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Millicent wasn't sure what to say at that point. The entire situation was making her rather uncomfortable as she stood there. Her fiance was there, being just as charming as he ever had been and in fact more so than he had been recently at Almacks, but underneath she knew or at least thought she knew what was going on through that mind of his and it wasn't anything she wanted to think about or focus on.

Yet as much as the situation was bothering her she knew it was something that she would have to grow accustomed to in the future. She would soon be a bride. She would have to host many events, put on a smiling face as they entertained hoards of the ton. It was never anything she wanted for her life. To be that person. She wanted to read, she wanted to paint. It was almost funny to think on it now. That she had ever held hopes that her father would return and this nightmare would come to an end. To think that she ever would have had the life she dreamed of. This time period did not pay well to dreamers.

Rutherford looked over towards Colette and gave her a charming smile as he stood there. "A woman need only hold her tongue when it is to her benefit. Many would be surprised just how much further their own desires could carry them if they held until just the right time. Yet that can be said for men as well," he said answering Colettes question. Glancing he looked over towards Millicent for a moment before turning his attention back to the French woman. "I was just coming to inform my fiance that they were beginning to seat for dinner, would you care to join us?" he asked as he offered his arm out to his fiance.

Millicent wasn't sure what to think of what Rutherford was saying but something was off to her. "Oh yes, please do join us. Your company would be most welcome," she said as Rutherford offered his other arm to Colette. If anything perhaps she could keep Colette close and give her warning to not let her guard down around Rutherford. If anything perhaps he would keep acting like a human being with Colette in their presence. Either way, it was the best she had right then.

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The Grand Duchess nodded towards Vlad. She knew exactly what she was doing. "Yes ve vill form our ovn council. Germany vill be joining us as vell as others I hope in the future. Master Ludvig has spoken in moments of clarity of others. Ve shall seek them out and bring them into the fold. It is time that all those vho have been outcasts to have their time at the table," she said as she stood there.

Then came the news that a Talnik was at the gate. Elizaveta who rarely showed much emotion wise suddenly had a grin on her lips as devious as any gypsy while she stood there. Her brow arcing slightly. "That is very interesting. Please, bring him into the main tent." It was odd that she would suggest such a thing, even now with the council on their way to making an exit. Yet why she wanted the man in the main tent soon became clear enough.

"Master Zimmer remains in the main tent at this time. Do make sure to introduce the tvo," she suggested before she continued. "Nov if you vill excuse me. I have a meeting with Sister Mary and Lady Crypt in my tent. James is vith Adam in the main tent, do ensure there is plenty of security for our nevest family," she added before turning and promptly leaving the staging area.

The smile remained on her lips for a moment as she made her way towards her own tent. It slowly faded away as she spotted Mary and Virginia making their way to her tent. Her feet sped up but not enough to appear hurried until she caught up with them. "Talnik is here, Circus is dealing vith him. He is to be taken to master Zimmer to speak vith currently. Nov is the time to make haste," she said before her fingers began to snap in an odd melody. It wasn't long after she reached her tent and held back the flap that Myska came bounding towards them and slipped into the tent as well.

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A council, a table. So round. Round and round it goes, where it stops no one knows. All around the mulberry bush the monkey chases the weasel. Such a silly thing. Why chase the weasel when ferrets were so much better to handle. Especially Dieter, the ferret not his brother. Still his brother would have been more fun to chase around the mulberry bush than a weasel. Hrm, did hid father smell of mulberries. Or perhaps it wasn't mulberries, perhaps it was elderberries. Silly elders, thinking he was mad. He wasn't mad, he was happy, nearly joyful. Well at least one elder wasn't silly. He was joyous. He understood Ludwig. Others would in time. It seemed some did, that was good. Good not bad, no mad. He wasn't mad. They were all mad here but he wasn't. He was glad, glad, glad, glad, glad.

Looking at the table he smiled, for he was glad. He had not only food before him, and a ferret with him. Not a hamster. Not his mother. Ni! He also found one to mentor. Didn't he? Where was that little scamp. Glancing around, he spun as he knees buckles, his shoulders dropping. Worried, not mad, but worried. Then no more worry. There he was. Listening, listening well. Stories being spun as he heard James telling of the Bermuda Triangle.

"Blow me back to Bermuda! To the shores where they cast anchor. Black flags waving in the air. Skulls on the weavings and poop on the decks. Cawk! Polly want a cracker! One more moldy cracker and pow! I'll swab the deck with him I will. Dive, down deep to Davy Jones locker, straps to boots. They call the merfolk ad the kraken, slithering around the ships and crushing them. All for the gold, glorious gold. Black hair and eye patches, wooden legs and salt. Oh what fun they have," he said as his voiced went this way and that. Oh it was a day to speak like a pirate it was.

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It wasn't as if Colette felt uncomfortable around Lord Rutherford. On the contrary, he was quite charming and she could see why women would be interested in him. More to the point, she would have talked back to him had Lord Rutherford not admitted that sometimes men need to be the ones to be quiet. It was more progressive than Colette thought he would be. "That is not normally a popular belief, Lord Rutherford, and I am surprised but pleased to hear. Many believe a woman should be seen and not heard and I disagree. However, you do speak the truth. Sometimes silence is best."

At the mention of dinner, Colette had to admit to herself she was quite hungry. She would not turn down food if offered. Not only because it would be proper courtesy, but she really wanted to eat something. Plus, she was looking forward to seeing how the English handled their foods. "I would certainly not turn it down." Colette took the arm offered her. She was looking forward to seeing how dinner went with the two of them in tow.

As Constantin fell asleep and his mind moved to the state of dreaming, he was quite restless. The events of the day had left their mark on the man as he turned in his sleep. Dreams were a weird thing, so vivid while you have them and almost fogotten the moment you wake up only to fade in the next moments anyways. What he dreamt of was a complete mess. A non sensible tangle of threads of logic and memories, of thoughts that were given image from the deapths of his mind.

There was everything from the pleasant night sleep, to flashbacks to the performance, to ones of the deep cold abyss that was the water they nearly drowned in that morning. As such his dream could more easily called a nightmare really. Amist the pleasant images and sensations, the darker ones were turning out in greater and greater number, causing him to turn ever so violently in his sleep, cold sweat covering his body as flashes of near tragedies and potential catastrophes were overtaking his wandering hte lands of dreams mind. Yes there were things out there that only the nightmares could make more horrible than they already were.

As the celebration outside was picking up speed, so was his nightmares. Still he was a man of loaylty and action so even in his nightmares he wasn't going to be done in without a fight. Still a little fear lingered in him of the unknown enemy htey faced. How was he going to prepare for that thing?!

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The concept of forming their own Council was discussed, even optimistically so. But much of the time it seemed like the discussion one might have about winning a city lottery or land drawing - excited talk full of maybes and ifs, but without a lot of substance beyond the light and airy feeling one gets when daydreaming about exciting things that might be. Now that Veta had refused the offer of the Graveolase (but wasn't that Mary now?) and decided that the Russian delegation would strike out on its own, Vladimir had his doubts about how exactly that would be accomplished. Then she mentioned Ludwig. The crazy German apparently held knowledge of many other groups that the Graveolase had refused. This meant two things to Vlad: First, they had a list to go by when searching for other persons of Training, be they nonstandard. Second, they were stuck with the man now. They would not have any of the political clout of the Graveolase, at first. And they would probably have to prove themselves to whomever they wished to convince to join their budding group.

"Vell, Circus is not stuck in vone place. Ve move, move to vherever The Baron commands! I vould rather stay and make moneys from peoples of London; Season is upon us, da, and money is in London now. If is not best for Circus, best for our people, then ve move." A devious grin took hold of Vladimir in that moment, punctuated by a sparkle in his eyes. If a silver lining was to be found, then The Great Bazhooli had just found it. Ever the showman, true delight shone through in his voice as he proclaimed with the confidence attributed to many of his title, going back uncounted generations, "This means show! This means ve must prove to other countries, other peoples that ve are vorthy of joining vith! This means..." He paused for dramatic effect, spinning once around slowly with his arms outstretched, "...this means Grand Mamushka vill be danced again! Da! Ve do this! Little more time in raining, foggy London-town, then the road - she calls to us!" The thought hadn't really occurred to him that they weren't fully prepared to go off the plan, popping elsewhere to go on what amounted to an extended tour. These were details, mere details. It could be rectified with an influx of funding or by acting in the manner of the Circus of old; hunting, scavenging, even a bit of thieving if needed. Women of contractible promiscuity plying their trade instead of just dancing or assisting in shows, even making deals with the local cutpurses for a percentage of the take in return for safe harbor to conditionally work the crowds. Half of their heritage was Gypsy, after all. Some of those stereotypes came with good reason, unless you were Gypsy too.

The other part of Veta's request struck him with some alarm. Actually allow the man into the Circus? His family had already promised to bring harm to James and Virginia, and by extension had made enemies of the Circus and the Sem'ya. Yet the Grand Duchess commands his admittance. Another questioning look leapt from Vladimir's face, doubt coloring his feelings about Veta's decision. But it was not his place to question her, not unless it had direct impact upon the Bazhooli Sem'ya. "Ov course, Grand Duchess. Vill be as you command." Vladimir spun his hat back onto his head and gave a swift, agile bow while his hand was still on the brim, then immediately turned and strode back toward the front gate.

Along the way, he issued a few stark orders in his Trained tongue of Rusyn, ensuring that outsiders would not have a clue as to his motivations and that those of Training would be among the extra security that moved to occupy the main tent and to flank him as he walked. Trained persons armed irregularly, but armed, all. When he finally made it back to the gate, he addressed Thalken with strong, projected tones, mustering as best of English as fit the situation. "Stand, Talink!" he barked, raising a hand to get the guards marching along with him to stop. He kept his other hand occupied spinning a large knife. It calmed him. "By order of Grand Duchess, have been granted audience vith representative." Vlad hesitated to mention what the man was representing, as he really didn't know, himself. "You vill be turning all veapons over to this guard." he motioned over to one of the guards that occupied the post just a while earlier, "May call him, eh... Bob. For now, is Bob. Then you come vith us. Any problem, you will not see outside of Circus. Ever."

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It was nearing time for Mary and the others to begin their own little adventure, traveling overland to Mary's own country of origin and effecting what might actually amount to a daring rescue. It was much like the stories that she used to read as a child, where the good Knight rides hard and fights the good fight for God and Country, finally overcoming overwhelming odds with his sword, his head, and the grace of the Almighty. Now as an adult, she realized that much more went into the execution of a successful mission, but the child in her still felt a little excited about having this adventure with her friends. It was good. It was righteous. And Mary had her own suspicions about that Rutherford fellow. It was bad enough, his political affiliation over her Clan. But this? Downright evil.

Mary smiled a small smile at Virginia's words. Of course she would be available to answer any questions her friend would have for her. It went without saying, though it was polite of her to mention. But she was probably very correct; the present for present matters. Mary only wished that she had time to collect her horse, Cassius, before they departed. With practiced grace, Mary fell into step with Virginia, cradling her halberd in the crook of her arm. "Of course, Lady Crypt. You may ask anything of me, and I am sure that we will have time enough for discussion later."

The following moments were spent listening to their footfalls as the pair made their way to Elizaveta's tent. Mary registered a small element of surprise as the Grand Duchess joined them, seemingly out of nowhere. She had a bit of gypsy in her, Mary would wager (if she was the wagering type). The fact that she was raised by Circus people might have something to do with that, yet she managed to maintain her aloof sense of royal propriety. Then Veta said something that made Mary's hand reflexively move to her pistol. Talink was here. She had pledged herself to assist in the protection of James Crypt, even though The Baron had likewise promised the safety of the Circus, and indeed that he would be trained as one of the Bazhooli Sem'ya. Nonetheless, Mary felt a tiny calling in the back of her mind, pulling her back to the main tent to confront the villain and complete the action she began the previous evening when she drew her large bore firearm on the man. As far as she was concerned, his presence was a complication they did not need at best, and the preceding action to an attack at worst. It would be better to stitch this tiny problem before it became less surmountable.

That thought process was halted directly in its tracks by Veta's next words. "Master ...Zimmer?" she inquired, the touch of serenity that made Mary stand out among her peers faltering, replaced in areas with something akin to mirth or satisfaction. She still had her reservations, but as long as the Bazhoolis had their people on it as well, Mary could continue with their plan without regret. She quickly reassembled her seraphic demeanor, pleasantly nodded to Elizaveta, and entered Her Grace's tent without delay. She was even getting used to the presence of her great white tiger, Myshka, who appeared overjoyed to join them.

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Thalken stopped his pacing midstride when The Great Bazhooli's voice rang out loud and clear. He then stiffly and gloweringly pivoted on his heels to face the imposing man. His eyes narrowed, eyeing in particular the large knife in Vlad's hand, as the man continued on. His intense gaze suddenly snapped up to meet Vlad's upon hearing this new proposition of sorts. Perhaps he should have felt relieved, grateful even, that he would be granted an audience after all, considering his previous doubts; however, he was feeling anything but that. He was left with more questions than answers and was ultimately filled with more cynicism than idealism.

Though he could not proclaim to be socially adept, he certainly wasn't ignorant. The stories were changing. First, it was said that he would get an audience with the Lady Crypt. Now, it was simply with a representative. And when the hell did the Grand Duchess have any part in this?! God dammit. In the end, Thalken felt that he couldn't fully trust a man who couldn't keep to his word. Ironic, I know. Nonetheless, what choice did he have? This was perhaps his last chance to make amends. It was the point of no return.

Thalken's muscles tensed up slightly when he was told to hand over all of his weapons. It wasn't surprisingly really, but nonetheless, it made his skin crawl and his hackles instinctively raise. His dark eyed gaze turned to look almost menacingly at the guard. His jaw clenched, and it seemingly took more effort than was realistically necessary to start removing his precious weapons. "Don't you dare lose my stuff, Bob," he growled as he started disarming himself. He removed his single shot pistol first and roughly shoved it into the guard's hands. He then removed his sheathed Dao from his belt and more reluctantly handed that over. He finally pushed back his overcoat slightly and bent down to remove the sheath containing his throwing knives that was attached to his left thigh. He then promptly straightened back up and shoved that into the guard's hands as well before turning back to Vladimir.

"Ready when you are," he exclaimed gruffly as he trained his features to something more neutral in an effort mask his growing anxiety.

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Virginia's mouth curled into a slight frown at the news that a Talink was there. She supposed that it was understandable - there had been a reason she forewarned the Circus of the new danger that James was in. Yet she had the utmost faith in the Circus' abilities to handle the threat. They were Crypts, more or less - even if they did not boast that surname. She could think of no other group in the world better equipped to handle the security of her little brother. However, she did find it odd that they were directing the Talink towards Ludwig. The question she had intended to ask Mary later came back into her mind and she mentally brushed it aside.

She nodded her head in thanks as Elizaveta opened the tent flap for them, grinning softly as the tiger came to join them. Although they were completely different species, he reminded her a bit of her bloodhound, Ripper. James always adored playing with her dog. He used to try to ride Ripper when he was a little bit smaller and while Ripper protested at first, he had since come to accept it. He was getting up there in years, as was Alfred Virginia realized upon reflection. "I am sure Master Zimmer is more the equipped to deal with such a lowly creature," Virginia said with a soft smile. "But we should focus on the crucial matter of hand - that of Millicent Wyndham," Virginia added.

She did not know how much time they had until Millicent was forced into an arranged marriage to such a vile man. He was cruel in matters that disgusted even the Crypts. Had he simply been a charismatic serial killer, she would have liked him much better - yet instead, he clung to the worst threads of society from what Virginia had been able to deduce. "We must make haste," Virginia said softly. "I fear what Rutherford intends for her..."

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"Ahh, I am sure many believe it even if they do not have the constitution to voice it among their own peers. I find that courage to speak ones mind becomes absent in public for so many do you not?" Rutherford say as he led the women from the library and down the hallway towards the main dinning room.

The table was long, seating nearly 100 with ease. All splendidly laid out in true London fashion with the servants posted through out to help the ladies if need be. As they entered they were approached by the host himself. "My my, Lord Rutherford, you enter my second home with one beautiful woman on your arm and now, having been here less than a full evening, I see you have found another stunning one in which to decorate your arm with. How do you do it?"

"Ha, Thomas, careful. These women are not your typical wall flowers. Please let me introduce you. You have already met my dear fiance Millicent but this exotic flower is the Lady Colette de La Fontaine, gracing us with her presence from France. Lady Fontaine, please let me introduce you to Lord Thomas Egerton, the second Earl of Wilton," Rutherford said as he stood there.

Millicent wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Wait, yes she was. Rutherford was charming, and handsome, and he knew how to play the crowd. Thomas she was not sure of, she didn't know him well, yet Rutherford she felt she knew him far more than she ever wished to. She hoped that Colette would be able to see through the ruse at one point. This man was not what he seemed.

"My, it is a pleasure. I had hoped you would attend though I must admit I did not believe you would grace us with your presence. Please, do join Lord Rutherford and I, along with Miss Wyndham," Thomas said offering his arm to take Colette off Rutherfords hands. "We have seating just this way for all of us if you would."

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Letting the tent flap close quickly behind her, she made sure it was shut before moving deeper within the tent. She looked nothing like the Grand Duchess had earlier, dressed in garb far more fitting for her adoptive mother before she had passed than the future Czarina of Russia. Yet she carried herself the same nonetheless and it was hard to tell when she was moving over than the gliding fact she was in one place and then another. Glancing over towards Mary she nodded to Virginias words. "I believe that Master Zimmer vill do nicely right nov. He is very different but there seems to be method to his madness, one I intend to get to knov better. Vhen the time comes. Yet as ve knov, time is short and ve must make a move. Nov is that time," she said as Sister Sophia came to the tent and announced herself.

Elizaveta gave a look that spoke volumes, one that said keep quiet for now. "Here are the papers you wanted." The sisters voice was stern and the look on her own face spoke volumes. She did not approve of the show nor the manner of dress of the grand duchess right then. Elizaveta paid her glare no mind as she took the papers from her, thanked her promptly and showed her to the door. Assuring the woman that she was in good hands with Mary and Virginia at her side to help her change and that she wished to rest without worry for a time. It took a moment of back and forth in Russian but eventually the other sister left the tent and the trio alone once again.

Turning towards Virginia, Elizaveta handed over the papers so that the Circus could take over care of James. It was very standard, there was nothing out of place, and nothing they hadn't agreed to. He would be protected, raised, and trained in the Circus. His skills would be evaluated but he would be able to chose which he preferred. If he chose an animal skill, one would be chosen and it would be provided by he circus and trained alongside him. He would also be trained in an act and perform with the Circus until his eighteenth birthday at which time he could chose to remain or to leave.

"I fear for her as well. I must ask, how are your riding skills ladies? We will need to be like the wind and while I know my own abilities with Myska, yours I am unaware of," she said as she stood there and glanced around. "I do not believe either of your attire, or mine for that matter will work. That I can fix," she said before making her way to a trunk and pulling a key out that was near by.

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Food, to quench the churning and bubbling that was held within the trapping of skin. A battle without a target, pitting force against itself until from above something new slid down and fell into the pit of despair. Then and only then could attentions be turned, attacking and blinding with acid to flow over and take down in the tilde wave of gastric juices. The meat could fight it but in the end it would be enveloped. Glub glub glub. A valiant death and one that would stem the tides of hunger pains for a few hours, providing the world within the body needed respite from the carnage that was nearly constant within.

Yet on the outside, such valantry was often over looked. Especially when one was speaking of pirates. Or anything else that clamored through Ludwigs mind. Sitting down in a chair, half hunched over his plate and picking at his food, sucking and biting as his face sunk and rose, watching the boys, watching the food, watching the flames flicker from the gas lights. "Down the rabbit hole, go and ho. Through the maelstrom. Wet, splash, mists of salt sticking to the skin, drying pale white, yes, pressed to paper to remember as it pulls life from your flesh." He spoke as he ate a small chicken leg, pulling the meat between his teeth, sucking it in and chewing as he spoke. Arms would fail from time to time but who was he speaking to, one couldn't tell. Was he speaking to himself, to another, to the boys, to a voice in in his mind?

"Dark waters, depths of the souls, so deep they go. Walk to the bottom and out the hole on the other side. Grinning, keep grinning. To the left or to the right, in the dark or in the light, we grin. At a beheading or at low tea we grin. Never stop grinning, a pipe, oh who the smoke rises from the blue, the deep blues and the blacks of night. The belles toll and the peacokes caw. Parrots, oh polly want a cracker? To the trees, to the houses, up again. How swiss, how cheese, how coconut. Tigers and dragons, white and red, roses and paint. In the reflection you will see them, they are coming for you, you are coming for them. Shatter in the minds eye, shatter the glass, down the rabbit hole, take a pill. Alter the mind, fix the mind, in such colors of red or blue, or perhaps green. No, shimmering anymore, just glow."

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Colette followed suit into an elegant room that could easily sit everyone within the party. She was unsure of the food she saw, but it was an impressive display none the less. Before she could retort Lord Rutherford's comment, she was addressed by another man. The man was Lord Thomas Egerton. Colette had briefly heard of him before her trip, but more so after she arrived (she was invited here, after all). Bits and pieces of gossip, both good and bad.

She curtsied and inclined her head, "A pleasure, Lord Egerton. Thank you very much for the invite. My father sends his regards." She was not sure of that fact, but it sounded nice enough and she was sure her father knew Lord Egerton by association if anything. She accepted the arm of Lord Egerton, if only to step away from Lord Rutherford. Since their first meeting, she had an off feeling of the man, especially his interaction with Millicent, who was supposed to be his beloved. Call it fantasy, call it romanticism, but they did not behave as lovers did in her eyes. Hopefully, once dinner was finished, she may be able to get Millicent alone to discuss further, if she was capable.

Until then, she had a room full of people to please.

“HA!” Constantin slashed at a creature of ice and fog that was morphing and twisting as the blade passed through it. It was not working... Nothing he would do was working. Such were his nightmares right now. The land of dreams was a scary and unknown place, governed by laws unknown to one's mind. As he would fight such a creature, things would change, meld, reform and rearrange, making him lose sense of direction and substance.

“COME BACK HERE!” He shouted as he dashed after the misty creature that by all accounts he should be able to beat with his skills, but neither abilities nor steel worked on it. As he jumped after the mist, everything had once more changed, replaced by the sight of a frozen Veta, forever encased in ice. He could see the signs of death upon her preserved body. Then the echoes started, scary, haunting, telling him of his fault in stopping this.” NO! Begone evil!” He was his reply, as he swung at the ice to free the body. This was just a nightmare... it had to be dammit. But his sword did nothing at the ice, instead it became frozen solid and so did his arm up to the shoulder.

His howl of pain echoed around as the ice shattered along with his flesh, blood gushing out, before the unknown creature suddenly appeared before him in a single arm's range. He wanted to strike at it, but the ice came again. First his legs, then his other hand as it crept upwards, slowly encasing him in ice. In the most horrifying of visions the icy mists that had already surrounded him surged into his body through his mouth, freezing his insides as they went.

“Noooooooooooo!” He shouted, jumping from his bed, falling on his knees by it. Took him a few moments to realize his right hand was still attached and there was no frost. His heavy breathing slowly calmed down, sweat dripping off his forehead.” Just a dream... it was just a dream...” He muttered in relief, finally noticing the festive sounds outside. Apparently something good was going on, what it was he was not sure. He finally decided to check it out, didn't feel like sleeping again.

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Guard duty was not the forte of The Great Bazhooli. More specifically, acting as guard/escort to persons he would rather just treat as a threat to his family, extended or otherwise, was not his forte. Perhaps it would be the forte of the next Alexandrov that bore the title of The Great Bazhooli, but not the present one. Vladimir would rather be celebrating with his people. Drinking, dancing, singing; congratulating the performers and making plans with Veta and The Baron about their future. Their very near future and the unexpected turn of events which brought them to their current state of affairs. But yet again, this would have to be put off because of the interruptions of outsiders.

Outsiders spent money. They visited. They spoke their collective "oohs" and "ahhs" at the wonders that the Circus could show them, and finally (not to mention most importantly) they went away. Just as soon as they did, the members of the Circus let loose and acted with the surety and comfort of people within the confines of their home. This place was indeed that; their home. Be it one that packed up and moved quite often, it was just as much their home as the great palaces of their mother country were to the royals, yet the Tent City was ever greater preferred among these people.

So as Vladimir and a cadre of Rusyn trained guards escorted a now unarmed Talink from the Front Gate to the Main Tent, it was done so with the slightest amount of barely perceptible disdain. The gate guards understood their duties had very recently began, but the others were missing their due celebration time and were anxious to get back to it. Anxious, but not stupid. Hands remained at the ready near or on various implements of potential bodily harm and eyes stayed sharp. The astute listener might have caught snatches of the same song following them as they made the short stroll to the tent, though played or sung from different sources as they picked their way past the sights and small crowds in the grounds, from violin music to the occasional pitched vocalization, to the plucking of stringed instruments and rhythmic clapping. It was quiet, comparatively. One could still easily hold a low conversation over the sounds of Russian joviality, but there was a certain unnerving quality when one understood that the music was there for the procession accompanying The Great Bazhooli; as soon as they left an area, those musicians ceased playing, even as others seamlessly picked up the tune. As if the music was there for a targeted reason.

Within a short amount of time, the group had made their way to, and into, the Main Tent. There was still a formidable amount of foodstuffs at the ready toward one side of the open area, several armed guards had filtered in upon the orders of the persons in charge who all seemed a little confused but nonetheless determined to see to their duties, and of course, Ludwig Zimmer with his metaphorical cartfull of piping hot, frothy instability. As he understood it, young James Crypt was to be present as well, though he did not see the little scamp, nor his friend Adam, the boy that Sister Mary had brought in with her. It was probably for the best. This was a meeting for business. Boys were rarely there unless they were filling a wine goblet or learning how to rule.

Vladimir raised his voice not only to announce their presence, but because he hadn't in almost five minutes and it was widely rumored that he had a quota to fill. "Peoples of Circus! Sem'ya! My peoples! Blood of my blood, family, those who vould do anything needed for to protect our own! Subjects of The Baron Alexandrov and Russian Empire! And, ov course, guest from German Delegation, Master Ludvig Zimmer. Ve are fortunate for having audience vith Thalken of family Talink. Master Zimmer? For please, floor is yours."

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The somber and forthcoming intonations from both Virginia and Elizaveta were matched with the steadfast manner of Mary's resolve to continue this next phase of their journey. That is to say, the young Apostolic was eager to get started. There was the question of supplies for the journey, of course, though their route took them upon a populated corridor of travel. Yet, evem as they would ride hard across the countryside, they would be setting out when most people, and certainly all respectable vendors, would be closed. Mary did, as her title implied, put her trust in God. Perhaps it was this providence that led her to pack her saddlebags with water and wine and several strawberry based pies that morning. One of the pies had already been given over as a gift that day, but there were many remaining. It was funny how things tended to work out that way sometimes. The quality might be some lesser by the time they got around to them, owing to the hard ride ahead of them, but nothing insurmountable with a fork and a little patience.

There was a sense of relief as the paperwork concerning the apprenticeship of James was handed over to Veta, and by extension Virginia. And in English, too. Sister Sophia must have worked quickly and in a steadfast manner, denying herself the company of others and missing that show to have completed the task. It was a common practice among their calling, self-denial. Especially as it meant helping others. The young Earl would be safe and happy, not to mention have access to part of his family's ancestral skill set.

Elizaveta expressed her curiosity as to her and Virginia's ability to ride. Apparently, both their actual skill in the act and the propriety of their present clothing while doing so. Mary gave a quizzical look before offering a knowing smile. "I am a skilled rider, Your Grace. I cannot match the pure and true ability of your people's trick riders, but I have taken training with a horse from a militant standpoint." It was true, she was very comfortable on horseback. What she had seen of the Brivaldi riders of the Circus was very impressive; something that she would likely never be able to accomplish herself. Given a proper horse and the need to travel quickly from one place to another, or to ride into combat, Mary was up to the task. And she did have a fine horse on the grounds; Cassius.

As for the second part of Veta's concern, that being her attire for travel, Mary was forced to voice partial disagreement. It was understandable, given the circumstance, and it might even be a good idea for Mary to change her clothing anyway for practical reasons. Nonetheless, she responded by sliding off her white robe, revealing the general attire of her work as a Venator. A gilt-edged cassock, true, but the Dame Commander was also dressed in breeches, riding boots, and a tough shirt of black material. Her clothing was designed to show her allegiance to the Church and act as functional knightly attire. "If there is to be a confrontation at the end of this journey, which I highly suspect, then I should wish to be attired as I am now, Your Grace. I would not turn down a change of clothing for the long ride ahead of us, if it please you." It might even be a novelty for her, to dress in the manner of the Circus (so long as it was not too immodest) or that of Russian royalty, even if it was simply travel clothing. "And I agree heartily with you, Lady Crypt." she said, switching attention to Virginia, "We must make haste."

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A tension pervaded Thalken as he was willingly escorted by armed guards into what felt like the lion's den to him. He had never before felt so hyperaware of his surroundings. Never before had he felt so vulnerable as he did now. His characteristic levelheadedness was most certainly being greatly tested just then. His dark eyes, which had dimmed in their intensity as his anxiety came to the forefront, glanced about. He took in quick glimpses of those around him, the squadrons of guards with their weapons at the ready and the musicians that followed along whilst playing a tune that seemed like it was leading him to his imminent death. It was all so unnerving, a feeling of which Thalken was not much accustomed to.

His gaze faced forward again, his jaw clenching with the effort of keeping his wits about him. Every survival instinct in him told him to run for the hills, not that he would get far. He took in a steadying breath as the main tent loomed ahead almost ominously. What or who would lie inside for him? What did fate have in store for him this night? So many questions, but as of yet no answers. He quickly took in the change of surroundings caused by entering the main tent. Instinctively he tried to mentally map out the place, looking for vantage points--and escape routes.

Thalken's gaze, and subsequently his attention, suddenly snapped back over to The Great Bazhooli as the man's voice rang out strong and clear. When his presence was announced to the whole of the crowd, he almost shrank back within himself, almost. Instead of faltering, his whole body stiffened. Well, basically that was more or less his version of faltering. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't like everyone's attention being on him. No, he preferred to meld into the shadows where he would reamin unseen. Out of sight, out of mind, basically. With that in mind, it was almost a relief when the floor was given to another, a Master Zimmer.

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Lord Egerton nodded slightly towards Colette and smiled. "I hope he is faring well," he said in passing as he lead her to the end of the table and to the seat to the left of his at the head of the table. Rutherford moved behind him and Millicent stepped carefully to keep up as Lord Rutherford took the seat to the right of Thomas and placed Millicent to the left of himself. Both men made sure to pull out chairs for the women on their arms and push them in as they sat down. Millicent gave a thin lipped nod and a quiet thank you to Rutherford for his assistance but it seemed that she was looking a bit more pale than she had earlier. She had looked rather pale all evening but it was lending a bit more to the flushness of her features even with the make up.

Once Thomas seated himself the rest of the guests made her to sit finally. There was a whirl wind of servants moving in now as they brought in bowls of Le Potage Printanier and set them down before each of the guests. It was a common thing to serve a "spring time" soup as the first course of the meal and well the French were the go to when it came to fine dining. Millicent looked down at the Green Pea Soup before her and breathed in the scent. There was a hint of mint coming from the bowl which was an interesting addition but one she was not going to complain about, especially in this heat. The fact they were serving it chilled as well was a nice change. This heat was murder.

Looking over towards Colette, Millicent picked up her spoon and tried to start what would be of normal conversation right then. "Lady Fontaine, how was your journey here from France? Were the waters calm for your travels?" she asked as the two gentlemen with them started to joke about some of the other peers stationed further down the table. It was nothing harsh, all in good fun as they spoke about one being dehorsed during the last fox hunt. Though Millicent shifted slightly in her seat as Rutherfords hand found its way to her knee under the table and hidden from the eyes of the others sitting there.

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Elizaveta turned the key and unlocked the trunk that was near one of the "walls" of the tent. Opening it up she listened to Mary speak and there was a small bit of relief in her mind. She had no doubt that Mary could ride, the woman arrived on horse back, but riding and riding were two different things and one needed to be skilled for what lay before them. As she listened she pulled out several burlap wrapped bundles. They did not look as if they were anything of royalty and there was good reasoning for that, they weren't. They were of a much more practical nature.

"I believe until ve have set the Circus far behind us, ve vill need to dress as if ve are, hov do you say, of common birth?" she said as she turned and pulled the butchers twin which held one of the packages closed. Pushing aside the burlap it was revealed there was a simple looking brown shirt, darker green leggings, riding boots, riding cloak, and a few other odds and ends that would go with such attire. "The less ve stand out the better I vould think. This is one time it vould be best not to draw attention to ourselves."

Picking up two more packages she handed one over to Mary and set one next to Virginia. (So she could finish her going over of the paper work and signing it before anything else.) The clothing while plain wouldn't get the attention of anyone in the circus, it was embellished enough to be seen as something perhaps one would wear around the circus for daily chores or the like. The hardest part to start this mission of theirs vould to be getting out of the circus vithout being seen. "Feel free to change behind the screen if you are more comfortable," Elizaveta said to Mary with a smile. The clothes were modest enough so she wasn't too worried about that, but changing in front of strangers might have been a bit much for the nun. Sister Sophia never even adjusted her attire in public.

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The waves, crashing in and rolling over the sands bring in the new and wash away the old. Such were things, such was life, such was death, such were the people within the tent as more started to come in. It was time to party, it was time to be glad, not mad. No never mad. It was wondrous, it was wonderful, it was a wonderland. Smile to each, in the dark, in the light. It was a story, writing itself. They had fallen into the hole and why would they leave. Yes, fall. More of you fall. TO the chairs, to the tables, to the drink and the foods. Drink Me. Eat Me. Tea and cakes, vodka and meats. Jump, a new chair, a new table, move about. Jabber, jabber, Walk and jabber, jabberwalk.

Somewhere south of hell, north of heaven, east of the sands, and west of the seas. In the center, in the center ring. New faces, faces he didn't know. Faces that didn't know him. Won't you come home. Come home. Home to the world where there is no such thing as time. No such thing as... A name, what was in a name? His name. Oh him! Words to him!

Spinning and dipping, drumming his fingers to his journal that he pressed to his chest. Head whipping and tripping over its bones, looking at Vlad and grinning. A new face. A face new than his. A step, was it a stumble or a tumble. A fall. No just a buckle as his eyes, through his glasses, went to the new man brought by the glad man. Not a mad man. Old man was a glad man. New man looked like a mad man.

"Oh don't be so mad. Careful to be mad for if you are mad, if you are not they will call you mad. They call me mad. I am anything but mad, except when they call me mad. Even then no mad. Just glad and frustrated. Funny, weaving, like threads in a tapestry. Woven, hoven, behooved. Thalken? Thalk? Talk! Mr. Talk. Talk, come, say hello. Bites I do not. Dieter might if he doesn't like you. My ferret, not my brother. My brother never bit, well once he did. I still may have the scar," Ludwig rambled off as he came closer and closer to Thalkin, his head and and body bobbing close and back, close again. His journal being shoved into his bag as he grabbed his shirt and lifted it slightly and started examining his belly. "Hrm, no mark, no more. Still feel it from tie to time. In the night, at the darkest, when it is silent. no silence, too silent, call you mad they will, come. say hello. Talk Mr. Talk," he added with a grin and then went suddenly silent as he stared at Thalken, his eyes widening as if he was expecting the man to suddenly sprout wings.

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Colette took her seat and waited for the food to be served, both nervous and excited to see what they would be fed. She was a bit flustered that she was placed near the head of the table. She did not consider herself a guest of honor in any capacity as she was a new person to this country and she was not here for any particular reason. She wondered if anyone else shared this thought as well.

Then the food was brought out and she was pleasantly surprised when she noticed it was French cuisine being ushered out. The pea soup looked inviting, given the heat. She wondered why Lord Egerton had this served though, but she was not about to complain.

Millicent spoke up towards her as the gentlemen engaged in their own conversation. That was much preferred, given the fact she did not wish to highlight any more of herself towards them. "The journey was fine, thank you. We did not have much issues getting over here, though my maid got a little...sick of the sea? She does not enjoy traveling much, but she does so anyway for me."

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Virginia accepted the papers and began to read them carefully. Even with Millicent's life being on the line, she wanted to ensure that this was done properly. The only thing that gave her pause for a moment as that James would remain with them until he was eighteen. Her initial reaction was to wish that once this entire mess ended, James would accompany her to the Americas and they would start a new life away from all of the politics of London society. Yet she knew that this was the childhood she had always wanted for her brother and that he would be with family. Once she had read the papers through in full, Virginia signed them. "Thank you," Virginia said once more, before returning the papers to the Grand Duchess.

"I unfortunately do not have much skill in riding," Virginia admitted. She then turned her attention to the clothing that had been set beside her. While she had no doubt that she would have loved to learn to ride, it simply never had happened. She could only hope that she would be a quick study - or that she might be able to travel with either Mary or the Grand Duchess. She hardly seemed bothered by the prospect of changing in front of others. There was nothing of the human form to be ashamed of. Virginia changed into the provided clothing, pulling her hair back and tying it. For a moment, she was reminded of Mosi. She would have loved these particular articles of clothing.

“Aghhh...” Constantin made a brief sound of annoyance when the voice of Vladimir boomed around, speaking about guests and the like. As if his nightmares weren't enough the one Vlad was speaking about was the crazy ferret man...' Дяволите да го земат...' Constantin cursed under his breath in annoyance, remembering the events of earlier that day. Today was not his day it seemed. Everything was mostly going backwards and the trend of it seemed to be continuing as the night went on it seemed. He could only hope that no more shenanigans happen, but knowing his luck with the day so far, the fire walker was kind of doubtful about it.

With a heavy tired steps he walked over to where his family were sitting earlier, only to find them still there, having a merry drink while stuffing themselves with the food. He shook his head and with a sigh sat down next to them again. They burst out laughing when he appeared.” Vhat did I miss?” He asked, throwing looks around. What he expected and what had happened was quite different though.

“SAY VHAT?!” He asked in shock, Veta had denied the invitation. There must be a reason... either that or she being the stubborn hardhead that she was, wasn't pleased with something. He shook his head in fatigue. Now he knew what the dreams represented, the news that things were going to get a lot more stressful.

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Granted, the first conversation that Vladimir had with Ludwig was ...odd... but this one seems to have slipped into the truly bizarre. Not that things within the Circus were ever very normal, by outside standards, but any time that they find an excuse to throw a party, things became colored with bright splashes of inexplicable. The members of the Circus who had been performing earlier were beginning to filter back into the Big Top, anxious to have full reign of their beloved tents and temporary walkways. Not to mention that a good portion of the food was there. Per Vlad's orders, the bulk of it was still back at the Tent City proper, where the Bazhooli Sem'ya and a good number of the Circus Folk were kicking off the party in earnest. It was where Vladimir wished he was right now. He wanted to speak with Veda and his father about their upcoming plans, now that they had told the Graveolase where they could shove their invitation (except for Mary, she was okay for a heavily armed Catholic lady, plus the Baron liked her).

Fortunately, if he could not go to the party, it seemed that the party would come to him. Part of it, at least. Part of it that had alcohol. The whole of them made it a point to avoid the area where Vlad, Ludwig, and Thalken were standing, partly out of respect and partly because of the glaring looks issuing from The Great Bazhooli if anyone ventured too close. The presence of armed guards making a more-or-less circle helped in this endeavor as well, though they were scattered out a bit. One person did make it through despite the imposing demeanor of Master Alexandrov; a very large and tall man by the name of Igor, whose profession as Strongman was easy to guess by way of dress and musculature. Vladimir himself was noteworthy, despite his veteran years, for having very good arms. He was toned and strong, maintaining this by strenuous training in acrobatics and knifery. Yet next to this man, he seemed a slender reed. His presence was forgivable in this instance, if only because of what he carried: One massive hand bore several goblets of non-uniform design, two metal and two wood, hanging between his fingers, while his palm awkwardly clenched a thick glass one. The other hand held three bottles in a similar configuration.

Vlad stepped back and to the side a bit, keeping himself out of what he figured was Thalken's peripheral vision. For right that second, he wanted his guest's attention to be focused on the man to whom he would be speaking, in all of his random, confusing glory. Perhaps he had a way about him that the Russians did not, and Vlad was curious as to what might happen next. He had a date with a bottle. Moderately, at first. Vladimir paused for a half second, reconsidering his plan for the next few seconds. No, this may require a different approach. A three second discussion with Igor had Vlad's hands with the two wooden goblets, one filled with a clear, mostly odorless liquid and the other with a decent Novorossiysk wine of their homeland.

With something akin to respectful patience as to the events about to unfold in front of him, The Great Bazhooli took both cups into one hand, their stems clutched between his fingers casually. He walked a quick path around to the side of the pair of men, Thalken and Ludwig, so that both might openly see him approach. As he did, a quick whistle came from the giant man, Igor, who had made his way back to the food table. Vladimir's head whipped around just in time to catch a bundle wrapped in paper with his free hand, and he continued on to the Honored Guest of the Circus in the middle of the area. "Take, Talink." he intoned, offering over the deep cup of clear drink. "Maybe you talk better vith, eh, to say... vet vhistle? Da. Is made from potatoes." He raised an eyebrow knowingly, "And beets." He did fail to mention that it was deceptively potent (even for a distillation), but possessing a robust sweetness if one could get around the nigh obscene alcohol content.

Vlad diverted his eyes over to the armed guards still around their position, then back to Thalken. He reached out his other hand, this one containing the bundle wrapped in paper, the contents of which were two smallish pies about the size of his palm each, stuffed with diced potatoes and what he hoped was seasoned beef. His voice picked up with just a touch of drama, that others in the vicinity "Hospitality of Circus is for everyvone given invitation. Or passage of safety. You have second vone for now, I am thinking. Eat. Might be here for a time."

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It was strange, hearing Elizaveta insist that they dress as commoners. Mary hadn't really taken a close look at her social standing in quite some time. It simply hadn't occurred to her that she wasn't a commoner. Mary was born into the family of a hereditary Knight, technically a member of the nobility, but that was rendered quite a moot point by the deaths of the male members of her family and their holdings in Stirling put under the custody of the Crown. She had been placed with extended family for a time who seemed to despise her, merchants who gladly shuffled her away to the Church the moment the opportunity presented itself. Her formative years were spent with the Swiss Guard and the clergy of Rome, learning humility and how to do remarkable, violent things with the Lord's blessing. She couldn't even take a secular title anymore, not unless the Church gave their blessing.

Oh, Mary had title. One that she fought and bled for, unlike the vast majority of the Ton. She earned the right to be called Dame, and most recently, she added Commander to the list for the purpose of protecting the common good. As for Arch Graveolase? She didn't earn that one. It was dropped upon her by the dying words of Lord Buckingham. It was a burden. Though she had not paid the cost associated with this authority, Mary had the feeling that she was going to. Still, the young Apostolic did not feel that she was of noble class. Not anymore. But the truth of it, the bare, rough truth, was that if nothing else, she was the daughter of a Knight of the British Empire. Even though it was bottom-rung, it was a position of noble bearing. She spent her earliest years in a smaller castle of stone and brick, did not have to labor during that time, and never wanted for food nor friendship. It was halcyon. It was humbling.

"Yes of course. Thank you, Your Grace." she said quietly and accepted the bundle of clothing from Elizaveta. She did take her up on her offer to use the changing screen, making her way over to the moveable partition and stepping behind it. It felt strange, removing the trappings of her profession. There were the type of clothes that she had worn for a long time now; the entirety of her adult life. Similar garb when she was in Training with the Vatican. It had taken a step to the finer since becoming a representative of the Vatican and a Papal Knight, granted, but it was tough, it was functional, and it was suitable for wearing for extended periods of time. To embark upon a mission in this manner seemed almost like she was hiding her affiliation with the Vatican, a thing which she was not find of, not one bit. On the other hand, the mission could not begin until they got out undetected. She would be noticed, unless she resorted to true stealth. That was not the best option either, and infinitely more difficult with her horse in tow. Determined expression on her face, Mary quickly changed and reused the burlap wrapping to secure her cassock and other articles of clothing.

Mary looked down at herself after she had changed. This was a strange feeling for her, dressing as such. She looked a bit like the woodsfolk that the Crown might use to patrol their forests, or one of the yeomen that the Knights would employ as military scouts. She stepped back out from behind the screen, cautiously at first, but slowly becoming more comfortable with the new attire. A thought struck her, and she gathered her hair back as best she could, hiding it underneath the hood of her riding cloak. "There are few with hair like mine in London, and none within the boundaries of the Circus. It would give us away." She looked to her halberd, this time sighing. That would definitely stand out. Mary might have to get creative.

"As might a dappled grey stallion and a formidable white tiger. I should not wish to cause alarm to any of your people, Grand Duchess, but perhaps a distraction of some kind is warranted?" Mary had yet to get to her horse, Cassius. Another hurdle to be overcome without being seen. The sooner that they had this done and got onto the open road, the better in Mary's estimation. She began buckling on her weapons underneath her cloak, ready to get moving.

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Thalken's dark eyed gaze turned to Ludwig as the lanky man bobbed, buckled, and stumbled over to him. It was hard to initially decipher what his thoughts were on whom he assumed was the proclaimed Master Zimmer. His whole body remained tense, though he kept his facial expression purposefully blank in an attempt to hide how vulnerable he felt. The hair on the back of his neck rose as he could basically feel everyone's eyes on him like unrelenting knives, and then, of course, there was the matter of the armed guards circled around him, which only served to further unsettle him. He was holding himself together, but only by a thread.

One thing was for sure, if Ludwig truly wished to cheer Thalken up, he really needed to reevaluate his methods. Because while some would probably look on at the spectacle that was Ludwig in shock, bewilderment, or maybe even concern, the mad man that was Thalken was only getting madder. His eyes narrowed dangerously. What. The. Hell. he thought irritably. Is this some kind of sick joke? Do they think this is just some kind of game to me?! His hands, which were still clenched into fists at his sides, began to shake. His increasingly tense and shaking form only made it seem as if there was an internal struggle warring inside him, but that's because there was.

Holding onto a mere sliver of his sanity at this point, Thalken was about to let rip some potentially nasty words when The Great Bazhooli's voice penetrated his haze. His gaze swung over to openly glare at the imposing man. "WHAT?!" he spat. His gaze then went down to the outstretched cup of alcohol, and some of the air, and with it his anger, whooshed out of him. Oddly enough, he wasn't usually the type to drink, as he preferred to keep his wits about him at all times. However, right now, a drink couldn't have come at a better time. He needed to take off some of his edge, and he could most certainly use some liquid courage right now.

With a sigh, he took the drink from Vladimir. He then quickly took a potentially larger gulp of the potent liquor than he should have. He sputtered, barely managing to get it all down, as it quickly burned a path down his esophagus and into his stomach. God damn, that's strong. he thought with a grimace. He glanced around as he got his coughing under control. Upon remembering again why he was here, he gladly took another generous gulp of the alcohol. Soon after, he took the wrapped food that Vladimir handed to him but didn't speak until he was certain he could keep his alcohol down. "I-I'm not here to play games," he finally exclaimed as he once again found his voice. "I am here to--make amends, if that's even possible."

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Listening to Colette, Millicent found herself smiling slightly. It was good that Colette had someone willing to be there for her. It reminded her of one she was close to that seemed to be willing to do anything for her she asked. Dear Mr. Connolly had always been there for her since he was hired by her father. He seemed to endure through everything her mother had thrown at him, no matter how the woman spoke to him or treated him he continued. She never doubted that as each morning came that he would be there and she would have someone to speak with for the day. He was uncommonly kind and seemed to always know when she needed gentle word of reassurance.

Then the smile faded at the thought that she might never be able to see him again or speak to him as they once did. Soon she would be wed, and she doubted her new husband would allow her such freedoms as to wander down to a stable to speak with the stable hand. More than that, would Richard even allow her to keep Mr. Connolly and the rest of her own staff? Or would she be forced to use his staff. What of her family, even if her mother and sister did not get along with her they were still family. Would she see them? So many questions came through her mind.

Looking over to Colette she forced the smile to return. "Such a person that you can count on is a wonderful thing to have." It was all she could think to say without bringing too much attention to herself. Richard and Thomas were speaking on ships and trade. Ships... her father. Once married Rutherford would take over, she could only hope that he wouldn't ruin them. Perhaps he would let her continue working as she had been, she did know the business, she had been running it.

For now that would have to wait as the course changed and ore food was brought out. It was the second of seven, this was going to be a long evening but that was how these things went. The plating was small, as to not fill one up too quickly, they were slow to allow for speaking, and they were many to ensure by the time you finished you wanted to do nothing but crawl into bed and sleep until it was digested. (This was also why so many kitchens had to remain open all night for once you woke in the middle of the darkest hours your stomach was ready for more. Rich foods filled you but kept you wanting more.) Good thing they were not in Rome...

"Do you have any plans while you are in the city or are you open?" Millicent eventually asked as the courses were changed out. She was trying to keep the speak light and easy for now, at easy as she could make it that was. It was hard, she wanted to tell Colette a few things but they were nothing she could speak of there in front of Rutherford. Or Thomas for that matter. While she had dealt with him before she was not sure she could trust him to speak her mind freely. So much was up in the air and she had to play it carefully. The only reason she felt she could tell Colette was because the woman was not a local.

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As the Grand Duchess changed she began to wonder to herself how they were going to be able to get away without being noticed. And now there was the added issue that Virginia did not have skill with riding. This would mean a slight change of plans. They couldn't just the three of them take a mount and rush off. Granted Veta couldn't just take any mount. She couldn't ride a horse, she didn't have the skill for it but she did have a skill, a certain skill, a particular set of skills. One that involved a tiger and Myska was as close a companion as she could have in the four legged furry kind. It wasn't that she could ride, it was that Myska would not let her fall. It was one thing for him to carry her or to carry small children but two women that would be too much.

"You are most velcome. Ve vill leave the papers here, Sister Sophia vill find them vhen she checks in here later. If ve are lucky it vill ot be until then that it is discovered that ve have departed." Yes, departing. And Mary was bringing up some wonderful points. The Red hair was rare. Granted not as rare as the woman might think. There were others in the Circus with red hair, and plenty with much stranger colors they had given themselves. Hair would not cause too much attention t be paid. At least not as much as a nun walking around with weapons would. Now that was a horse of a different color.

"Da, a distraction, that was vhy I thought to send the one knovn as Thalken to Master Ludvig. If anyone vithin these tents vould drav attention to themselves it vould be that interesting German fellov. That and one other thing...." she said as a small smile came to her lips. It seemed that the woman had been up to more than just putting on a good show during the presentation. Elizaveta thought back...

Everyone was preparing and there was little time left. With the arrival of Virginia, with the vision of Millicent, so much had changed. She knew she had to leave and with Mary at her side, if not more. But no matter who came with her there was more that could not, there was an entire circus that could not know she had left until it was far too late to stop her. For she loved her people, her family within the Circus, she would not put them at more risk. Not wanting them to come to hard played along side the fact that if they knew travel with the Circus would be far slower than just a small party.

So the Grand Duchess had gotten to work. The woman didn't have many of the skills that most in the Circus did but she had watched them enough times to know what things triggered things going wrong. Such as lamps in the wrong place and ropes just far enough out of reach to not catch fire but to dry slowly and become brittle enough to finally snap at the most inopportune time.

"Hurry, please, it vill not be long until ve have such a distraction, ve vill have to move quickly," she said as she finished pulling her boots on and quickly moved over towards Myska. "Ve go out the back, to the back of the city where the stables are, retrieve your horse and then ride north. Mary, please make sure Virginia is vith you, Myska cannot carry both myself and another adult," she explained as she through a dark and worn cloak on and pulled it over her golden hair, tucking it back.

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Beets, beets, the magical fruit. The more you eat the more you toot. The more you toot the better you feel. Make sure to eat beets at every meal. Wait, beets weren't fruit, they were a vegetable. They could make you toot though. Oh yes, toot away. Like on a trumpet or a trombone or even on a tranhozzenfangle. Oh and there you could have a beet, a sick beat, poor unfed harvested beat, yes, drop that sick beet and tap your feet.

And so the man did, standing there as his thoughts went off into cloud that would have been pink and purple and full of garblesnatchers if there were such things. Maybe there were, there could be. A dance and a dip and a toe tap, dropping that sick beet, not beat. Maybe meat, oh yeah meet - he needed to meet someone. Wait he did. He met Mr. Talk.

"You spoke! Yes to that! I hear you Mr. Talk. I heard you. Yes. No games but we could play a game. games are most fun and will not make you mad," he said as he drummed his fingers along his journal. He was still dancing, it was amazing he hadn't rolled his ankles as of yet. Was the mans body made of rubber?

"They do not like mad people so perhaps a game of Natcklewangle in a moment. I could so for a good game of Natcklewangle. When we are done."

Done but done with what. What was there do to but to eat and play games - all sorts. Perhaps the man needed a spoon full of sugar to help the medicine go down. Did he need medicine? Perhaps but right then the mans face looked like he had just taken a large dose of Bobblegarble. Most foul that stuff was, could choke a dead calf and a half. And make one bend, to bend and to turn, to turn and to bend, bend until one broke, you would need to be mended then. Mend, Amends!

"Amends, two mends, three mends go, to and fro, stop ad go, that's what makes the world go round, in and out, thin and stout, that's what at makes the world go around. For every high there is a low, for every too there is a fro and that's what makes the world go round!" Ludwig sung.

The man would have kept singing but it was cut short as the loud sound of a rope snapping somehow managed to echo through the tent. Then there was another. And another. And then suddenly the big top came down. Thankfully it was just the lower layers of cloth that were used to hide what lay above between shows and during set ups but it was enough to be heavy and make it nearly impossible to move. Tent fabric wasn't exactly light weight. Ludwig looked up as the stripes of fabric came washing down. "Well isn't this maddening, we should amend this..." he said as he flittered and flashed into a fairy and flew beneath the table of food where he found his two little friends eating and speaking of pirates. "I am A Tinker and this is a cave of wonders!"

It was all in good fun - for them at least. For everyone else it was a cluster fuck. "Nov, go, move quickly," Elizaveta said before darting out of the back of the tent with Myska at her side.

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Colette let the course be taken away as she awaited the next one to be brought out. This was to stimulate conversation and she was happy it was with Millicent. She had a feeling if she was forced to talk to either of the Lords she would be bored out of her mind. Men never truly held conversations well. They were only really good for one thing and that was not polite dinner conversation.

Her thoughts raced to her maid who was home alone. While she was confident the woman could take care of herself (Soulless be damned) she was still concerned. "Yes, she is one I most rely on, especially being far from home."

When Millicent brought up any plans, she had to admit she had not considered such things. What was she to do during her days here? Sure, she could go for walks, perhaps do some shopping, attend other parties, but she would still have many days of nothing. And she would not be content to sit in a room and sew or read. "Telling the truth, I have no plans. I am open, it seems." She wondered if Millicent was going to suggest something they could do together. She was anxious to talk to Millicent alone away from the men.

Constantin was no really amused by the whole situation he found himself in and he was actually just a step away from feeling bad about actually waking up from those nightmares. As fun and entertaining a circus celebration was, he just could bring himself to feel good right now. The bad dreams had roused his negative emotions and also caution. Something was lurking in the shadows of this city, something grand and evil. It appeared as if it had saturated the very city, engulving them from every side, covering it like a veil, not allowing them to see the reality of it. Soulless were within this city and hten they vanished just like that. He highly doubted the ones who were at that event were the only ones. Then a soulless of unknown origin attacked them at their very doorstep, nearly killing Veta.

“Hov do I fight something that's flying avay from me...” He mumbled, recalling the beast. Actually it might not be right to call it a beast even. Beast was something that had no sentience. This thing was a monster. It was as monstrous as any soulless. Evil and probably cunning... where did it come from though? He fell into deep thought again as the celebration was going on around him, not minding the talking going around. He took a sip from his cup, the wine filled his mouth, making him smile a little, before frowning again.

There was also that mist that filled the whole area making it impossible to see and extinguishing the torches as if it was nothing. The dense mist... there was also the ice. Maybe this soulless had multiple abilities? That was a likely scenario indeed, his bad feeling was not leaving him dammit.

As it has passed and as it had been felt, the bad feeling indeed became reality!!! The tent cloth was coming down! By the time he realized what had happened there was... CLOTH! It was heavy!" Vhy is this happening to me today!?!"