diachylon... try stop... unwanted birth..." - it took her a long time to get even though words to come out of her mouth before she grabbed the hem of her apron and pressed it to her mouth in a clump within her shaking fist. "How could someone to that poor child?" she wept. One could barely heard Abigail's feet climb the stairs of the home and the door to Millicent's room close as she was taken the tea Abigail had prepared.

---

---

'Dqvolite da go vzemat.' He cursed in his mind on his native language after moving outside and not seeing the carriage on his initial placement spot. This was the worst possible scenario, but maybe it was still about? Without losing any more time he quickly got to searching for the big tiger certified for moving vehicle that they had to use to move Myshka about. He was pretty much ready to go on a vengeance spree until he finds that carriage, but as luck had it it was not needed after all.

“Slava bogu.” He mumbled in bulgarian and let out a sigh of relieve when he finally found the carriage that was moved out of the way for some reason. He then smiled to himself and moved over to climb on the carriage once more. He wasn't going to leave it from now on since he confirmed HER safety.' I swear she's impossible...' He thought about Elizaveta after having it confirmed she didn't take any guards with her on this place. Though he also had the feeling that Vlad may not leave this matter of no guards pass without any objections on his part from now on.' She couses so much concern and worry...'

---

---

---

---

Maeve's eyes snapped open, as she found herself in a luxurious country estate. The walls were a clean white, showing no signs of discoloration, a practically perfect paint job in each and every way. Gorgeous and undoubtedly expensive portraits decorated the walls, with the stern lady of the estate captured perfectly. Maeve found herself staring a bit, unnerved by the way the eyes appeared to follow her.

"Demented auld 'ag," Maeve muttered to herself, having not even realized that she was in a dream. She turned around as she felt a hand on her shoulder, only to be taken aback slightly as she spotted Calum. There was a bit of sugar on his cheek, suggesting that the man had been indulging himself recently. "What de 'ell do yer tink you're doin'?" Maeve hissed, grabbing the parson's arm to remove from her shoulder. But just as she touched the man's hand, he seemed to sprout and grow like a giant, growing larger and larger and larger until Maeve could hardly even see his eyes.

She took a step back, grabbing onto her shillelagh for support. Looking around the room, she attempted to look for an escape route, knowing that the parson was capable of knocking houses down with his clumsiness at a normal size when something odd struck her. Not only had the parson grown to a giant's height, but so had everything else in the estate! Or rather, she herself had shrunk.

"I'm de size av a bug," Maeve muttered, her heart beating rapidly. The parson's feet were almost wobbling as she looked at them in horror, knowing that with his track record, he'd squish her to death in just a few seconds. She was hardly any larger than a fly--why, she was practically an ant-man...or an ant-woman, rather. Darkness fell over her as the parson's foot blocked out some of the light, casting her into shadows, and Maeve took off sprinting towards a small hole in the wall. It looked to have been made by vermin, but she hardly cared.

"Ah lord save me from this lad," Maeve begged, doing the sign of the cross quickly with her free hand as she just barely managed to slide into the mouse hole, escaping the parson's foot. The sound of several crashes soon followed and she peeked her head out, only to see the entire estate engulfed in flames. The smoke was above her, thankfully, allowing the little ant-woman to breathe.

Maeve continued to watch, her eyes wide, as a bayonet appeared in the parson's hands. An exclamation of fuddle later and she felt the foundations of the burning estate shake, the portraits falling to the ground. Suddenly, the mouse hole she was hidden in had vanished entirely, leaving her in the middle of the room, right at the epicenter of the parson's chaos. He lurched forward. The bayonet fell down, heading right towards her and...

Maeve gasped, opening her eyes in her bed in the Teriny Inn. She ran her hands up and down her arms, assuring herself that she wasn't the size of a bug. The fiery catastrophe caused by the parson in her dreams hadn't happened in reality while she slept. Letting out a sigh of relief, she wondered if it was all the sugar before bed, causing her to have such odd dreams...

What little Gerard caught on the women's conversation was a subject he entirely had no knowledge of, and he was far too anxious to figure it out by himself that needed to have someone tell him exactly, slowly and every bit of it. He was filled with so much worry for Millicent.

Cook asked him to sit down, and as he did the words that followed by her did not make a single sense to him. It took him awhile to process her words and as it started to make sense, little by little, Gerard was left in shock of this realization. Millie was....who could've? The only image that came into his mind was the face of the man who had brought her earlier. It was no secret that Ratherford's had intentions of marrying Millie, not even to Gerard himself. It's as if an entire wave of emotions got through him, vying for dominance, he couldn't decide which of which he wanted to let out. First there was sadness, and then anger, a numbing desire for vengeance. He looked at the emotional woman before her, his grip was loose on her hands. He had no words.

But in the end one thing that stuck to him was the last thing Cook had said. As far as he heard, Milli hadn't spoken what she truly intends. If this is what she wanted, would it be selfish of him to try and make her see through reason? All this time his thoughts were of Marianne and their own child. The midwife reaching out her stillborn daughter to him. His beautiful baby Rosalie. If there is truly a god how can he be so cruel and have a life taken away before it could even have a chance? What else could be more important than a child? He pondered which among them is truly the most selfish.

He could not get a hold of his own emotions any longer. At this point his mind was a one way route, stopping him would be close to impossible. He stood abruptly, as he paced out the office leaving behind Cook , and raced up the stairs and to Millie's bedroom. He hadn't even realized Abigail already came before him. He gave fistful knocks on the door.

"Millie!" he pleaded, the sorrow was evident in his voice. "Millie please. Let me talk to you." His voice was strong, sympathetic and almost melancholic. "I know what happened. It does not change the fact that I'm still here for you. If only you could let me..." In truth, Gerard was scared for Millie. Scared of the pain she is going through, and what will become of her at this point on. Will she still be the same Millie she once adored? And he did not want to relive what he had gone through before.

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

The Great Bazhooli looked upon the retreating form of his colleague, Constantin, as he moved with determined stride to ensure the safety of Elizaveta's carriage. The exchanged between those two led to no small frequency of amusing incidents. The Circus was like a big family, in some ways closer than one. Even with blood relations, cousins and siblings won't always get along; they didn't always have to. But when it came down to it, they looked after each other against any outside force that would seek to do them harm. The Russian Grand Circus greatly resembled that philosophy, the Sem'ya lived it as a Code. Still, he couldn't help but take some amusement with the whole affair.

Keeping a stern face the entire time it took Constantin to exit the building, Vladimir's impatient demeanor suddenly broke as the younger man exited the building. Lively mirth danced in his expressive eyes, and a smile cracked his features. The warmth of his expression seemed to transform his entire stance into something somewhat more jovial and informal. He shook his head, touching the fingers of one hand to his brow. "Ah, is good kid, da?" he mused aloud, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes he did feel like the father of a massive, intensely colorful family. In addition to his own, mostly all grown children.

All the same, his thoughts were to the safety of Elizaveta, and the heading off of any difficulties that may arise. This included attempting to prevent her from making a painful display of her Rusyn Trained Skills against those that likely just needed a little direction, plus the self control to refrain from precisely that, himself. Additionally, he was not overly a fan of the level of common speech directed at her. She was royalty of a tier above anything this British Empire could offer, excepting maybe the King himself. Her appearance at this set of Assembly Rooms had the same level of social disproportion as an Earl of this nation openly frequenting a portside tavern. Perhaps he should expect the people milling about to assume she was merely one of them, but from a different nation. Or maybe they were not fully aware of what a Grand Duchess was. Vladimir thought to cut off a potential problem, addressing Thalcona directly so that Elizaveta could continue her work in peace.

"You show big courage vhen you speak to Her Grace vith such familiarity, malyshka." He removed his leather banded top hat, holding it in front of some of his more obvious knives, and walked slowly between her and Elizaveta. Vladimir smiled warmly yet again, an expression of joy and openness that was excellently cultivated to win crowds and settle nerves. "Ne volnuysya, ah.. Don't worry. Is okay. I can maybe forgive. Mistakes are things ve all make, da? But if you must speak vith informal tone, you speak vith me. Am not as important as she; Grand Duchess requires time and quiet. Spiritual vork to do."

The Great Bazhooli took a step or two in Thalcona's direction, continuing with rising passion of speech. "Tell Vladimir, little darling, are you satisfied vith station in life? I know, men of country do not like vomen vith opinion or authority. I hear they do not give you same standing as brother here. Is for shame. You are striking lady, vith big, soulful eyes." He did seem to take interest in the younger woman's eyes, stepping forward another pace or two. "Can do vhat brother, fathers can do, da? Perhaps your courage, your beauty, you might become something more. Better than vhat vas thrown at you from birth."

His voice quieted to just above a whisper, most of the distance closed between them, but not as much as to seem overtly disrespectful. "In time, maybe can help vith this. But now, I vould take glimpse at vhat you could be, vhat you are." His face became a visage of smouldering, curious intensity. His own eyes sparkled, hazel green in the mixed light of the chamber as he gave a mischievous half-smile, "Vith permission, malyshka... I vould read vhat I can from your soft, chocolate eyes. Is called Chteniye Dushi, a gift others may learn for selves." He bowed his head slightly in deferred respect, maintaining eye contact the whole while. "May I?"

---

---

---

---

---

"No, Lady Crypt." began Mary, still addressing her friend with formality. It was a nuance of her work, she was acting in her role as Dame of St. Sylvester. Much as a military man when on duty or under orders must refer to people in a specific manner, so did the knightly Apostolic Sister. She would soften, she would comfort, but later. In the meantime, there was yet work to do. "You fulfilled your part of the promise. I will not let you do this by yourself unless you ordered me away." Mary's voice lost some of its formal edge, becoming quiet and kind. "You don't need to do this alone. I'm here for you."

If there was one thing they had, it was time. With the Soulless gone, it was all the time they needed, and more. It still bothered Mary, and would for some time - the incident felt planned, from the onset to the retreat. All of it bent for a single purpose, she believed, but she could not supply evidence to support this, save for the coincidence that everything began to quiet with the Arch Graveolase was murdered. Not his burdens had become hers. She did not want this, would never had wanted it. But after the display of the more disappointing part of human nature from the Ton, she thought perhaps it was better that she have it than some self-serving buffoon who would wield the power of the office for personal gain. So she might have to secure her position as best she could from those who would attempt to take it from her, at least until a worthy successor to the previous could be established.

Those thoughts were shaken away by the presence of a man from earlier, the same man who stood mute, staring daggers at Virginia without notable blink or pause. Mary had no clue as to why he would be here now, his actions seemed to be an attempt at intimidation or something predatory, following the two women into an otherwise quiet section of Almack's while they shared a moment of restrained emotion at the death of a fallen friend. It seemed wholly inappropriate, and what with the strange happenings of the evening, Dame Hale was not set to take any chances with this brooding newcomer. Soulless, murder, the darkness of humanity, blood, death, all with the promise of more to come, and this man decides to insinuate himself into a personal task after staring uncomfortably at Virginia for an extended period of time while others recover from the attack. No. Something was wrong here.

The sound of metal clearing leather, dull and muffled, sounded from Mary as she knelt next to Mosi's unmoving legs. In the same instant, the metallic click-click of a firearm hammer coming to a fully cocked position could be heard; both sounds heralded the sudden and unexpected presence of one mother of a personal sidearm in the hands of the Apostolic girl, aimed solidly at the strange man as he moved way too close for her liking and offered to "Get Her". A chain rosary hung from her wrist as she held the massive howdah pistol on the man, giving a surreal image as she rose to her feet.

Her slight Scottish accent was readily detectable as she spoke to the man. In stark contrast to the weapon, her voice and face were absolutely seraphic, talking to him in the same manner she would have a child that had wandered into her cathedral, lost and in need of assistance. Her eyes, though; crystal blue and cold, unwavering, intense. She was a Knight of the Catholic Church, presently in a war for the souls of mankind. Her voice spoke courtesy. Her eyes did not. "Oh, thank you sir, but no. I believe the two of us can handle this without further help. Perhaps someone in the ballroom or out on the grounds could benefit from your unintroduced and presumptuous presence? Mayhap one who has not been given the privilege of your unblinking notice for the past half hour and has no reason to surmise that you have ulterior motive?"

Mary stood to the side, bringing her other hand behind her as if adopting part of a fencer's stance. The rosary continued to swing back and forth, reflecting little pieces of irregular light as a dull, metal pendulum. "We are well here, sir. Please return the way you came. I have no desire for further violence this night."

---

---

---

---

Virginia nodded and smiled softly as Mary said that she did not need to attend to Mosi's corpse alone. That had always been a family strength of the Crypts--no matter what hardships befell them, they would see them through together. It helped to move about in the shadows and the darkness, keeping the intensity and spark alive. For Virginia, as well as most Crypt women, could never fall in love with someone who did not feel moved by the flames. No companion who could not heartily dance a mamushka would be sensible for her.

"I must thank you, then, Dame Hale," Virginia replied. She hardly had even finished processing the presence of the dark stranger in the room when Mary drew a sidearm, aimed at the man. Had Virginia not had her hands full, what with supporting Mosi and whatnot, she perhaps would have took up her twin axes. As much as she would enjoy releasing her anger with a decent and proper fight to the death, now was not the time for bloodshed or violence.

She could not help but feel that Dame Hale was too kind to the man, perhaps too soft. He had been gawking at her as if she was a sideshow freak, a gypsy dressed in the clothing of a queen for all to come and see. And while she was quite accustomed to stares, he had intruded upon Mosi's current resting place. He had dared to step in the sacred site of Mosi's death, cheapening it in Virginia's eyes.

"Whatever obsession you may have with me, leave it for now," Virginia said, her voice far colder than Mary's. "There has been too much lost for one night's tragedy. If you are foolish enough to wish to end my life, do it another day and I shall gladly join you in that dance of death. But now is neither the time nor the place, stranger." Her grip on Mosi tightened, yet there was the slightest hint of gratitude in her face for Mary's actions. There was no more need nor want for the reaper this night. Hopefully, the formidable form of Dame Hale would be enough to send the stranger away and allow Mary and Virginia to tend to Mosi.

---

---

---

---

At the familiar sound of a firearm being cocked, Thalken’s intense gaze swiveled to the side to inescapably stare down the barrel of Mary’s drawn howdah pistol. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring slightly before his jaw clenched. She did not know who she was messing with and the formidable family she was risking pissing off; however, that truth could work vice versa as well. He had underestimated the tenacity of this apostolic woman. That’s not to say though that he could not easily disarm her and overpower her if he so desired to. Regardless, he did not see the point in taking such drastic, offensive actions. As long as he played his cards carefully, she would not shoot him. She just wanted to frighten him off. And if he was wrong? Well, he was not afraid of death. He had stared it down one too many times for it to strike fear into his heart. He had long since accepted the fact that no matter how much he tried to change his ways or atone for his actions, hell still had a special place for him, one that would be right alongside his father. Why try to changes his ways then? Because it was about damn time to do something right for a change of pace.

He snorted contemptuously in response to Mary’s words. “If you wish to frighten me, you will have to try harder than that. I am a Talink, afterall,” he spoke coldly. There was an earnest quality to his words. A tiger bolting unexpectedly into the room inevitably caught him off guard, but having a gun pointed at him, he’s been there and done that. Yet as he uttered his family name, there was a hint of distaste present in his voice. When Virginia spoke up, his gaze left Mary and met the Lady Crypt’s. He was still aware of the apostolic woman’s presence, his skin tingling with the sensation of present danger. However, he was much more interested in what the Lady Crypt had to say.

Thalken shook his head, scoffing at Virginia’s words. “If I wanted to harm you, you would already be dead,” he retorted icily, leaning in towards her slightly. He leaned back to his original position soon after so as not to set off Mary. “I am not interested in you, per se, Lady Crypt. What I am interested in is why my father has done business with your family. I was not sure what my father saw in your family, but I think I see it now—the darkness in your demeanor. You are not much different from me than you would like to think.” He pulled away from her, glancing over at Mary and her drawn pistol.

He was about to walk off when something came to mind that caused him to pause in his steps. Millicent and Sir Kildragon, she still did not know about them, he thought to himself. He let out a low frustrated sigh as he wrestled with whether or not to tell her or just bail out of there. He knew in his heart that it was the right thing to do, but his pride and the coldness of his soul made the decision hard. He stood there enveloped in tension and restless energy for what felt like an eternity, when in reality it was merely a few minutes. He forced himself to just tell her, his voice remotely better than its usual gruffness, “Millicent and Sir Kildragon are alive. Them being unharmed though, I cannot attest to. Millicent was attacked by a Ryne She was left with no mortal wounds fortunately. I beheaded the creature, but I was too late to save one of her sisters. Her stepmother was impaled but was alive and being escorted to the hospital by Sir Kildragon and a couple others when I last saw her. Millicent left with some Earl. That’s all I know.”

Meanwhile, his twin sister Thalcona was left subject to the Grand Duchess Elizaveta’s derision. She raised a brow in response to the noblewoman’s outburst. This was all because Thalcona had the tenacity to explain her brother’s mindset and actions. It wasn’t like she was justifying her brother’s crude behavior, by any means. But it seemed to matter not to the Elizaveta. She was about to leave the room when Vladimir spoke directly to her and began to slowly approach her. Though he spoke in an eloquently reassuring manner, she was skeptical that she could trust him. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked him up and down with a calculative gaze. “I suppose,” she replied to his offer.

---

---

---

---

---

---

Fyror and his brother Leon slowly and solemnly walked alongside each other through the ballroom. They took in the carnage that had been left behind. Fyror made a mental note of how many dead bodies there were, as they would all need to be dealt with accordingly before the night was up to prevent them from rising again as the undead. He let out a disheartened sigh with sadness evident in his noteworthy eyes.

As they skirted the room and neared the Musician’s Gallery, Fyror could hear more voices echoing from the Octagon Anti-chamber. He followed the voices, one of which sounded familiar with her distinctive Russian accent. Leon stayed close behind his brother. Fyror’s gaze quickly took in the room, noting the dead covered up body, the Grand Duchess Elizaveta, and three other strangers, one of which was quickly leaving. But what caught his attention the most, and subsequently sent his hand flying down to the hilt of his sword in an instant, was the large tiger that had taken up residence in the room. His eyes widened and his heart began to beat more rapidly in his chest, but he took up a defensive stance nonetheless.

The thing was that Elizaveta had indeed taken guards with her, two of them. They were not circus but her fathers. Yet they had been told to stand outside and that Elizaveta was fine with Mary at her side. Granted this was not the first time that Elizaveta had dismissed her assigned guards. Thankfully they had kept an eye out on things but kept quiet and in the background, avoiding notice and not stepping in since the Grand Duchess never seemed to be in grave harm. The main carriage that Elizaveta had taken to the event was parked down the cobblestone path a bit and both were standing there keeping a distant eye on the secondary carriage that had brought the others. A slight smirk on one of their faces. Chances were they were the ones that had moved the carriage in the first place when everyone went running in.

Myska yawned deeply, stretching out his front paws and clawing at the area rug a bit before he curled up along the backside of Elizaveta while she sat there in prayer. His tail flicking and resting over her lap as his body gave her a place to rest against and his head lay on his front paws to the other side of her. He watched the room with disinterest it seemed. Just content to be around the girl that had raised him from a cub. He acted more like a lap dog than a 650lb wild animal that was for sure.

Elizavta felt the warmth of his fur through her gowns and grinned slightly as she continued her prayer, trying to lock out the ramblings of the rest around her. She couldn't start the ceremony yet, not until the rest of the ones that had departed had been brought to her but she could prepare herself. It was going to be a long evening. Especially with the two arrivals that seemed bent on blabbing or staring at everyone else. She had not been introduced to them, so she knew not their names and they hadn't been around when she was introduced or name was spoken - so the most they would know is that she had servants and was treated as a higher up that they called Her Grace. Granted her clothing gave away that she was more than just some standard member of the ton but her world and nation was mostly closed off from the rest currently so even her clothing would not give away where she was originally from.

The room where dear Mosi had passed away seemed to be on edge. Her body lay there but the bodies of the dead Soulless were still there as well. Bodies of Soulless that had finally been ended started to deteriorate quickly but these had not. They had not been put through the final death and still could rise, as could another Soulless that lay around the fallen body of Jane out on the balcony. The room still reeked of burning flesh and the smoke was still in the air. Though the birds that had followed Mary earlier had helped clear some of it out, it still stung the eyes if one was not careful and didn't blink for too long.

~pm is being sent to Sigil on what Vlad is able to read~



Cook looked over at Gerard as he took off and sighed. This was not going to go over well, she knew that. Maybe she shouldn't have told him. It really wasn't her place to tell anyone what Millicent had been through but she had been so upset over it that she had let her lips get the better of her and blurted it out to Gerard without thinking. "Oh dear..." she said as she clasped the edge of her apron against her lips and tried to calm herself down.

There was no sound from Millicent's bedroom, at least not for a long moment. Then the door opened slowly and Abigail looked up at Gerard and placed a finger to her lips as if to tell him to be quiet. "Be carefuls whats yous says, though I wonders if shes can even heard yous," she said before opening the door fully.

In the room it was dark, only a few candles lit and Millicent was dressed in a simple off white and flowered walking gown. She was sitting in a chair facing the window where the flowers that Gerard had given her had been sitting earlier in the day. She didn't move, just starting blankly off to nothingness, an empty tea cup sitting on the table next to her. "She ain't said nothing since I returned. She like a doll, will move as I move her but not on her own. It is like she is gone and that is just be a shell," Abigail said quietly. The girl turned and gathered a couple of buckets of water that had been pulled from the tub and moved to take them downstairs so she could get to work emptying the bath fully. "Maybes yous can sits with hers untils I am done. I don'ts wants her to be alone," she said pushing Gerard with her hip towards Millicent before she left the room and headed downstairs.

Millicent didn't even seem to notice that anyone had come or left her room. She just sat there unmoving with her hands on her lap. On one finger was a paltry excuse for a ring, one she had not had one when she left that evening. She barely blinked, if she did at all, it was hard to tell. She had been cleaned up but time had passed. The mark from earlier in the day was no longer covered by the remains of running makeup. It was clear to see and another was spreading out on top of it. Her neck showed the tell tale signs of hand marks forming as bruises, as if someone had tried to strangle her. Though had it not been for the color these marks showed, one might think she no longer drew breath or was a statue. Even her breathing was so shallow that it didn't cause a rise in her chest as she sat there.

---

---

'Ale op.' Constantin thought in his native language as he hopped onto the driver position in the carriage that he arrived in. After everything that happened tonight, it was the best he could do. He was going to complete his duty and drive Myshka and Vlad later the same as they ahd arrived and he was truly glad from the bottom of his heart that this carriage was not stolen. In a nice move of prudence, he checked his sabre once more just in case he's going to need it tonight. Once a soulless showed up, it was bound to happen again. Those people were like sheep... no they were worse than sheep it seemed. He sighed, waiting quietly.

'Vai vill they have that vall if it doesn't protect properly?' He wondered, waiting in his seat. The wall was there, but the soulless showed on the inside... that meant they somehow got in without people realizing it. That usually only happened two ways, soulless found a weak point and sneaked in, which isn't impossible. Soulless were cunning if nothing else or the other option was... someone let them in? Who in their right mind do that though? Constantin didn't really put it beyond the people of London though. After all they weren't the same as the family that was the circus. The citizens 'living' in this place seemed... like pathetic littl... 'Better stop that train of thought for the moment.' He finally concluded, returning ot his pondering of what could have happened if something happened to Elizaveta.

---

---

---

---

Talink. It was just a word to Mary, but obviously one that the impetuous man in front of her thought would carry weight. Maybe it was even a famous name in certain circles of London, but the Hale Clan was native to more northern latitudes. Further, the infamy of the brazen person's surname had not reached her ears during her lengthy time in the Vatican, training with the Holy See and Swiss Guard. No, to Mary this was yet another entitled child of nobility, hoping that the mention of a name a handful of threats would be useful in cowing those they thought lesser than themselves.

She took particular note of the quieter histrionics of Thalken's speech. Mary had heard similar bits of conversation, usually while on assignment someplace rural or in a slummier part of a grand European city. An attempt to intimidate and impress simultaneously. Difficult to pull off in a mixed crowd; most opted for one or the other. It was to be expected from some people, and if Mary's own, very recent experience here at Almack's Assembly Rooms was any indicator, then the broad umbrella of "some people" extended to cover The Ton, and many who obstinately considered themselves noble. Including that disreputable, puffed-up Earl(?) Of Whatever that attempted to relieve Mary of her weapon during the fray. Admittedly, it left an even further displeasing color over the night's events; the hubris of some people who believed the circumstances of their birth gave them moral immunity.

Whatever this man actually was, Mary saw him then as just another lesser nobleman who got an invitation to the Big Nobleman Party and insisted upon pushing his personal agenda upon a good friend of hers during an emotional moment. This upgrade in status was only after she decided that he wasn't another Soulless. But she did hit the nail on the head with her suspicions of having an ulterior motive.

"I must confess to my unfamiliarity with the line of Talink." stated Mary, voice unmoved from its polite, seraphic manner. The firearm remained as it was, even with the rosary swinging lightly back and forth from her wrist, and her eyes held their sharp warrior's gaze. "Though I should hope it is not the custom of your people to prey upon the grieving for personal gain or curiosity. I would advise an act of atonement following an apology for such monumentally crass behavior. If it is truly your wish to help, there are other earthly vessels that require transportation. This person is spoken for." Her eyebrows raised, shifting the contours of her face to resemble a schoolteacher, patiently trying to explain a simple lesson to a child who had failed several times to comprehend it. "Action to the contrary is foolish, especially if one wishes to present one's self favorably." Her eyes narrowed again as she coldly added, "And I do not suffer fools, sir."

Her other hand, still in rear fencer's position, surreptitiously found the hilt of one of her short blades. "The Lady Crypt and I have a labor to finish, if you would be as kind as to excuse us?"

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

Vladimir accepted the permission of the younger Thalcona with the tiniest amount of gracious pause. "Absolyutno. I thank you vor opportunity, madame." The seasoned Master Alexandrov took to the quick and uninvolved task of looking deeply into the her eyes, staring as if witnessing a sight unavailable to others. The parting of a veil into one's very essence, reading fragments of Self as they formed together, not unlike the steady formation of ice crystals. When enough facets found each other, images could be glimpsed. It was the ability to see into this crystalline images and interpret what one found therein with accuracy that gave this legendary ability of the Rusyn Cossacks the reputation it had back in the Empire. Vladimir was a man of experience, but even so, the images were not always clear. Such was the unpredictability of the Chteniye Dushi.

"Pain and darkness, molodoy. Pain and darkness on one side, and you on other side of scale. You are in set ov two, but you know this. Forever you vill be chained to darkness, unless one of set leaves. Or dies." The charismatic Russian had considered giving her the standard, pseudo-clairvoyant brushoff of "Oh, bright future, many kids, happiness in the future, blah blah blah...", but this young woman had honest issues. And he guessed that her earlier behavior was because of a lack of social experience beyond a narrow explanation of how the world operates. But that was not revealed in the vision, merely an assumption based upon something he had witnessed. "Ah, chert... Do not listen to ramble. Maybe if vant, you can help vith ceremony? The Grand Duchess can keep dead from raising as Soulless. Rusyn gift, like Chteniye Dushi. Ve vill need all dead closeby. Unless you have other duty now? Shh, but vith quiet, da?"

---

---

---

---

While Mary was decidedly unfamiliar with the Talinks, Virginia knew some things of note in regard to that family. They had done business with the Crypts at least once, as far as she was aware, and had connotations with death that she found quite fascinating. It struck her even more peculiar how Thalken said that Virginia was not as different from him as she would care to believe. She never thought anything of the sort. To be truthful, she found them to be exactly the same.

Yet the news of Millicent brought a bit of anger to her ice filled eyes. She did not care for the earl that her dear friend had become engaged to, yet the news that Millicent had lost a sister and nearly a stepmother on this evening, only to be whisked away in the company of a member of the ton was decidedly not welcome. Virginia felt quite certain that Millicent must have had a nightmare along those very lines. And while Crypts could thrive in the darkness and draw strength from the horrors, that did not mean that others could be expected to do the same.

The pain that must be devouring Millicent, from the loss of a sister, inspired that anger in Virginia. She would call upon her the very next day, as soon as the sun rose. The grief for the death of her sister would ache and throb, Virginia felt certain. She knew the pain she would feel should James depart from this world would be unbearable. She hoped that it had been Emma that died and not Jane, of course, knowing that Millicent perhaps had a stronger bond with the latter sister.

"You would be wise to heed her words," Virginia said coldly. "I do not doubt that you have familiarity with corpses as well and would be quite qualified to aid with the others who have fallen." And while Virginia did have a natural curiosity about the family who handled some matters for her father and his father before him, now was neither the time nor the place. Mosi continued to rot the longer they stood and spoke with Thalken. There were other bodies in Almack's as well, including the Soulless that had claimed Mosi's life and attempted to claim Virginia's as well. There was business to attend to.

Gerard lightly leaned himself to the door, hearing for any sort of response from Milli on the other room, til Abigail opened the door and gesturing him to be careful with what he was saying. He was uneasily peeking the inside the room, his eyes went back to Abigail as she explained Millie's delicate state. How terrible was it that it left her in this state, numb and still as a statue. Gerard could see her unmoving inside that room. It disturbed him, more than worry, what could have been going on in her head at that very moment? The idea of it made him feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't like he wanted to provoke her though what Cook said shooked him up had him act that way. Nonetheless he took Abigail's heed, asking him to stay with her for awhile. He told her he would, and as Abby left the room, and Gerard went in, he could only hear the cold silence between them.

He walked closer to Milli, closer till he was standing a fair distance from her side. Though she looked adequate now than the first time he saw her, the traces of her physical struggles was still visible. The hand of her assailant was left marked on her delicate neck, and for a moment he felt rage as he took a look at it. What kind of monster could've done this to her? Or to anyone in that matter. As he let his mind withdraw from his face, her thoughts came back to the woman in front of him. And looking at her all he could feel is sadness and sympathy. He knelt down on knee, looking up to her. Though she sat there, still as stone, Gerard made an effort to communicate with her.

"Milli. Can you hear me?" he spoke softly. He waited for a moment, searching her eyes for any sort of movement. Gerard looked down on her hand, on her lap, looking at the ring which it did not belong there. Then Gerard placed his own over hers, a way to comfort her more than anything. If she could not hear him, maybe at least she could feel his presence.

---

---

---

---

As the words regarding the Lady Crypt's friends left his lips, he watched the emotions play out on the woman's pale face. His tilted to the side the slightest bit as he watched her, his intense dark brown eyes meeting her icy blue-grey ones. He saw the anger that his news brought her. Anger. That was the emotion he more expected to see on her face, on the face of a Crypt. Not the emotional pain that he had seen on her features earlier.

But why was he so intrigued with her? he thought to himself as his eyes scanned her bony form up and down, as if he could find the answer there. Maybe it wasn't that simple. Maybe it was something deeper. Perhaps it was that he just did not expect to see a glimpse of humanity on the face of a dark criminal like him. After all, it was a feat that he could not profess to have accomplished himself. He had been taught to filter out emotions like sadness, and joy even, as it would cloud his judgment and act as dead weight. Or so he was told. Thus bitterness and anger was all he really knew and all he exuded.

His gaze returned to Mary as she spoke in that annoyingly calm and somewhat patronizing voice. “Probably for your own good," he muttered in response to her comment that she did not know about his family before his attention returned to the Lady Crypt. However, Mary's next words made his head snap back over to her, his eyes narrowing. Apologize? He cannot recall apologizing for much of anything, but perhaps that was one of the many problems he needed to resolve in his life. His jaw clenched at the notion as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. His gaze went back to the Lady Crypt as she spoke up again, with coldness in her voice that was clearly directed at him. He arched a brow in response before letting out a small resigned sigh. “Sorry," he stated as nice as he could manage in the moment, which really wasn't very nice at all. He then turned away from them and started to walk off.

Meanwhile, Thalcona's brows furrowed as Vladimir stared into her eyes, using the trained gift of Chteniye Dushi to read what he could about her. She was honestly skeptical about the purpose or validity of such a gift, but oh well, whatever. When he finally did speak though, she was shocked to find how much the words hit home. Her eyes widened slightly and her breath came in a bit sharply. For the most part, she hid her surprise and uneasiness well. It wasn't lost on her that her twin brother Thalken had doubts and regrets about the dark lifestyle that they had both been brought up into. With that in mind, the man's words meant more to her than he would know. She absentmindedly nodded her head in response, not quite listening to the rest of what he said. "I need to go find my brother," she stated simply before walking off without another word in typical Talink fashion.

---

---

---

---

---

---

"I-Is that a tiger?" Leon stuttered, looking over at his older brother Fyror with wide eyes. Fyror nodded stiffly in response, though his similarly wide eyes did not dare leave the full grown tiger that occupied the room. His muscles tensed further as the Myshka yawned, revealing those large canines that could flay a man open with ease. And yet after yawning and stretching its paws out, the predator relaxed back against the Grand Duchess as if it was meant to be there after all.

Leon looked at the others in the room dumbfounded. Was no one else seeing this? he thought to himself. Fyror on the other hand did not dare pull his gaze away from the tiger and his hand still rested on the hilt of his sword. He took a few cautious steps forward, not wanting to provoke the beast into attacking but still wanting to get to Elizaveta. She seemed to be at ease with the tiger curled up against her, but that fact hardly put his protective nature at ease.

Elizaveta remained where she was, unmoving during her prayer except to reach out to Myska as he took notice of Fyror coming towards Elizaveta with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The mans advances were not taken kindly by the purrtective feline. Myska letting out a low guttural growl and baring his teeth a bit. The cats tail flicking slightly and thudding against the marble floor with a soft echo. It was a warning of sorts it seemed but as Elizaveta's hand came out and rested against the animal, her fingers running through his fur.

"Myska, неподвижно себе." Her voice calm and unwavering as she spoke. Myska turned his head and looked like he might snap her hand for a moment before it fluttered out and licked the grand duchess's hand. A gentle smile coming to Elizaveta's lips as Myska settled back down. His body curling more around his master and laying his head in her lap heavily as she scratched between his ears lightly. He lay there panting contently, the tip of his tongue hanging out as he watched Fyror.

Most of the ton had cleared out by this time, except those few who were family of those that had departed, still morning the loss of their loved ones. Bodies still needed to be moved and time was growing short. (In other words, let's get a move on peeps. lol Gather those bodies and get them to Veta so we can wrap up the night. You have a clear at this point to move bodies to move time forward. Let's wrap up moving bodies to Veta this round.)



Abigail kept moving from Millicent's room to the kitchen and back to drain the tub of water. It was all she could do for now for her Mistress because it seemed, not even Gerard being there and speaking to her was snapping her out of the living comatose state she was in. She didn't move when he took her hand, her eyes didn't blink when he spoke. A living statue whose eyes were far more hollow than the marble used to carve a figure.

The handmaiden wondered what could have been going through her mind. Part of her hoped her mind was a blank as her expression, that she wasn't reliving what had happened to her that evening. The trauma that Millicent must have gone through made Abigail cringe and she, as the others in the house, was still unaware of Millicent having to watch Catherine's beheading at the hands of Thalken that evening.

Out on the street, a carriage pulled up after a time and Cook opened the door to see who it was since she did not recognize the carriage. Abigail was coming from the kitchen as Emma emerged from the carriage and said a few words to the driver before heading up the stairs. It was probably a good thing that Millicent's window faced the back yard and not the front for even Emma was covered in blood. "Miss Emma, are you alright? What of your mother?" Cook asked as Emma handed over her redicule.

"I... I am fine. Mother is resting at the hospital," she said as she stepped inside and Abigail helped her out of her coat. "I need rest, mother sent me home for the night. Go fetch Millicent, she needs to stay with mother the rest of the evening," Emma said blankly. The girl was hardly fine but she wasn't going to let it show, at least she was trying not to.

"Miss Emma.. About Miss Milli," Abigail said biting her bottom lip.

"What about Millicent?" Emma said, her lips thinning slightly. This was going to be a hard conversation to have.

---

---

'We'd do good to keep a good eye on her from now on least she does another random thing still.' He concluded on his Elizaveta mental debates. She was almost certainly going to eventually go off with little guard again, stubborn as she was to do what she decided and get into trouble yet again. If that happened he was so going to never let her forget that, but for now it was just the almost certain possibility. Maybe he could talk to Vlad to have someone tail her constantly? Or maybe convince her to keep a guard from the circus with her almost at all times. Not that he thought she cannot protect herself, but two heads were always better than one. Besides what if there were multiple soulless? One person was just a tasty meal.

He was quite into his silent pondering to the point it showed on his face, the expression he got whenever he was thinking about important things. Things that were problematic and more often than not it was the fault of Elizaveta with whom he often got to mental arguments with. Well rather than arguments it was more like debates he supposed. Still his right hand didn't leave the sabre and his left the reigns, ready to get going at a moment's notice. A sneaking thought weaseled it's way into his mind again, about the possibility of soulless being led in somehow. It was that or them either climbing or digging their way through that wall.

---

---

---

---

In truth, Mary hadn't actually expected an apology from the man in any fashion. Be it overtly gruff or unconvincing, he did speak the words and then begin to exit the hall. Perhaps the odd man had some ethical merit buried in there someplace, even if it had to be yanked to the forefront by a holy woman with a huge bore pistol. Mary cocked her head to the side slightly and watched Thalken depart. She nodded slowly, giving a little bit of what she took as understanding of the strange man's demeanor. London did produce some odd ducks, the state of their aggression and potential for threat needing to be constantly reassessed. She would keep tabs on this man in the meantime, and resolved to ask into his family's history from third party sources.

The sound of firearm hammers uncocking could be heard as the Apostolic Dame lowered her howdah gun. As it slid back into its American-style holster, she intoned quietly, "Thank you, Brother Talink." It was a polite nothing. Not like she could see this man, seemingly possessed of prideful arrogance, ever donning the Black (to say Church garb, not gothic stylings) or becoming a monk. Her hand relaxed from her weaponry and she bent back down, taking up the legs of the departed Mosi Crane. "The Grand Duchess will be able to ensure her undisturbed and eternal rest, Lady Crypt. Let us get your friend out to her with haste, that Her Grace may apply her talents and I might see to the Soulless before they reanimate."

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

The strange, dark woman Vladimir had just read with his cursory Chteniye Dushi reading had just stepped away with barely a word. Maybe it was something he had said; his demeanor was something of an acquired flavor for some. Not to mention that this was Great Britain - he and his people were not quite as widely known here, nor the abilities of their Rusyn Cossack training. The more likely answer, of course, was that she really just wanted to find her brother. The eccentric Russian with the garnered title of The Great Bazhooli did like to attribute the more dramatic reason to any situation, at least in the telling of any good story. A little flair never hurt anybody. In most cases.

Well, someone had to assist in the reclamation of dead people, which Vladimir assumed was going to be that scary Catholic girl who had mentioned something to that effect earlier, and someone had to give physical presence around Elizaveta to act as bodyguard in this strange, foreign land. I mean, the things they called "pudding"? Monstrous. No, he was going to sit tight and, with the assistance of the massive Siberian cat, make sure that his little Veta remained safe and calm; safe from Soulless and locals, both. Slow steps brought him back to the Grand Duchess as he drew two decently intimidating knives from one of the many places he maintained sharp things on his person, and proceeded to twirl them between his fingers in quick, fluid motions - up and back, down and forward.

He did notice a man elsewhere in the room. He had a damaged eye and gripped the hilt of his sword, and looked hesitant to approach. He smiled broadly at the man, mumbling, "...Вся эта суета над котенком..." and increased the volume of his voice to something more cheerful and understandable, "Come! Come... You vish audience vith Grand Duchess? She rests now, prepares for ritual to cleanse dead from taint of Soulless. Maybe you bring corpse as offering, da? Maybe two? You are big man, can handle two." he nodded vigorously, happy to continue twirling knives throughout the exchange.