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Knees buckling slightly, Ludwigs form seemed to fall like a rag doll for a split second. Back arching one way, head rolling the other, hands coming up as if they were lighter than air. Yet there was really nothing wrong with the man, so to speak, it seemed as if though he had just had the weight of the world come from his shoulders as a look of perplexed relief came over his features of face. "Oh that is wonderful to hear!" he exclaimed with a rather over abundance of joy, a fit flying into the air as he spun around and gave a bouncy half drunken jig. His bag and clothing fanning out around him a bit as he did. Placing a single finger on the top of his own head he smiled innocently and brightly before he suddenly stopped and rushed back over to Vlad, throwing an arm around the man as he took back his invitation.

"Please... just between you and me. I do not do well in front of people. They think I am a little mad. How odd isn't it? Do I look mad? I am far to happy to be mad but yet time and time again people misconstrue this smile for madness. Chumps, all of them. Little pollywomplegligens have settled in their colons, stopping them up. So because they cannot leave the kids at the pond they believe everyone is surly. Preposterous." His voice was of utter disbelief. How could anyone ever believe that he, Ludwig Karl Zimmer, understudy of the great Ulrich Krause Sauer could ever be anything but having an exuberant time, especially when he was traveling and running into different types of trained ones. They had to be mad and trying to pass off their grouchyness onto him. No, he would not let them steal his thunder. He was a Zimmer! And there was nothing in this world that could bring him down. (Or ground his mind.)

Now there were plenty of things that could startle him and throw him off. A goat rushing passed in red could distract anyone and it had him for a minute. Even as Vlad began to speak to him again his eyes were over and lingering on the tent from which he had exited not long ago. Tent, green, dirt, mouth full of dirt. Pale giants. Were they giants? They might be giants. Did they have giants in the circus? Did they have giants in the Graveolase? Grav... Grave... Dirt, dirt again. Worms, slithering through holes. Holes, not whole, white, pale. Lace. White, grave, lace, death. Yes. Death. Death of loved one. Dieter, no not his ferret, his brother.Miss him he did, it made him sad. It made him mad. Was that why people thought he was mad? Because his brother had died?

A blink, or two came from Ludwig before he stopped starring off into the abyss that was his wandering mind and he looked over at Vlad. "Yes, much respect for people. For family. I will respect all I see," Ludwig said in all seriousness and with coherence he rarely possessed. Complete clarity and sanity coming through, understanding in his eyes, and a solemnness on reflecting about his brother no longer being in the world.

As quickly as it had come, it was gone though as he squished up his face, forcing his spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose from the tip, using the index and ring finger of his right hand to aid in the process. "You have smallest nesting doll? Circus with Tiger and goat on them? Tiger eat the goat, goat eat the grass, grass digs in the earth, worm in the earth, center stones. Yes, Nesting eggs, have any?" he asked as he stood there and his mind started wandering once again. Spotting someone handling a small ferret, white with gray markings. He pulled his journal once again from his bag and weaved around the people, walking over and observing. He squatted down like a child about to poke an ant hill. "Oh, oh I know this one, I know this one. This is Polvelitel'," he mentioned as he flipped through the pages of his journal and wrote down a few notes. The entire thing was in German, save certain words which were underlined. On this page it had at the top Vyoz, in the middle Polvelitel', and the words Ykrytiye mertvykh paslen at the bottom.

Resting the journal open on his thighs he reached into his bag and pulled out Dieter. (His ferret, not his brother.) "I can train, see. I know how to train. He does good for me. Dieter say hello," Luwdig said. He was like a child showing off their newest drawing or the fact they had made their bed for the first time without help. The auburn colored animal sniffed the air for a minutes before scurrying out of his hand and up his sleeve, to his shoulder and snaking around the back of Ludwigs neck. The mammals tail flapping against Ludwigs right shoulder as his head rested along the left side of the mans neck watching everyone around. "He's shy but he is might steed! Fiercest of animals, a cobblers worst nightmare he is," Ludwig added as he stroked the red fur of his companion. The man that Ludwig had come over to looked at him as if Ludwig has lost all his rubles. Simply nodding an okay... look and walking away but not before shooting Vlad a look as if to say, "dude, what the fuck?"

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Millicent sat there, her back to the door so that if anyone entered they could not see her features. Yet she did not really bother hiding her face from the single maid which stood there awaiting if anyone needed assistance. There would be no use. Staff rarely ever missed a single detail of what went on within a home even if their employers did constantly. It was little bits of information that kept them employed much of the time in certain households. Either in being able to use the information to be able to keep their position if they were to foul up something along the way or because they had not uttered anything and could be trusted with more sensitive matters. It would mean a far better pay than the year before. Either way, most made it a habit to more skilled in observation than anything they may have been being compensated for, it was the most desired skilled. So why bother hiding what the makeup was not.

Yet it seemed that Millicent would not be alone for long as another came into the room. Her time alone seemed to be over and she found herself reaching up and patting her face dry from the humidity that was still clinging to her skin. Yet the moisture had done its due diligence. Parts of it smearing away even with the most gentle of touches to reveal a deep blue that matched the color of her gown, and black that seemed to be fitting compliment to the darkness of her eyes. The unruly curl of her hair was showing itself as well. Though she had only been there a short while, though she had done nothing but sit, she looked as if she had been put through the wringer for the majority of the day. The sound of silence that she felt within her mind was doing far more damage than the dampness of the Formal Garden had.

A sharp sniffle managed to escape her lips as she stood up, the pain wracking through her core and she wobbled to keep her footing before stumbling over towards the vanity. Pain, bubbly, circumstances all threatened to beat her muscles into submission and refuse to hold her aloft anymore. Yet she persevered, managing to hold herself and steady her form before catching a glimpse of herself for the first time since before she had left for Almacks the night before. It cracked her as her gloved hand came to her lips and she stifled the gasp that came from her vocal chords. "我變成了什麼..." she said in Mandarin before she quickly fumbled for her riticule and with shaky hands began to pull from it several pressed compacts yet she knew not what to do. Abigail had always applied her make up. She had no clue where to start.

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Now that he had some clean clothing on, Constanin moved back to the bed and sat down, trying to think over things. This country was bad news from the moment they set foot in here. There were the soulless who were so obviously arrogant as the other people who hailed from here and walked the streets and even dared to appear so close to the tent city. Then there were the visions of pain he had. Was it really about such a woman? Why would someone stand such experiences in that case? Thinking things through he can think only of one reason... to protect someone else. It was the only thing that made sense to him. He would suffer almost everything to protect those from the circus he considered family. He hoped that was the case cause if she was just a weak person who wouldn't protect herself, she wasn't worth the thinking about in that case.

He rubbed his temples and laid down, his mind wandering to the unknown soulless they had seen earlier. It was new... at least new to him. Maybe it ha ventured from some region out there that wasn't as well known. That could be it. Who knew how many kinds were out there of these abominations. Which on it's own raised a different question. Why would it be here? Were the rules changing? He couldn't see why they wouldn't. Mix things up, new combinations, those who aren't prepared would be victims and they almost fell victims today. Though admittedly that was Veta's fault too for leaving the city alone even be it with Myshka.

“Better return to the festivities...” He eventually mumbled, stood up and headed back to finish his meal.

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The paperwork stated that this man, this Ludwig, was expected by the Graveolase. For the life of him he could not fathom exactly why they wanted to see him; he seemed utterly and incomprehensibly, mind-sharting insane. To believe what few recognizable words he spoke that could be readily translated from Whackadoodle to English to Russian, this man was the representative of an entire group of people with specific Training, dedicated not only to the elimination of Soulless, but to the greater understanding of them. Unless he had books upon books of gibberish. For all Vladimir knew, that might be the case exactly. At the very least, this strange fellow had the mental acuity to understand that he did not do well in front of others. Sadly, he did not seem to know why.

Vladimir did not have time for this. He really didn't. Between an attack of Soulless early in the day (not to mention the attack the previous evening), the state of Elizaveta, the affair with the Sister-Knight, the new business with Lady Crypt and the additional security measures put into place for living and undead threats alike, he had zero time to tend to Sem'ya business, a thing which he greatly needed to confirm with all parties involved. And of course, the reason for the presence of the Circus in London in the first place: The meeting of the Graveolase. Vlad did not expect that they would be meeting so early into the Season, let alone within the boundaries of their wood and canvas homes.

"Mister Ludvig!" he snapped, quickly tucking away his rising irritation at the man as he likely could not control the interesting manner of speech and action any more than Vladimir could stop being The Great Bazhooli. He adjusted his hat upon his head by use of one of his knife handles, tipping the brim back and settling it onto his solid and noble head. "...mister Ludvig. If vould please? Da, ve have many nesting dolls. Intricate and interesting nesting dolls with pictures of little old mothers, or mices, or colorful shapes and designs. Many kinds! Are toys for children, mostly. But nesting dolls vill not help you this night, traveling Prussian man! No!" Vladimir had tucked his knives away over the course of his monologue, and now stood to Ludwig's side, motioning his hand in a graceful arc as if to make the entire landscape an exhibit of the tents reserved for oddities and artwork. Lacking a manner to assist him but understanding that an attempt would be futile, even counterproductive, Vladimir reached into the subtle crazy that he, and all other Great Bazhoolis utilized (to make them truly Great) and decided instead to join him. Perhaps they would find the proper path for him if their emotional languages were a little closer together.

"This is Circus! Russian Imperial Circus, and home of vorld famous Bazhooli Sem'ya! Graveolase meets this very night, under cover of big tent, right there, which vill be announced before is to occur. You vill have little of time to prepare yourself. Have meal! Food is there, pavilion vith cook-fires. Have fine vines; vintages of Motherland and Russian Icevines - but not too much, meeting, da?" He spread his arms wide, rotating in a circle once as if to illuminate everything around them for observation. "Is tiny city, like any in vorld, but run by Barony of Circus, full of life and tradition of Carpathian Rusyn peoples, under structure and support of mighty Russian Empire! The blood and souls of generations, reaching up to us from centuries past! Leading! Guiding! Giving color and strength to iron of our resolve. And you, Mister Ludvig, you get have opportunity to soak all of it in, to record, to make notes, da? Knowledge of a people not seen in London until this day."

Vladimir removed his hat and bowed to the man, giving another, smaller bow to his ferret. "Vith respect to you, and respect to ferret, and respect to new friend of ferret, I invite you to enjoy hospitality of Circus for as long as Graveolase business may last. Place to rest if needed after. But I vill have the questions for you. You are understanding? Vell, you are having my sympathy and my support this night. Respect given for respect. Is vay of Circus. Is vone vay of Circus. Is one we do tonight, anyvay."

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Elizaveta stood there stoically as the Baron entered the tent. He might not have been a boisterous as his son but there was no denying the man was an Alexandrov. There was just a flair that ran deep within the families bloodline. She awaited patiently for him to finish speaking and finally address that he had in fact been called by her to the tent for a meeting. "Family is vhat has caused me to summon you to audience vith us at this time." the Grand Duchess said as she slowly turned around and faced the Baron as he sat at his desk.

"Libations vill have to vait. Vould not do vell for any to smell of vodka at this hour before ve present to the Graveolase." Her brow rising slightly as she spoke, otherwise she seemed to hold perfectly still. It was odd, when she was like this one could barely tell she was drawing a single breath. "Nov on to pressing matters. The Circus needs to be conscripted to take beneath its vings tvo more children. Under royal protection as I have been since I vas a child. The first is Lady Crypts brother, the future Earl, James. The other is the orphan child Adam."

Mary stood respectfully, head bowed slightly to signal her deference to those more centrally involved in the conversation. She had spoken with The Baron for a good, long while earlier; the vast majority of what they had to say to each other had been said. This meeting was called by The Grand Duchess for an important matter with The Baron Alexandrov, of which she had little to contribute, except maybe the support of her presence. Though it would help if she knew what this coming peril entailed.

Baron Alexandrov, on the other hand, looked like he had much to say. Carefully, he set his glass upon his desk and settled into the chair behind it. The nigh-comical, animated posturings of the elder man melted away, replaced with a shrewd glint to his eye and a more assertive voice. He was not a politician nor captain of industry, but one might make the mistake of assuming so by his demeanor. "Ov course, Grand Duchess. The Circus remains a humble retainer of the Russian Peoples as ve alvays have been for generations and generations. This is vithout use of vord: Conscripted. Have never liked this vord. Assumes ordering. Not business, not friendship. Ve are also known for the taking in of displaced and orphaned children. If ve are to train them in the vays of Rusyn, vays of Circus, tradition must be considered. I have been in conference already vith Dame Mary today. Who sponsors future Earl James?"

Virginia set down the glass that the Baron had offered her. While she would not mind to have the scent of vodka on her - she often smelled of chemicals when at the Crypt townhouse due to her scientific experiments - she did not wish to jeopardize the Circus' attempts to gain recognition. While she lacked some of the mannerisms of the Ton, she did not actively attempt to be rude and unpleasant. "James Petrus Crypt, the Viscount Wenwynith, may serve as his own advocate. Yet he has allowed me to act in his place for decisions such as these - as of such, as the interim head of the Crypt family in the absence of Mycroft Abraxas Crypt, the Earl of Dywell, I - along with the Crypt family - sponsor the future earl." While her own middle name may have appeared strange next to the likes of Petrus and Abraxas, Virginia had been named partially after one of her mother's heroes - the English serial killer Margaret Davey.

Elizaveta stood perfectly still as she watched the Baron, her fingers simply laced together before her. It was an eerie habit of hers to stand like a statue, one it seemed many others in her family line had. It grew to a disturbing level when she was in contemplation. It seemed she lost all life to her being when she was thinking. It was a look that her great uncle would know well. While she was loving and full of life around most of the circus, even if a bit understated, the Baron and the Ring Master knew just how ruthless the Grand Duchess could be. "Yet, as you knov perfectly vell, it matters not the ties of blood, money makes it stronger. Othervise I vould not have had the protection I have had as I have grovn, that or the crovn vould not have needed to send so much. Yes, conscripted is the perfect terminology here for this isn't just a request, this isn't just you taking in an orphan, this isn't your niece asking you to help a friend. This is your Grand Duchess placing tvo children in your care that vill be treated as if they were the future Czars. Are ve understood?" Elizaveta said in slow and purposeful tones, a lace of ice sweeping through them that while uncommon was not unheard of from the Grand Duchess. The last time was when someone suggested that Myska would be better off as a rug than a companion.

A stern silence held sway over the tent of the Baron Alexandrov. Mary dared not say a word in the growing tension, seeing as this involved politic beyond her full understanding. The Baron himself appeared stoically holding back a flood of intensity as he tilted his head to one side, perhaps to get a differing angle on Elizaveta as he gazed at her, eyes bright and sharp. Sensing what might become an altercation, Mary quietly swept a foot behind her, one hand drifting toward the hilt of one of her shortswords instinctively, a weapon better suited to their closer quarters.

The Baron slammed his open hand onto the top of his desk, breaking the heavy quiet of the air around them. "HA!" he exclaimed, triumphantly jutting a finger toward Elizaveta. "Those are vords of future Czarina of Russian Empire! His mannerisms became confidently calm. The Baron leaned back in his chair and opened a drawer, and began to rummage through papers therein. His voice became more brooding, even thoughtful. "Is important, da? I know you, Grand Duchess. Ve are not stupid peoples, you and I." He gave a knowing look, as if he suspected more than he was letting on. The Baron lay three identical papers written in Cyrillic alphabet onto the smooth, polished wood in front of him. "Very much like contract I signed vith your father. As future Czars, like you say. I shall place them both... vith Sem'ya Bazhooli. The people of our people. They vill be as sons." Still facing the Grand Duchess, his eyes darted to Mary first, then Virginia. "Ve may cross blades vone day, Sister-Knight. Indeed, I vould consider it honor; a show to speak about for generations to come! Is not today. I need papers signed by Grand Duchess, Lady Crypt, and vitnessed by Arch Graveolase." He nudged a jar of ink with a quill pen standing tall from its mouth toward the papers and stepped back. "Three of you are formidable. I vould hate to be your enemies tonight."

Throughout the tense exchange between the Baron and the Grand Duchess, Virginia had remained silent, preferring to observe. She was filled with an emotion akin to pride at Elizaveta's formidable words. It was not often that she heard a woman speak her mind so clearly in London society - certainly not one that she had not already been well acquainted with. While she found some of the Baron's words to be empty attempts at saving face when so squarely beaten in verbal swordplay, his final phrase did ring true - the three women in the tent were formidable.

"I do not place my signature on documents that I have not read in full," Virginia said, as she glanced down at the paper. She could not read nor understand the words on the page. Anything could have been written there and while she had no explicit reason to distrust the Baron, she also had no reason to abandon such a principle. "If a copy may be procured in Arre-Catte Waho or English, or perhaps a translation offered verbally, then I may sign these papers."

Elizaveta rose a brow as she stepped over and looked down the bridge of her nose towards the papers. Reaching out with a gloved hand she lightly touched them with the silk and then her eyes drifted up towards the Baron before she locked eyes with him. "The lady speaks vell, these vill not do. Nor vill it do for a mere verbal translation for ve could be told anything and if one does not speak the language they could still be signing their life avay. Take these to Sister Sophia to translate promptly. Ve vill conclude after the presentation to the Graveolase." Her words were ever on air as she spoke before turning away and heading towards the doorway of the tent. At that time the Lady Crypt vill be free to read vhile the council is on conclave for the decision."

"Indeed." said The Baron graciously, carefully gathering the papers back up. He was not overly fond of being spoken down to by anyone, not in his Circus and most especially not in his own tent after being summoned for, as it was described to him, important business. He had to admit that the language barrier was an issue, one that had rarely crept up before but was understandably important here in London. Still, the percieved lack of respect given to him overall, even by a Grand Duchess, could be largely forgotten and overcome by the continued support of the Crown during these uncertain times. Whatever was best for his people.

Meanwhile, Mary offered what little gesture was appropriate to the situation while still maintaining her outward position of being in Veta's corner. She gave a serene smile, curtsied with a polite, "Baron Alexandrov", and exited the tent behind Elizaveta.

Virginia nodded curtly - she was used to doing business transactions on behalf of her father ever since he and her mother departed on their voyage. Someone had to tend to the Crypt family investments and more often than not, it meant having to deal with disrespect. There were those who saw her as nothing more than her gender - and while she did not believe that to be the case with the Baron, a perception of decency on his part by no means meant a change of behavior on hers. She would treat this contract in the same manner that she treated all contracts she was asked to sign. "I look forward to reading those papers, Baron Alexandrov," Virginia said, before exiting the tent as well.

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As Colette fixed herself up, she heard someone speak a different language. It sounded almost familiar, but Colette couldn't place it. She turned her head and spotted the woman sitting there. Her sniffles could be heard across the room and she seemed to be struggling. The attendant seemed to either not notice or was not doing her job (she would have to check later).

Colette didn't want to meddle in other's affairs, but she felt obligated to help someone (especially a woman) in need. She checked herself again before she spun around and glided over to Millicent.

The woman spoke another language, but she hoped she understood English. Colette had been practicing and hoped she would be able to communicate with the lady. "Pardon me, mademoiselle. I couldn't help but hear you from over there. Are you all right?" Colette looked the woman over. She was dressed very well. Colette assumed she was of a higher station then, which meant the woman's troubles were one she most likely shared. Colette noticed the woman was struggling with her compact. Colette smiled and sat down next to her, "A woman's struggle, yes? Do you need help? I've done makeup before, but I am no expert, of course."

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Constanin was about just outside the tent of his family when his mother of all people showed up, nearly bumping into him. He was naturally confused about her presence here, especially with the fact the whole circus was gathered there, but it seemed plans had changed. He was rather quickly informed that the Graveolase presentation was going to be happening. It suddenly dawned on him that was the case indeed, given the Veta's incident from earlier... It made sense.

“Vell.. I'm out of proper uniforms for this...” He replied, explaining his own little set of annoying events that transpired with certain tiger and german man whom he had not forgotten. In the end his mother pulled a sewing set and quickly stitched the old shirt so the hole wasn't showing open and he put it on.” I vill be by the main tent, mother. Vhen ve vill perfom, I vill give it my all, as usual.” He smiled as she walked away, he quickly following her and towards the back of the main tent.

“I really hope nothing else happens tonight...” He mumbled when he arrived at the place. If they were to be performing for the Graveolase, it meant they had to put their all into this performance as to not throw dirt on the name of the circus.

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Thalken stood there for a moment glaring out at the silent night sky. This day was just getting better and better. It couldn't possibly get any worse, could it? Yeah, it probably could. After all, the true trials laid just ahead of him. He had to face the Lady Crypt and answer for his father's crimes. And yet, Thalken knew darn well that he himself also had a lot to answer for. His hands were far from clean, and those trespasses weighed heavily on his heart. The guilt was becoming almost too much to bear. His spirit was most certainly weary from the burden.

He let out a sigh and turned his intense dark eyed gaze to the broken carriage. It didn't take much thought on his part to realize that it would be a waste of precious time to wait for the wheel to be fixed. He absentmindedly twirled the knife in his hand and marched off without a word. He would just travel the rest of the way to his destination on foot. He knew the layout of the city well enough to find his way even in the dark. Well, at least he did when his mind was working properly. Perhaps his mind was at its breaking point because he traveled some distance before he realized he was passing Devonshire Terrace again.

He stopped midstride, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment before it finally dawned on him that he had gone the entirely opposite direction of where he needed to go. God dammit. He let out a loud, over exaggerated huff of frustration before he spun on his heels and went back the way he had come. He glared at his surroundings as he trudged along broodingly.

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Little dolls, big dolls, many dolls. All lined up. Where they jumping on the bed? Would one fall down and bump their head. No, they nested, nesting together in a line, one fills the other and back again. All warm and the largest protects the smaller, the smaller protects the tiny, the tiny protects the tinier, until the smallest and most vulnerable is held within and nested within. So many barriers between it and harm. Generations upon generations stood around the youngest to ensure that nothing could harm it until it was the older, until it was stronger, until it could protect the newest to come along. His eyes blinked that rare moment of clarity and Ludwig spoke as from his pocket he picked a watch and a click to open it. Within held a sketch of a young man. "Not to help me. To help Dieter, my brother not my ferret," he said as his fingers slowly ran over the hand drawn image that was well worn within the silver beaten covering. "Nothing harms him now he lays surrounded by earth and wood but he was the outer doll once. He needs new dolls now, know I'm stronger and it's okay he is no longer the biggest doll of the family." The sanity that was half there slipped away as his eyes drifted from face to face, from picture to picture.

Tick tock, there was no mouse to run up the clock. Just the ferret which roamed and rummaged through the bag from time to time. Yet he was perched on his shoulder.

Tick tock, tick tock. Arms reaching trying to grab the time, to stop it in its place as it spun on the face and yet it never stopped. The time kept marching on even though time was only an illusion, lunch time doubly so. It was a good thing it was not lunch but perhaps it could be dinner time for he was hungry. His stomach was empty. He had beans but beans were not to be eaten, they were to be kissed. Kisses could wait, they had to wait. For what? The Graveolase that was what.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, he was late. He was late. "I'm late for a very important date," he said as his knee buckled and he looked once again like a rag doll about to drop before catching himself on imaginary strings held from the stars above. "Learn Circus later, many questions. I want to know what this Bazhooli is, sounds fascinating. Not as wondrous as the Bella but hardly any are. So dark, cannot wait to see her again. Quiet, still. Very still. Like death."

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. He closed the watch. It was time to move for he has things to do and to study and to learn and to teach.. Yes. Teach. That was something else. Later, not now. Now show. Time to show. He spun on his heels once, twice, thrice and then he moved towards the large tent that Vlad had mentioned. "Yes, this way. Smells, foods. Come Dieter, we show the greatest which we know and then they will stop saying I am mad. Yes, I will show them joy," he said as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them together before entering the main tent and glancing around. Spotting the Graveolase being seated he waved with all the life in him and smiled widely.

"Oh shit... The German is back..." a woman said as her lips pursed in her thick Caribbean accent as she took a seat. It was Christine Del'ataunt. The head of the West Indies representation, and Graveolase of such.

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What had happened to her? Where was she now? No, Millicent was not losing her mind as another obviously had so many miles away. It was more of an existential crisis right then. She knew logically exactly what had happened to her body and precisely where she stood at that moment. Yet the larger picture in a more metaphorical sense was a difficult thing for her to grasp. Miss Wyndham had always been daring, out spoken, solid in her presentation of herself to the world. While she had bowed from time to time to the wants of the ton she had never lost what made her what and who she was. To be assured she was rather cynical in nature she was still a caring person who strove for the best in herself and demanded it of others. Yet right then whatever was of that once vain and witty young woman seemed to be literally beaten out of her. It was difficult for her to wrap her own mind around it, feeling as if she was watching someone else taking over her body and her ways as her head turned towards the voice of another as she was spoken to.

She was trembling and she could barely nod her head as the woman before her offered to give her a hand. It was the first piece of kindness she had had since she was forced out of London. That may have occurred just the night before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Her hands, shaking, held out what little make up she carried towards Colette. "Please... help..." she eventually managed to squeak out from her lips as she nearly dropped the small compact in her hand. Was she asking for help with her make up or more? It wasn't clear. What was clear as the tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks was that she had been hurt in many ways. The make up was washing off with each tear that fell and the dark blue and greens were showing themselves from beneath the make up more and more.

It was apparent from the makeup as well as the clothing that she was trying to hide the damage. Her gloves rose higher on her arms that was fit for the season. The cut of her gown was less revealing. Her hair was let to be more free around her neck than pulled up to show the length of it. The colors she wore were more mute than the seasons latest fashions, even more muted than normal for her. Everything spoke of a woman that was trying to hide in the shadows and not draw attention to herself. To hide the pain and the wounds both on her skin and far below. Yet her eyes couldn't hide the utter desperation that was coursing through her veins right then nor would her body stop trembling as if she had been dropped into an icy lake and left to die. Death at that moment would have been a true release.

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As strange as it might seem, The Great Bazhooli was beginning to understand the cut of this man's gibberish. Oh, he was crazy. No doubt about that. But he did reveal a few things about himself that provided otherwise inaccessible insight. This "Ludwig" character was a protector once. If not protector, then someone to translate the world to him and his antics to the rest of the world. This is what a man looked like when he was alone in a foreign land with the barest knowledge of the local language. Metaphorically, or course. He seemed to have a more or less fluent grasp of English; probably better than Vladimir did himself.

The minor missteps of language were an important part of character for him, though. It made him seem more worldly, more exotic to almost everyone outside of the Russian Empire, and even a good number of more urban types within. Vladimir's foreign accent and diction, paired with his regal bearing and mannerisms established his background, as eclectic as it was: Carpathian Rusyn, Cossack, Gypsy, Noble... Warrior. Performer. Protector. A character. An assortment of personality traits and gimmicks, backed by hurled steel. Ah, perhaps he really could speak foreign languages better than he let on. Speaking flatly was entirely without panache.

Luckily, the German fellow found cause to leave his immediate environs. Vladimir set his mind black on the task of returning to his people and getting the show underway for the Graveolase. He had been away for too long. With determined strides, he marched in the same general direction as Ludwig, but took a wider path and quickly found himself at the back of the tent. There were members of the Bazhooli Sem'ya; his cousins, nieces and nephews, and a couple of people close to them who were willing to shore up their numbers for the proper execution of the Grand Mamushka. The dance had not been seen outside of the clan for a long while. Vlad wanted to make sure his people were comfortable, relaxed, and confident. They had practiced their exact routine for the two months it took to travel the overland route from Moldova to England, and performed it many times even before that.

Vladimir located his Sem'ya exactly where they were supposed to be, behind the main tent near a performer's entrance, waiting with nervous tension in the air. They had several things with them for the show, as well. Oil and torches in stands, ready to light things ablaze at the first instance of The Great Bazhooli uttering his performing catchphrase of "Now, let us try the same trick... ON FIRE!!!", racks full of blades of various shapes and sizes, and targets, targets, targets, among a plethora of other things. His son, Konstantin, walked reverently up to the older man with a great mass of fur and a wrapped bundle. The pile of folded, fuzzy hide was one of Vladimir's favorite performance pieces - a great, grey-brown coat made of thick and lustrous bear fur. He pulled it around himself, selected a gentleman's cane and a sabre for a good entrance, and adjusted his tall hat upon his head.

"I am seeing that you are very nervous, da? Vell, do not be. I am proud of each and every one ov us all; I vill alvays be proud of us. No matter vhat happens tonight, ve vill still Mamushka. Ve vill still fight, still defend our peoples from the Soulless. Ve are Bazhooli, every and each one ov us! Do not submit! Ve shall conquer! Ve shall rise!" Vladimir stepped upon a conveniently placed box to continue addressing his people. He took off his hat and held both it, and the cane out to his sides. "I am Great Bazhooli! And I have seen evil. I have seen horror. I have seen unholy maggots, vhich feast upon dark recess of human soul!" Unfortunately, Vlad took the opportunity to deviate from the speech to better suit his audience: "Ve all have. Ve know vhat bumps in night; and ve bump back. Hard. No matter vhat happens tonight, this vill not change. You are family. I am so proud ov you. Ve know vhat must be done. Let us go in, heads held high, and show these Graveolase that ve deserve same respect. Deserve voice at table."

"Just go in. Be fierce, be talented. Be yourselves. Everything, everything, vork out as should."

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Colette considered herself a somewhat perceptive individual. It paid when dealing with people as you were able to tailor the conversation to your benefit. Her brother was an expert at doing that. Far better than her. He could charm anyone, especially the ladies. Though he never expressed interest in any of the women he was able to woo. He often said it was more the thrill of it than actually finding a prospective wife. That always irked her. While she was forced into an arranged deal, her brother had, more or less, some freedom to choose a bride.

Back to the matter at hand, Colette took the woman's compact from her hand, before the woman nearly dropped it. Colette was sure that this was more than just struggling with makeup. Colette could see the tears fall. The gloves rolled up far past what would be in season. The woman was showing less skin than what was fashionable. The colors. Her hair. Colette could make her own assessments from it. Did this have to do with the attack?

Colette sat down next to the woman and gently wiped the tears that fell from her eyes with her gloved hands. No need to further mess up her face. "Certainly. This will be no trouble at all." Colette opened the compact, gently applying some as she worked on the woman's face. There was more that needed to be fixed, but it wasn't her place to tell the woman about her style. "This will not take long, I think. Your face is naturally beautiful. It does not need much makeup." Colette wanted desperately to ask more about why this woman was taking great strides to hide. Hide her skin, her face, herself in this washroom.

"I do not know what has occurred, but I hope all is well." Colette wouldn't push if the woman didn't want to talk, but hopefully if she did this would show Colette was ready to listen. Often times a shoulder to cry on helped. She continued to help the woman with her face, knowing this was a kindness she was sure she could offer.

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The irritation at his mindless slipup was relatively short-lived as weariness and anxiety etched way at Thalken. He found it surprisingly difficult to walk on foot to the Tent City. It wasn't that it was physically demanding by any means. After all, he was plenty fit to take the trek. It wasn't that at all. It was just walking there by himself and of his own volition made the whole situation feel that much more concrete. A carriage could take him wherever the driver pleased, but to walk there, he was then actively making the decision to go to what in the moment felt like the lion's den. Every survival instinct in him told him to run the opposite direction, to take a less perilous path. But no, he would take the path that most likely would seal his fate.

Thalken used every ounce of will power he had to trek onward for the Tent City. It was time he stopped dwelling in the pain and sins of his past and start creating a new future for himself, whatever form it may come in. Anything was better than being a pawn in his father's nefarious games. Arrest him. Beat him. Break him. Kill him. Do whatever you wished. He deserved it all. He was doing this to redeem himself, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He made quick work traveling on foot, and soon enough he verged upon the edge of the Tent City. He stopped then, and his dark eyed gaze took in the place with a look of dreaded intensity. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep shuttering breath. After a few moments, he slowly opened his eyes again, and his hands shook slightly as he sheathed the throwing knife he still clutched in his hands like it was a lifeline. He wouldn't be needing it. This wasn't a fight he could win. He then marched onward, his expression purposefully as blank as he could manage.

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This was where Elizaveta differed from my reigning and soon to be rulers. She was neutral, towards all, when it came to negotiations and business matters. It did not matter if she was dealing with her closest confidant or a mortal enemy. They were all addressed and viewed at with the same level of indifference. This made her come off as cold and insulting to some but she did not bother with it. It was how she was, how she conducted herself, and it saved her many issues that were of far greater concern than someones ego. Yet, once Mary and Virginia had left the tent the Grand Duchess did take a glance back to the Baron. "₁Дякуву дуже красно," she mouthed in the Circus' skill set of Rusyn.

Stepping out of the tent she caught up with Mary and Virginia for just a brief moment. "This is vhere ve must separate for nov. The ring master is over by the main tent, please go to him, he will seat you with the visitors. I must join Circus and finalize preparations. I vill see you again at shov time," she said in a soft voice before making a turn and heading towards the back of the main tent where the rest would be preparing and finalizing for the show. They had been working for months on this and Elizaveta hoped that everything would fall into place.

"Of course, Your Grace. We all have our duties tonight. Thank you." While truly grateful to Veta, endeavors of the evening seemed an exercise in politics to Mary. The concept seemed to be everywhere anymore, politics. Slowing down what needed to be done in haste. Pouring more talk into circumstances that required action. Placing those who merely pursued gain over those who actually needed. She did not like politics, but she had to wade through the muck of it, if just for a while longer. The position was hers primarily because she did not want someone with selfish desires occupying it; not when humanity was so close to toppling off of the edge. Of course, it didn't mean that she couldn't do some actual good with the opportunity.

"Lady Crypt, I do not know what will transpire with this meeting, nor do I know what my responsibilities are. Nor even the extent to my authority with these people. But I have been in the presence of the Papal Court on many occasions. I know those who would speak to His Holiness or the Cardinals for their own purposes must first have a purpose. If I may ask your advice? I need to approach these people with a platform."

It struck Virginia as a bit odd for Elizaveta to leave so quickly. She seemed to have had a vision of great catastrophe and had indicated that they'd receive an explanation. When they hurried to the Baron's tent, she had imagined it would be given then. Yet with the contractual matters dealt with and Elizaveta retreating to the business of the circus, was the supposed calamity still of great importance? She had little time to ask the Grand Duchess what had caused her such distress earlier before Mary had bade Elizaveta farewell and the young future ruler had headed towards the back of the main tent.

Virginia paused for a moment, refocusing her thoughts on the task at hand. "Of course you may ask my advice, Commander Hale," Virginia said. "Yet Commander Hale, for as long as I have known you, you have never been without purpose. I have no doubt that you already have some platform in mind. Whatever agenda you decide to advance on this evening in your new position, it should be one that rings true to you and your spirit. It is perhaps a bit of a strange notion in our society, yet one that my family holds dear when it comes to negotiations and business dealings."

Mary nodded in quiet approval of her words, marvelling (and not for the first time) over the circumstances of their meeting. Virginia was a strange one, of this there could he no doubt; an anomaly in the greater scene of London. The same might be said of Mary as well. Regardless, she gave the pale Lady's words respect and consideration as she continued.

"Yet I also sense that more specific and guided advice could be warranted," Virginia said with a soft, almost sleepy smile. She sometimes had the appearance of a sleepwalker to her. "With the attacks at Almack's, it is the time for action. The Russian skills likely merit their admission to the council, yet I am perhaps biased. They have a strength that could do well to increase the capabilities of those currently trained and allow us to better rise to the challenge of the Soulless. There's no reason why we should be denying knowledge of other skills and lands...Yet normals do behave quite strangely. I must confess I do not always understand their motivations."

"Nor I. Though I fear that, for the purposes of this conversation I am indeed one of these 'normals', I do not understand the benefit of exclusion. I must admit, the thought did occur to seek out others like the Circus, regardless of the collective will of the Graveolase. The greater good is more important than an organization of Men." The words shocked Mary as they spilled from her lips. Was this how she truly felt, beyond obligations to the Church? Would she feel the same way about the Vatican, if a similar edict was passed down by the Papal Court? Her philosophy, as reinforced by the words of the reigning Pope Pius VII, was that God came first, the Church second. He was considered very progressive, however, the proof of which being Mary's position which was, much like Virginia, something of an anomaly; possible, but unlikely. Perhaps he knew that one day, bold, new ideas would be needed from the upcoming generation of the faithful.

"I have only the barest of ideas, Lady Crypt. Unorganized at best. And they will be considered radical. I do not believe they will be received well without incentive." Mary's face darkened and she gripped her halberd tighter, "Or strenuous convincing."

Virginia gave Mary a quizzical impression. "Mary," Virginia began, intentionally using her friend's first name rather than her title, etiquette be damned. "You are not a normal by any means. Do you bathe in pastels and bear the name of Deborah? Do you run from the monsters that lurk in the shadows or do you greet them gladly on a level playing field?" She held unwavering eye contact with the Dame Commander. The notion that the knight imagined she was one of the sad members of the Ton was alarming to Virginia. Mary was not a normal - and had Millicent been present, she would have assured Millicent as well that she belonged to the abnormal. All wonderful people were the exact opposite of normal.

Mary could not help but smile. Not the quiet, serene smile that she had trained herself to adopt as necessary, but a youthful, bright smile that parted her lips, showing a hint of porcelain white beneath. For all of Virginia's peculiarities, she was a good and decent friend, and her words put Mary at ease. She quietly mouthed the words "Thank you." as not to interrupt her speech.

"And if such a radical idea is one that appeals to you, pursue it. There is no point in living and serving a cause you do not believe in," Virginia advised. "If you cannot stake your life and feel content should Lady Death knock thrice on the door, then it is not worthy of your time. I have the utmost confidence in you, Mary - not in the Graveolase or the Church or any other such institution," she then smiled at her friend softly. Throughout the course of their conversation, they had walked towards the ringmaster near the main tent. "Are you ready to meet the normals, Dame Commander?"

"Indeed I am, Lady Crypt." remarked Mary, keeping it simple. An aura of increased confidence could be noticed from the young Apostolic, a quickening of her pace combined with eager eyes. She used her halberd as a walking staff and let her white robe flow about her, parted to show the more martial tools of her trade. Upon reaching Viktor, the Ringmaster and manager of the Russian Imperial Circus, he waved them quiet and spoke to them in barely audible whisper. "Plan is different. Graveolase meeting does not call for introduction of dramatic grandeur. More is pity. Come, I vill show you to seats, then must return to Bazhoolis."

Quietly (a rarity for these people, usually) Viktor ushered the two women to where they would be seated for the meeting. "Lady Crypt, is pleasure. Sister-Knight, you deserve to be here. Remember this, da?" The words were short and to the point, and immediately afterwards The Ringmaster jogged his way back to the Bazhooli Sem'ya, to get the last minute preparations handled.

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Everything was rather well the usual for the circus anyhow. They were preparing to perform for the Graveolase who just happened to be the current spectators. Viewing it this way made Constantin feel a lot calmer about the performance. He had gathered up with his parents as they were discussing final preparations about their act.

He threw a look at the main tent where the performance was going to go down soon. His family had already prepared the set up for the embers. Were already dressed for performing even if Constantin had to improvise with his get up because of a tiger and a crazy German.

“Ve ready?” He asked his parents when Vlad had finished his little speech. He received the replies in the form of two hands patting him reassuringly on the shoulders and nodded. Yeah this was going to have to be big. He threw a final look about, and quickly went to take of his shoes. One did not dance on embers with shoes on! After all it was the best way to destroy a pair of shoes!

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The full contingency of the Graveolase Council was not present. Several were missing. Yes, missing. Milk cartons would one day hold their images. That of the Scotslady Kirkpatrick. A cane she had taken to his shin last time he presented but he did not care. He jumped and played it off. Very well. It was supposed to happen. Luck of the Irish had rubbed off on him that day, all bad luck. Ledbetter was not present either but that was fine with him. The man stunk to high heaven and always carried on an air that he was better than the German because he was of French decent. The fact he was not there to represent the Colonies more than made Ludwigs evenings. Yes, no French, no bread, no baguette, no hau hau hau. The Pope was not there, mores the pity for the man had wonderful hats, great hats. Large hats! Yes, hats, very stunning! And while Rome he could take or leave they were better than the French.

Yet, there were faces he knew, faces he knew well. Faces in front of him that he had seen before. Salih Al-Iman sat there, all the way from Jerusalem. He had at least said a kind word or two towards him the last gathering. Yes, very nice. He had said that Ludwig was beyond comprehension. Yes, very nice words. Christine on the other hand had not. She had used that word, mad, to speak about Ludwig. Well her head wraps were silly. Who needed that much cloth on their head in the heat? She had melted her brains not to know true wonder when she spotted it. Patooty on her, she was a Bettnassen Seiche Eimer! Dah, she was indeed. A Large, over flowing and spilling out on those around her Bettnassen Sieche Eimer!

"Oh he just lives in life, let him enjoy the madness. He faces fear, you run from it and it will not buy you a moment longer on this earth," Bjorn said towards Christine as she eyed Ludwig. She wished to cut him down with a flick of her wrist, is was in her eyes but Bjorn smiled brightly and waved back. Yes, Bjorn understood Ludwig. He backed him. He was happy, he understood joy and he never called Ludwig mad. In fact he defended Ludwig stating that if Ludwig was mad then so was he and everyone knew Bjorn, the Graveolase representation from Scandinavia was anything but mad. He was Bjorn the Joyous! And he too was beyond comprehension.

"Perhaps there is some German in you," Guang Ji said with a smirk on his lips as he watched Ludwig. Wave, yes wave. He kept waving with each step he took towards the council. China was large, many skilled warriors came from China. He had to impress Guang.

"Say what you will, I would not mind some of that German in me, even if only for the night," Akechi Lee Ko said as she rose and gave a welcoming nod towards Ludwig. Her lips looked like they had been stung by a bee but Ludwig wasn't one to judge. He did appear to have wrestled with Zehreenach much of the time. She must always be right out of a the battle of the bees. She was kind though, always smiling at him and playing with his hair. She must have been alone for she didn't get away from the Island nation much. Training the Japanese must have taken a lot in all those layers of robes they wore and those large legged pants.

The ones that were there, all were watching him until they weren't and then they were looking at a girl. Red hair, fire, she was on fire! Yes, fire! Good fire, not bad fire. Growing fire, to burning fire. No burns, bad. Didn't they have ones that burned their feet? Coals, yes, black coals, fire coals. Embers, enter. Yes time to enter! That must have been the new Arch Graveolase! "You! YOU! Yes! Oh! Hey! Hello! Greetings! Salutations! No, I must speak with her! I am presenting!" Ludwig yelled as two of the circus tried to keep him back from the booth. "Hands off. I am not mad, not yet!" he said flipping his arms around as if he was about to be stung by bees. They were bees. He did not want the same lips as Lee Ko, he didn't have the cheek bones for it.

"Right, you go no'v. Ve do not need distraction," one of the men said but Ludwig would have none of it. None of it. Nope. He was presenting and as their hands landed on him, Dieter jumped off his shoulder. His ferret, not his brother. And bip! Yes, Bippity boppity, BOO! Down he went into three inches high and fluttering his wingers around as he kicked one in the nose.

"Dare you anger the great Ludwig and his mighty steed! Hands off I said!" he added as he swung his butt around in the air and let his wings hit the mans nose a few times. Dieter, the ferret not the brother, scurried up the mans legs and up to his shoulder. To which Ludwig would take advantage of and mount his mighty steed. "To the Graveolase! Let us show them who is not mad!" he cackled and laughed as he grabbed hand fulls of fur and reared his mighty steed on his back paws before leaping off and to the ground.

"Not again..." Christine muttered before turning her attention over towards Mary and smiled. "I am Christine Del'ataunt of the West Indies delegation. Wonderful to meet you Arch Graveolase Sister Hale. We received word of your appointment last evening," Christine said introducing herself. "Pay him no mind, just another wish they were a true delegation wishing entry to the council."

"He has as much right to be here at the table as you do. It is in his blood," Bjorn said and them smiled at Mary. "Hiya Arche, Bjorn the Joyous! Scandinavia. Hope you don't mind, one god might be enough for you but I am in need of many," he said lightly. He was actually not even looking at her anymore but his head was back watching Ludwig.

Weaving in and out between the legs of others trying to stop him and yet no one could stop him and his mighty steed. NO one could. They were a team he and Dieter. His ferret, not his brother. "Yes, faster! That is how you move! Fierce ferret!" he called out just before a basket was tossed over his head. They were trapped! Oh no! Trapped beneath the wicker! Wicked wicker! Cased. No! "Bettnassen Sieche Eimer!" he called out as he climbed off his ferret. A blink, a sneeze, and a boom and that cage was now a hat on his head and he was grinning ear to ear as he popped it off his head, licked his lips, shoved it on one of the mens heads whom was trying to catch him. Dieter darting off towards the Graveolase and then it really began.

Step to the left, a jump to the right, his hands on his hips, yes. Time to dance. To Go! Yes, flip, basket on the head, off the head, around and behind the man. Pull the pants up, giggle, slid between his legs, make him fall. On the ground with one. Up the pole, spin around. Singing in the rain. No sing, dance, move. Yes boot to the butt, and one flew with head into another basket. Wicked wicker was not helpful helmets. And Ludwig was not mad, he was glad! Joyful! "Hi Bjorn!" he said as he waves happily, stopping everything and waving. Yes, wave at the joyous man. He waved back! Wait, hand on wrist. Can't have that. Third one had to go down but out of helpful helmets. Time for something new. He needed one more basket.

A jump, a spin, behind him, hand free. Book was out, no. Not book on ways of the trained. This was a journal. A quill. Quib to tongue, wet, and sketch, sketch, sketch as he darted and was being chased. A ferret watching from a Vikings shoulder. This was a hell of a show if Ludwig could say so but he couldn't see himself. Yet others could and Lee Ko was laughing, not at Ludwig but at the others chasing him. "He does know how to make himself known," she said as he made it up to the top of a stack of hay and was still drawing. "Oh shit... what... Whew, that could have been worse," she said as a ring of steel slipped out from behind the stack of hay and tripped up the third man only to have his head fall into a third previously not there helpful helmet of wicked wicker.

"Last time it was a hornets next..." Bjorn laughed.

"It was not funny!" Guang protested as he reflexively rubbed his rear end.

Now that three, count them three had run up and down the clock, it was tick tock time as he dashed and flipped and then rushed over to where the council were. "Sorry, was held up. Yes, Hello! Greetings! Mary Mary, very contrary. No monster have you created, and I am no Prometheus. I am Ludwig! Please, let me show you what my people can do. See!" he said as he shoved his journal and quill back into his bag and pulled out a single bean. He was putting everything into the bean. They had to see how wondrous his people were and a bean was magic. Magic beans.

Watch!" he said as he kissed the bean and then tossed it towards the tank of water. No one tried to stop him, he was just tossing a bean at this point and the three which had been after him were now just finally starting to remove the helpful helmets of wicked wicker. It hit the diving tank and turned everything to ice. "See, tada!" he said triumphantly as he stood there and was suddenly tackled to the ground with an umph.

"Let him go, we were aware he would be attending," Lee Ko said and narrowed her eyes.

A mouth full of dirt and a spat but Ludiwg was not fighting as he looked up and spotted Virginia. "An alabaster Bella.." he said quietly. So white, yet so still. The eyes, caught him and then more features. Yes, a white bella. Not dark and in the shadows. White, truly white. "Weisse Frauen..."

How long had it taken him from spotting the Graveolase to ending up on the floor gawking at Virginia? Time was an illusion but by the watch, that entire incident had taken all of two minutes and forty five seconds...

At the gate to the tent city, Thalken was greeted much more warmly than Ludwig had been just then for he only had two guards at the gate and they were not trying to tackle him to the ground. "No entry, closed shov tonight," one of the guards said plainly. They were not menacing as they stood there just doing their job. Keep anyone and everyone out. "Come tomorrow, full show."

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There was a compliment in the womans words but Millicent could not hear it right then. She stood there, frozen still as if she was made of ice. Afraid to move, or perhaps just unable. She had seen herself in the mirror. She knew she was not a beauty even without the arks. Not like the woman who was being kind enough to help her with her make up. She was well put together, blonde, blue eyed. She was fair like so many wished to be while Millicent was not. She was mousy and a blue stocking on top of it. Yet the words had been said, still they had not been heard. It was probably for the best. The last person who had said she had beauty was her fiance when he was....

The words asking if all was well were heard and Millicent felt a knot form in her throat. She was choking, she couldn't choke. Not then. Not now. She hated this, hated what this would lead to but she had no choice. Not now. She had to protect her last remaining sibling from the same fate she had already endured over the last hours. She had to ensure Emma did not have to go through such. And even if Emma were not a factor, no man would ever want her now. Not that she could blame them. She was soiled, spent, ruined. It alone would ruin her fathers business. Everything would fall if she did not press forward. This was to be her life now. This was her prison and she had to deal with it.

Blinking she slowly looked towards Collette and let out a shaky nod of her head. "Yes, of course. The weather just throws me off. I do so miss the evenings back in China, so much more pleasant than than English summer..." she said. Trying to convince the woman before he so no rumors would be started. Trying to convince herself so she would not crack. "Thank you ever so much, I was never good at this. I suppose I should have spent more time in front of the mirror and less time training."

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Elizaveta made her way from the tent and towards the staging area. There were things she needed to still discuss with Mary and Virginia but once the Baron had arrived she could not. It had to do with them leaving and if he caught wind of it, their plan would be blown. No, she had to keep quiet. Just a little longer. Once the presentation was completed she could speak to them in private but Circus came first right then and it had to. It was nearly time for them to begin. This would be the last time she could present to the Graveolase. Each representative was allowed two tries in a ruling. This would be her second. She had to make it work. She hoped and prayed it would. She was going against the grain as much with this presentation as she was with running off with Virginia and Mary to Scotland afterwards. May god protect her and those she was set to protect.

Stepping into the staging area she smiled as she spotted Constantin. She could not help but hear Vlad speaking before she even entered. His voice carried, as it should. "Nearly," she said as she rested a hand on Constantins shoulder, giving him a caring look before stepping passed him and stepped towards the center of those gathered. Not everyone was performing tonight. Only the best the circus had to offer, which was many indeed nonetheless. Constantin and his family were among them, as well as those with the Alexandrov name - father and sons. Others were there and the Grand Duchess carried herself to the center of them all before stopping.

"We will begin shortly. Viktor, remember, solemn to begin. It is most important to build. Ve vill not get a another chance to make this impression," she said. She had said it before but she needed to restate it. This was nothing like they had ever done before even for a show. This was not one act right after the other. This was every act, every skill, being presented at once, crossing over each other. She had spent a year working with them to choreograph it. The entire skill set, the entire circus pushed into one short program that was last all of four minutes and nine seconds...

"Ve vill make Izolde proud tonight," Elizaveta said softly as she looked over towards Vlad. The song they were performing was hers. She had sung it, she had used it as a rally cry for the circus, she had taught it to Veta but the Grand Duchess had always refused to use it in a performance. It was too raw, too close to the heart. Tonight they would perform, she would sing, many would sing. They would be heard tonight.

Turning she faced them, slowly, looking at each of them before she spoke. "Сегодня мы выступаем. Не для мира. Не для толпы. Мы сделаем для себя. Чтобы доказать тем, кто говорит, что мы не принадлежим к тому, что делаем. Они сделают нам место за столом, или мы построим собственный, большой, сильный, гордый, более русский! Это то, кем мы должны быть! Сегодня мы покажем им, кого они так долго отказывали. Мы покажем им ошибку их путей. Мы покажем им свет. Мы сильны. Мы - Цирк. Мы - Россия!" She spoke not as their future Czarina, not as the Grand Duchess. She spoke with all the dramatics, the stage presence, and the flair of the Circus. Her shoulders back, her hands out, her head held high. She was as much Circus as she was Royalty, perhaps, in that moment, even more so. With that she nodded towards Viktor, it was time for the introduction.

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Colette was not stupid. Though women were often made to be a pretty thing to look at, a tool to be used in trade, business, and politics, or to be the homemaker for her husband, Colette prided herself on being a step above. Though she knew the inner workings of how to handle a house, she also could wield a weapon, confident she could take down any man that crossed her.

But that was not the case here as she helped the woman with her makeup. Colette could put things together. The woman was doing her best to hide such a thing from others, and sure most others probably would not have noticed much, but Colette did. As much as she prided herself on her intelligence, she was also up to date on current fashion and this woman, who she assumed was at least the same prestige as herself, was not. Her gloves were longer than others. She barely showed any skin. She had been crying and was now making excuses.

The woman had been attacked. Colette immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was her husband or her fiance that did so and that gave Colette an intense dislike for the man she never met. However, the woman mentioned China and Colette found inside her self a sort of kinship with the woman. Could it be the woman was the victim of the attack she heard? She mentioned training. Best to start there.

"China? Oh, yes! I trained there as well. Such a lovely country. And do not go downplaying training. I enjoy a good training session as much as the next girl." Colette was nearly finished helping hide the woman's downtrodden face, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Far be it from me, a stranger to not only yourself but to this city as a whole, but I cannot help but wonder if this has more to do with the weather? If you fear others listening in, perhaps we can go somewhere more private to speak? I do not want to pry if you would rather not talk, but I am offering my....ear? There is a saying I have heard. Zut, what is it?" Colette struggled a bit with her English "slang".

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Virginia had clearly asked Mary if she was ready to "meet the normals", to which she had responded cheerfully to the affirmative. But sitting in the presence of these people, she had no idea what to make of them. The Graveolase, or the ones who were the more vocal, at any rate, most assuredly did not appear to fit into the standard of the English Ton, nor any other collection of moneyed and titled persons of influence. Mary could see that there was indeed a pressing air of politic around these people, be it unlike her experience with the Papal Court or the nobility of the British Empire. It wasn't as clear to see what motivated these people, though in fairness they had just met.

Then, of course, Ludwig happened. He happened in such a way as to provoke responses from most of the Graveolase in attendance, giving Mary a better idea of who they were and what they were about. It was just the tiniest glimpse, but it was something. Two of them saw fit to introduce themselves as the happening commenced, one seemingly for the appointment of Ludwig's delegation. Though if there was a full organization of people like him, and he was selected to act on their behalf, this must be a very interesting delegation indeed. The one against his entry had introduced herself first, followed by the highly informal salutations of the representative from Scandinavia. Mary remained as serene of visage as possible, considering the act put before her at that time conflicting with her need to maintain manner and propriety in this highly important event. "Madame Del'ataunt, Master Bjorn," she began, unsure of proper titles in this instance, "it is an honor to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my unfamiliarity with the formalities of the Graveolase; is this..." she motioned to the increasingly laughable but highly impressive antics of Ludwig Zimmer, "...a common occurrence with the Council?"

The odd festivities provided by the lone German were more than enough to impress Mary. Considering that he was insisting upon an audience with her, she could only surmise that it was intended for that purpose. That was, until he actually got in front of her and performed a single action involving a "Magic Bean". Apparently, that was supposed to be the entire demonstration, not every other working of Trained skill which preceded. Of particular interest to Mary was the full body transformation that came with him turning into a fairy; riding the ferret was just icing on the cake for showmanship, intended or not.

Then the guards tackled him to the ground. Amid struggle and the odd utterings in German, Mary voiced her agreement with Akechi Lee Ko, "Yes, do let him up. I would hear more from this man." Though now, Mary regretted not learning more in the way of the German language when she took training with the Swiss Guard.

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The sound of Izolde's name struck a chord with Vladimir. Tears wet his eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks below. He needed to use every ounce of his Russian-ness and utter masculinity to rein in his emotions as they were a powerful force of nature, not unlike a thunderstorm or stampede; infinitely more difficult to control than to let loose. "Da. Ve vill make our Izolde proud tonight." His voice was tinged with melancholy, but also with pride. "Iz all for her. Ve vill put on show so grand, Line ov Great Bazhooli back to beginning vill notice."

Elizaveta's words even reminded Vladimir of his late love, Izolde. Her inflection, even the subtle nuances of her hands as she spoke. She had taught the young Grand Duchess much, and after years of raising Veta from a child to a grown, powerful woman, it was only natural for there to be similarities. More than ever, Vladimir knew that this was his daughter, in spirit if not by blood.

The Ringmaster, Viktor, was similarly moved. He spent the next few seconds clapping and wiping tears from his eyes, having witnessed two short but very moving speeches. Then he remembered that he had a job to do. Just as they had practiced for months and months. Standard introduction, start out slow, build. The Mamushka plays the center role, all other acts operate in tandem, and the skills of Rusyn Training demonstrated throughout. Without saying a word, Viktor dabbed his face with a handkerchief, cleared his throat, and walked as tall and proudly as he could toward the event site. The Show Must Go On.

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Constantin was caught a little unprepared when he heard Veta's voice and took a look at her at hte moment she had placed a hand on his shoulder. Perhaps he had to keep proper formalities worthy of their respective ranks. She was not anywhere near his equal, but he couldn't help it right now. He answered ot her with a smile." Alvays." Was his reply though. He was always ready to perform. His was a position that couldn't afford to be neary ready. Rather non of the performers were allowed to be NEARLY ready. THey had to be ready and in his heart and mind he was sure they were! This was going to be made a performance like non other! The pride, it was all their collective pride put on the line and even more. Everyone was in this with all their beings!

As Veta started to speak, Constantin focused on her. Only on her for that moment. The way she spoke, the way her voice carried hte burning feeling of a proper woman of the circus. Yes she was not simply a royalty, she was more than that. She carried the knowledge and skill of a performer too! He smiled, even with all the verbal skirmishes between them she was a close friend. A family and he was glad to be family with the circus and everyone in it, including her. It was time to show those people their skill.

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Virginia didn't mind the lack of a need for grand introductions. It was more reminiscent of family gatherings, where it didn't matter what position you held or what titles you claimed, as long as you were a Crypt. And even then, sometimes the rule could be a bit slack. Alfred, their dear butler, was a Fawley yet he was considered a Crypt. Outsiders were welcome to attend as guests of any member of the family and for that evening, they were considered Crypts as well. It was a place of belonging for misfits, those who could never quite be classified as odd, those who would attract the attention of the Catholic Church and be suspected of lacking a soul.

Virginia glanced at the individuals assembled, taking a quick count of those present. Not all of the Graveolase was here, then. It was the first thing about this specific assembly these evening that struck her as rude. While not all had to travel distances so far, it was clear to her that some members of the Graveolase had put in an effort to make an appearance. In her mind, it was disrespectful to the other members of the Graveolase and those that had traveled such lengths to meet with them. She eventually settled on noting this as being another thing she did not appreciate about normals.

Her attention was soon caught by a chorus of voices - well, a singular voice proclaiming that he wasn't mad. Her eyes lit up, filled with what appeared to be a dreamy excitement. The mentally ill were perhaps her favorite people. She adored deviances in psychology, finding the variations in the mind to be some of the most fascinating subjects to peruse in the world. Lady Dywell had been quite mad as well, helping to shape Virginia's viewpoint. Yes, she was certain that she'd have a wonderful conversation with the strange man - better than she would have with any other member of the Graveolase present.

She gasped slightly, absolutely enthralled as the madman turned into a small creature. How odd! She had never seen anything quite like it before. Not only did the man exhibit abnormal behavior, he also appealed to her interest in the Soulless - and the techniques that accompanied them. It had to be some sort of trained technique, Virginia reasoned. Or perhaps he had simply been born in such a manner - she supposed it had to be possible. The Crypt Family had their fare share of human anomalies from their stories.

Virginia hardly cared for the conversation between Mary and the Graveolase members. She was too busy enjoying watching the spectacle that the madman had provided. "He's wonderful," Virginia said with a smile. By the time he had finished his routine and run up to Mary, Virginia gave him a light smattering of applause. After the emotional weight of the last twenty four hours, she hadn't realized how much she needed something as light and carefree as that. Her eyes widened slightly at his exclamation of her being an alabaster Bella. Was it a coincidence for him to call her that name, after all of the talk of the deadly nightshade?

She doubted it was coincidence. The universe was rarely so lazy. Virginia smiled kindly at the man, kneeling down slightly to offer him a hand in order to rise to his feet. "That was truly spectacular - delightful, really. I've never seen anything quite like it." Virginia complimented. "And please do call me Virginia." She didn't feel a need to insist on titles or circumstance. She realized how unusual it was for an earl's daughter to introduce herself using her first name to a strange man she had just met - yet she was a Crypt. This man wasn't a normal. He was someone that she felt was a kindred spirit.

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As Thalken neared the gate to the Tent City, two guards materialized into his view. His muscles tensed, half expecting them to jump him upon sight. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of Dao, yet he caught himself at the last second, hand hovering just above it. He took a deep breath, up through his nose and back out through his mouth, in an attempt to calm himself. His fingers flexed above the hilt of his weapon before he let his hand fall back down to his side. He needed to get a grip on his nerves before he did something foolish. Oh wait. It was too late for that. He was one man walking into what was basically the encampment of the Talink's "enemy." Talk about stupid. Though, a part of him hoped that the bold action in and of itself would speak volumes. One could only hope.

He approached the two guards at their post. He needed to act natural. How in the hell did he do that?! The corner of his lips pulled up in his sad attempt at looking less--threatening. Yet the guards' words, no matter the presentation, caused the smirk to slips from Thalken's trained façade. His eyes darkened the slightest bit, and a small tic formed in the muscles of his face as his jaw clenched. Words, Thalken. Use words.

"The name's Thalken Talink," he finally stated matter-of-factly, his chin lifting slightly. "I'm certain the Lady Crypt has been expecting me."

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"Virginia... Mia'Bella."

Bjorn leapt over the partition between the stands and the ring, stepping forward as he flexed his fingers. He was still grinning from ear to ear but there was a different look in his eyes. "When Ludwig is about there is nothing normal," Christine muttered as she stood there and crossed her arms over her chest. "But to more directly answer your question mon petit cheri, no. We only accept applications to the council once every three years from a representation. It just so happens that Russias came up today, Germanies is a year over due. We had hoped that they had finally given up."

"Perhaps you had but I am firmly behind Russia being welcomed to the table," Lee Ko said as she shot a sideways glance to Christine.

"As am I, I just will not give support for Germany," Christine clarified.

Ludwig lay there, staring frozen at Virginia. He seemed to have stilled in the moment even as Bjorn stepped over. The Russians stepping back from him as the Viking came over. They couldn't tell if he was as mad as the man that they had just tackled but the joyous look in his eyes and the smile plastered on his features was more than a little disturbing right then. "Ludwig, it's Bjorn," he said as he held his hand out to the man. The Russians stayed close they were not sure it was a good time to step away. They didn't know any of these people and their Grand Duchess was within the tent city.

Greetings and Salutations,

I am the little voice in Ludwigs mind. I'm not the only one, heavens it is crowded in here, but I am that small piece of sanity that he has. I am actually much larger than one might believe but because of so many others little shards of insanity running around here like drunken toddles it can be very difficult for me to be heard the majority of the time. I used to try to make myself known a lot more but I have found over the years it is best to pick my battles. Trying to be seen every time Ludwig acts or speaks is tantamount to trying to nail orange marmalade to the wall, a rather futile endeavor wouldn't you agree? I hope so otherwise making myself known at this time is rather pointless.

I suspect you are asking why now. Ludwig is a dear chap and well meaning. He normally isn't this far to the left but you have to understand that certain situations can make him worse. Too much on his shoulders, too many sights, new sounds, new people. Over stimulation is what I believe would be the best way to describe it. Like throwing a royal scandal into the middle of the season. It is a situation that is just waiting to explode. I really do not want Ludwig crossing the line from eccentric to certifiable. Would be a shame. Me shushing the rest of the group is a pause moment in his brain to reset as it were.

Just a few moments while he is restrained to still his mind along with his body. Thankfully he seems to have something to focus on. I can see why, she does have a striking similarity to the name sake. It is rather remarkable. The features are strong. Couldn't have come at a more opportune moment because I dare say, another without and we may have seen just how truly tilted he could have been. Enough time should have passed, I will leave you now. Do not worry, I am always here it is just time to let the kids out to play again before they revolt. Toodles my dears, I will speak to you again one day.

Blink one, blink two. "Master Joyous!" Ludwig exclaimed as he lifted his head from the dirt and reached out. Taking the hand that was offered him he got to his feet and dusted himself off. "Wonderful to see you." Yes, it was wonderful. A joyous person, not a mad person greeting him. It did him good. His nose wrinkled and noted there was no wire on the bridge. A buckling of his knees and his neck rolled this way and that. Seeking the glasses that had fallen from his face when he was knocked to the ground. Spotting them he snatched him up as his arms swung like a windmill before placing them back on, hooking the curls around the back of his ears.

"Um..." slowly lowering his hands from his ears he glanced around and noted the rest of the attending Council there. "How'd I do?" he asked nervously as he adjusted the strap on his bag and Dieter, his ferret not his brother, jumped from Bjorns shoulders over to his master, curling up around his neck. His brows rising dramatically as his eyes widened, as if stretching the muscles before his face went slack again and he bit his bottom lip.

"I think you did splendidly," Bjorn assured him as he wrapped an arm around the mans shoulders and walked him over to the Council proper. "Though I don't think Christine was very impressed."

"Pftpht," Luwdig blew a raspberry with his lips and rolled his eyes. He din't bother to hide how he felt. He didn't know how. "Those swamp rats she stews had gnawed her brains."

"Is that so?" Christine said offended.

"Yes," Ludwig said and grinning as if what he had said should have caused no issue what so ever. Bjorn could only laugh as he lead Ludwig to the seat next to where he had been seated, placing him squarely between himself and Virginia. Looking over at Virginia he grinned ear to ear. "Hello, you are very pale. Condition or Crypt?" he asked as he pulled his notebook out of his satchel.

"Sorry to interrupt but I have to get with the reset of the Circus, we are about to begin, can I leave the boys with you?" Petrov came over and asked. Adam and James were still riding Myska as if he was a horse built just for him. They had been in the back of the tent watching as everything went down.

"Oh, has to be Crypt! Lord Pale, Lady Pale. Yes! Crypt! I called it!" Ludwig said proudly. Adam slipped off of Myska and wandered over towards Ludwig looking him over a minute. Ludwig in turn looked right back. "Oh oh! Yes, you sit!" he exclaimed and Adam crawled right into Ludwigs lap.

"Looks like we have them, go finish getting ready," Lee Ko said and Petrov nodded as he lifted James off Myska and set him down to go to his sister before turning. He and Myska, along with the Russians that had tackled Ludwig were off. The show was starting in mere moments.

At the front gate - (Please hold, a Sigil is loading....)

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A brow rose slightly at the mention that this woman trained in China as well, yet she did not mention the fact that Millicent had spoken in the language earlier. Perhaps she learned Cantonese instead of the Mandarin that Millicent had spoken earlier. Or perhaps she had been trying to not intrude. Either way, it really did not matter much to Millicent, it was nice to see another woman who had chosen to train there. There were not many in London and even those that had did not associate with Millicent often. One had but they were not close. At least not in a traditional sense.

"That is rare to hear but I am glad that you do, it is nice to know that I am not alone." It was true what she spoke. She did not like being the only woman who had trained in China that she knew. That wasn't exactly true. She had known women in the past but they, once again, did not associate with the Wyndhams. If only her sister had been allowed to train, perhaps she would be alive now instead of being carriaged across England to their country home to be buried. The thought struck at the heart of Millicent and reminded her why she was going through all of this. To ensure that her only remaining sister did not have to face the same fate.

That thought reminded her that she shouldn't speak of it, of what happened. Not that she would be the first woman to endure it but it was not something that was spoken of and if wind got out before the wedding it could make things so much worse. No, she would just have to be be calm and carry on. Smiling kindly but weakly she finally responded to the rest. "Oh is nothing. I was at Almacks yesterday, there was an attack. Thankfully I still draw breath," she said. She did not mention Rutherford though or that the majorty of her wounds were caused by him after the attack. That part could be conveniently left out and the attack could provide as cover for why she looked so battered. Lowering her head she sighed. "I lost a younger sister in the attack." That much she could admit to.