Virginia nodded, hoping that she would have returned to inform James of everything that would come to pass before another took it upon themselves to do so. Had they the chance, she would have gone and explained to him that he would be living with the Circus - his family by blood and spirit - and to reassure him that she was not abandoning him, that he was not a monster. He was her favorite little devil and she only wanted what was best for him. The life the Circus could provide, she hoped, would fulfill that desire.
She then smiled a bit with amusement as Elizaveta mentioned the promise of a distraction - one that she said would be provided by Ludwig. There was something about the German man that caught her eye and caused her thoughts to dwell on him one moment longer than she would with any other man or woman - perhaps with the exception of the dearly departed Mosi. She nodded and drew her own cloak over her head, tucking her light brown-blonde hair back. She knew that for her, her most salient feature was the paleness of her skin. The cloak would help to shroud and obscure her complexion.
"Marvelous," Virginia complimented with a whisper, as they darted outside of the tent and saw the main tent come crashing down. She then quickly followed Veta, not knowing herself the exact route that they would need to take - she hadn't spent much time at the Circus, after all.
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) Front Gate -> Main Tent Skills:Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English
"Обман! Предательство! Мы были сбиты с пути!"1 shouted the imposing form of The Great Bazhooli as the thick and colorful fabric of the inner tent collapsed from its rope moorings and began to settle around him. In true and austere form fitting a man of his upbringing and station, the legendary performer quickly halted the voicing of his outrage and the suspicions arising therefrom to throw back the entirety of his goblet of aromatic, late harvest wine. As the final drops were shaken from its rim, the tent cloth finally landed upon him, its deceptive weight pressing his arms down to his sides and wrenching the cup from his hand.
Vladimir was dead certain that this Talink fellow had something to do with it. It made little sense otherwise. He was already acting in a manner that was suspicious, skulking about the front gate like an unwelcome visitor, only to be allowed in after Elizaveta put forward her thoughts on the matter. Now that made no sense to him. He was of the family that made threats against the Lady Crypt, now revealed to be of a branch of his own family's progenitor line. And now this man was led into the heart of their transitory home, only to follow up with this highly distracting event. No. No, he must find a way out of this canvas Bastille and see to the business of his Family and his Circus. Vlad would get to the bottom of this, no matter how many times he would have to engage in the less subtle aspects of knifery more akin to "push in, pull out, repeat 'till dead". Oh yes, he would get to the bottom of this chicanery. But first...
It was too cumbersome to go for his saber right now, engaged as he was in the folds and seams of the tent fabric. But a knife? Oh yes. He had many about his person; it was a very few mild muscle movements for him to draw one near to his hand and find a seam to which he would apply it. He had hoped for a seam. It was easy to repair and the awl-marks would guide whichever roustabout was tasked with its mending. Vlad pressed the tip of his blade into it with surgical precision, parting the strings that held it taut. Short popping sounds issued and Vladimir could feel the cool rush of fresh air reaching him, informing him of his success in escaping whatever paltry trap this was. "A foolish thing to attempt, try to restrain Great Bazhooli!" he called with as much dramatic flourish he could out into his voice, given the circumstances "I vill find, an I vill get truth! Da, ve have vays!"
The Great Bazhooli grabbed either side of the seam, somewhat awkwardly with his right hand as it was also encumbered with a blade, and gave a great heft. Strings parted, albeit with effort. The canvas partition was made to withstand a lot of trauma. Just not at a broken seam. It was then that he realized that he could not tell one lump underneath the cloth from another. So much as he would have loved to take a tent pole to the nearest body, he was unable to differentiate one person from another, shrouded as they all were. No, he would have to help before he got his answers, and that guy Talink was likely just as trapped as everyone else. For now. Fine, help people now, find out the truth, celebrate even later.
This evening was becoming highly annoying.
1 = Deceit! Treachery! We have been led astray!
Sister Mary Ignatia Hale
"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park), Veta's Tent -> Stable area Skills: Horseback Riding
The uproar coming from elsewhere in the Circus gave Mary pause. It was not exactly what she had in mind, but as long as no one was hurt nor unduly inconvenienced, it would have to suffice. She had done worse, granted, but not to people who had given her shelter. The only thing that kept her from voicing some manner of objection was the fact that their need was great, and an innocent needed their help. Mary had her suspicions, after the attack at Almack's. So far as she was concerned, this fell precisely in the realm of something that she needed to investigate.
To that end, she gave a sharp nod to Elizaveta's request to make for the stables, and ensure that Virginia was with her. She had a fine horse waiting on her that probably wanted desperately to hit an open field and push itself, kicking up clods of dirt and grass behind it. As the Grand Duchess darted off, Mary followed suit. It was a short sprint to the back of the Circus; the young Apostolic knew where to go. She bore her bundle of vestments in the same hand as her halberd, leaving one free to reach for Virginia. "This way, Virginia!" she called subtly, using an element of informality purely for the sake of speed and convenience. "You are with me, my Lady."
Mary made her way back to the stables at brisk, solid pace, and quickly located her horse Cassius. She threw her saddle and bags over the grand beast's back, securing everything with the quick, practiced movements of an experienced rider. She was a Knight, and this was her trusty steed, were it put to writing for future generations to ponder over. Mary then swung herself atop Cassius and held out a hand for her friend Virginia. For once in a great while, Mary had a beaming look that was close to excitement, were she to allow herself the luxury of strong emotion. "I've got you, Lady Crypt. By your leave, let us find the road north."
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent Skills: None, clearly.
The sound of Ludwig incessantly jabbering on was grating on Thalken's last nerve. He turned to fully face the obnoxious German, intending to glare at the man in hopes of silencing him, but even that slight movement made his head spin and his stomach lurch. He staggered forward to keep himself from falling over, causing some of the liquor to slosh out of his cup. It seemed that the negative effects of the alcohol were already kicking in and god awfully fast. So much for liquid courage. It felt more like waking up from a liquid coma. Either this insanely potent stuff or he was just a total lightweight. Or maybe it was just a volatile combination of the two. "Goosghm damnitsghes," he attempted to curse but it only came out as a slur. He lifted a hand to hold his head but only ended up smacking himself in the face with the wrapped meat. One thing was certain, if his twin sister Thalcona had been here, she would be highly amused by this turn of events.
The sounds of rope snapping vaguely penetrated his haze but not nearly as much as The Great Bazhooli's shouting did. His head swiveled to face the direction that he thought Vlad was in. It was really hard to tell at this point because everything just looked like something more akin to abstract art. "Whaa--?" he sputtered as he swayed on his feet. Through squinted eyes, he could barely make out people staring up at something. He cocked his head upwards just in time to see, well sort of see, thick cloth falling down from above. Considering how unsteady he was on his feet as is, there was nothing keeping him upright when the heavy weight of the cloth hit him. The items he was somehow still holding onto in his stupor were wrenched from his grip as he face planted onto the ground. He let out a low groan after the ground seemed to come up fast to smack him hard in the face and the cloth quickly enveloped him in a not so loving embrace.
Location: Dining Hall -> Conservatory, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England Skills: Class Knowledge (Peer), Court Etiquette, House
Millicent nodded and left it at that. The meal was going by simply enough. Richard and Thomas were speaking of this and that, exchanging tales of when they were kids and laughing. Millicent ate but ate just enough not to be bothered or draw attention to herself it seemed. Her head stayed down and she was a shadow of her former self. Just the day before she had held her head high, danced with Fyror and enjoyed herself. Yet that was yesterday which made it the past and right now the past seemed like a dream and now seemed like a nightmare. Granted she knew it could be worse than it was, she had lived through worse, much worse, recently. So she took it in silent stride as dinner was completed and the men excused themselves to the drawing room for a round of cards.
"The conservatory, I wish to sketch some of the stunning flora that was in the greenhouse," Millicent stated as Rutherford pulled out her chair and helped her to stand. He nodded and kissed her cheek. One could see the ice flow suddenly through her veins yet she plastered on a look of enjoyment that melted away quickly once Richard and Thomas were out of sight.
"If you would care to join me, I would love to include you in my sketches. You have the most stunning cheekbones," Millicent said as she motioned towards the door and then started walking to exit the dinning room. She had to make a quick stop by the room she had been told would be hers this evening to retrieve a pad and charcoals. After that, she went to the Conservatory and found a spot near the back where there was plenty of light and in all honesty solitude and privacy. It was safer that way.
Elizaveta Romanova
Location: Stables, Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England Skills: English, Zverey, Agility
While Millicent may have been thinking of safety, Elizaveta was thinking of anything but that as she moved quickly through the circus and to the stables. She did not need to go there but it was best if the three of them stayed together. She did not like the fact that she had to run off like this, and less that she could not even leave a note explaining. The circus would be in an uproar when they found she was gone but she could leave no bread crumbs, no trail. If she did there was a chance that their talented riders would catch up with her and Mary and Virginia and stop them, or worse, insist on coming with them.
"Ve vill send vord ve are safe once ve have distance on our side," she said as she climb on top of Myska and held on for dear life. She had a feeling that both women had people they would need to inform of at least something and soon. Especially Virginia because of her brother. Yet there was no time and Elizaveta was sure that James would be fine with the Circus. She had made sure to leave the papers in a place that they would be easily found. James would be protected and taken care of by the Circus. They would die for him, that was how they were. Even if it had just been a contract they would have looked after him but now knowing he was family, they would happily die for the boy.
"North, quickly. It von't be long before the distraction raises alarms," Veta said before patting Myska and speaking in her native tongue. With that they were off and rushing out the northern back end of the Circus where none were right then. Elizaveta had timed it well and the dice were with them. Their exit from the circus would go unnoticed for now. Mary, lead the vay, you knov England far better than I."
Ludwig Zimmer
Location: (Under) Food Table, Main Tent, Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries, Kielkropf
"And the walls came a tumbling down, down down the hole we go, where it stops no one knows for knowing is half the battle, a battle of wits that is inconceivable but I do not think it means what you think it means, beans, magic beans, magic through the winds and through the tress to send one to his knees. bow bow and avast ye mates for the walls came a tumbling down."
And down they did come, yet he was safe as he flittered about. Nothing could stop him, he was a leaf on the wind but they couldn't see how he soared for one couldn't exactly soar under a table which was under the cloth of a tent but he was still glad, never mad. This was maddening but he wasn't mad. He could never be mad for if he was it would prove them right and he couldn't have that, so he was glad, glad, never mad. No mad, but perhaps a hat could be good right then, a hat to pull a rabbit from, and have some tea. Or yes tea, nine and three quarters of an ounce of tea, until it grew cold, then only half a cup but then would need a new cup. Could he get a new cup or would he have to change seats. What seats, he was fluttering.
He was fluttering and flying, like a butterfly not like a raven, ravens were dark and black and went straight but he could go all ways. Up ways and side ways and back ways and front ways and all the ways. Not like a raven, not like a writing desk but they both did have legs, two of them, was that how they were alike, why would anyone care? Were they mad perhaps? Stark raving mad? Well if they were they were not him for he wasn't mad, he was glad and he fluttered under the cloth and called out. "To the top of the mountain, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"
Location: Heaton Hall, Ladies Room; Manchester, England Skills: Language -English, House, Court Ettiquette
Colette was enjoying the meal more than she was letting on. It was nice to have reminders of home during her stay away. She would not admit it, but she was somewhat homesick. No, she would not be going back anytime soon, but it was a place she was fond of. However, her time here was not unpleasant. She was warmly welcomed by others though she was new to the country.
Millicent was among them. She found herself fascinated and wished to know more about her. There was more than the woman was letting on, but Colette knew all too well how it was often best to button your lip. When the option came to get time alone away from the men, Colette was ready to jump at the chance. Though a small blush crept on her cheeks from the compliment. "Oh, thank you. I would be happy to meet with you later."
Once they were finished, Colette exited the dining room and was prepared to make her way to the conservatory. She stopped a servant to ask for directions before she found her way there, stopping to greet other guests who asked about her. It was tiring, but politeness must be maintained, especially as she was a guest. She entered the conservatory and noted Millicent's reaction to it. The flora was stunning. She was a fan of flowers in general. Their beauty was easily captured. She could see why Millicent wished to sketch.
She searched for the woman and found her near the back. "I can see why you like it in here. It truly is beautiful." Colette had a feeling there was more to this meeting than sketching flowers and her cheekbones, but she would let Millicent speak if she wanted to. Colette took a seat nearby some flowers and waited.
Constantin was cursing in his mind as he was covered by the rather heavy cloth now. It hindered his movement, made it near impossible to see, obstructing him in nearly all ways possible. Why did he get out of bed? He so regretted it right now, he almost preferred the nightmare to this. Bazhooli's voice boomed as usual, the chaos was complete it seemed and he was not happy about that.
As he reached for his hip to pull his sword and cut through this, he realized he did not in fact have his sword with him. He had taken it off for the performance earlier and after going to bed and waking up he had not picked it up again.” You've got to be kidding me...” He mumbled in annoyance before rummaging around the table he was sitting at, blindly until finally finding what he needed, which was a knife.
He grabbed the cloth, pierced it with the sharp knife from the table and cut his way out. Seeing the people from outside the cloth and their movement underneath made it all look surreal.” Vho vas it?! Vho dared?!” This time he really felt like killing someone. Killing someone in a slow manner that is.
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) Front Gate -> Main Tent Skills:Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English
There were calls of alarm coming from underneath the canvas and rigging, mainly from the friends and relatives of the boisterous man known to the rest of the world as The Great Bazhooli. Truly, this was a thing which rightfully raised alarm. There was only one hitch: It seemed impossible to him that all of the supporting ropes gave away simultaneously. Something had to be the cause of this mischief. Or someone.
First, his suspicions turned to the very person who had insisted upon meeting the Lady Crypt in the first place. That impudent, disrespectful Englishman who was barely a man in years, despite his insistence at being taken seriously. But no, unless this were some elaborate ruse designed to catch the Circus off guard by burying himself in tent canvas, he probably wasn't the one responsible. Or he wasn't stuck at all, having narrowly escaped by some means unknown to him, putting either James or his big sister Virginia at risk from retaliation by this Talink fellow. Well, last he saw, Lady Crypt was with the Scary Catholic Girl. While very young yet, she seemed capable with her long, pointy weapon. But the little brother was unattended, except for the attentions of that jabbering Ludwig man and the other child; the waif that Mary had saved from a Ryne attack just the day before.
Vladimir did not know much about the abilities of the mad German. Perhaps if he did, he would have had more confidence in him to protect the children from potential harm. But as it sat, he did not. He did suddenly hear a smattering of words that made little sense to him, spoken in a notable Teutonic accent. As best as he could tell, it was coming from across the clearer area a bit, underneath the large lump that used to be a table laden with foodstuffs for the consumption of celebrating Circus performers. Now, it made an interesting Table of Random Insanity. Plus the children, he hoped.
Discretion being the better part of valor, or a similar sentiment to it, Vlad carefully began picking and stepping his way toward the mass that was the food table. It wasn't a long walk by anyone's standards, nevertheless care had to be taken to avoid stepping on or near any of the wiggling lumps of person and cloth along the way. When finally upon the sought-after lump, The Great Bazhooli debated the necessity of finding a seam to pop open, run to the edge to attempt to pry the whole canvas back, or merely create an opening with his ever-present handful of sharpened steel.
Apparently, someone else had the idea to create their own opening, thusly escaping their temporary confinement. Constantin, as it turned out. And he appeared enraged. This was good. Vladimir didn't want to be the only one. "Я вижу тебя, Константин!"1 he began in his native Russian, "Я не знаю, кто несет ответственность, но у меня есть подозрения! Пожалуйста, я выведу детей отсюда, организуете ли вы этих людей, чтобы вернуть холст?"2 And then booming in plain and clear English, that his voice might be heard over the clamor and din of the occasion. "The rest ov you have orders! Vhen tent peels back, you know vhat to do! You, under table! Back to other side, vill have to cut. Now!"
Vladimir wasted no more time putting a blade into the canvas and drawing it across. This was no opening of a seam. The cloth was thick and strong, and even the sharpest of blades required a bit of muscle to make a passable aperture. "Viscount James, Masters Adam and Ludvig." His voice took a bit of a down note, raspy and quieter now that he had direct line of sight. "Ve have to get you out ov here. Come." he outstretched his hand, ready to help the first person climb out from underneath the table. His other hand found its way underneath the canvas still covering the table and awkwardly pulled out a platter, still mostly laden with meat pies, sausages, and fried sugar beets (on a stick!), proclaiming, "Have supper. Ve go now." If that Talink guy was still underneath the canvas, he would be just fine until Vlad could get these people back to his personal vardo.
1 = I see you, Constantin! 2 = I don't know who is responsible, but I have my suspicions! Please, I will get the children out of here, will you organize these people to get the canvas back?
Sister Mary Ignatia Hale
"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park), Veta's Tent -> Stable area Skills: Horseback Riding
The idea that they would send word back to London gave Mary a considerable note of relief. A messenger from the next major city up would be ideal. Were she anywhere in Europe but England, it would be the amazingly simple matter of stopping into any Catholic holding and petitioning the clergy present to utilize the Trained skill of Pundanti, sending a message across the distance to St. Etheldreda's who in turn would dispatch someone to the Circus, delayed if necessary to buy them more time. That being barred, a page boy or friar carrying a message on foot would be acceptable. But they were not in a nation that generally accepted the Papacy, thanks to one dissatisfied king in their history who was denied the option to divorce by the Pope, after he had allowed it a few times prior. No, the three of them would likely have to rely on more secular methods, barring a more or less benign Anglican chapel that staffed a person of Vatican Training.
Then the thought flashed across Mary's mind that she was the Arch Graveolase, if interim, and could order the action done so long as news of her appointment had reached their holdings. Considering the methods of communication available to them, it was very possible. Next city up. Now, they had to discreetly exit the Circus and head north before they could find that chapel in that city that was a respectable distance away.
Sister Mary, or more appropriate to this instance, Dame Commander Hale clasped Virginia's wrist as she held onto hers, pulling her onto Cassius behind her. She seemed to fit decently between the Apostolic and the full saddlebags, well enough so that Mary was satisfied her friend would not be too uncomfortable and could hold on with minimal effort. Nimble hands guided the reins, silently commanding the dappled grey stallion out of the stable area, out of the discreet exit chosen by Veta and toward northward the edge of The Regent's Park. Mary's eyes were bright and breathing quickened just a little with the excitement of the moment. She was on a mission for the most noble of purposes. She might even have to include this in her next confession, as it bordered upon Pride.
Elizaveta's words imparted a sense of responsibility, even faith in her, which Mary took as sincere compliment. Of course, she would know more about the geographical lay England than the Grand Duchess, but in truth, she did not know it extremely well. She actually spent most of her younger years in Scotland, not England, though she did know a little about the major roadways, having traveled them while being shuffled away to her distant family in France. Those roads would be their best bet to get to Gretna Green as efficiently as possible. Mary had been through Gretna before, on her way down from Stirling. It was a traumatic time for a young girl, one that she remembered with uncommon clarity. Mary could indeed show them the way.
Mary checked back to make sure Virginia was secure behind her, adding a quiet, "Hold on, My Lady." She nudged Cassius forward, past Elizaveta and her great white tiger, Myshka. Until they reached the level, open ground of the main road, Mary dared not push her horse forward with anything faster than a trot. Confidence brimmed in her voice as she addressed Veta, "Thank you, Your Grace. By your leave." It was a formality, really. Mary made sure her halberd was secured properly in the horse's tack just prior to reaching paved ground and leaned to whisper something into Cassius's ear. As soon as shod hoof clacked upon hard ground, Mary dug in her heels and prompted the noble animal to rush off with an increasing rush of speed. They were finally underway, leaving the color and wonder of the Circus behind.
Virginia was comforted as well that word would be sent back - it would surely reach her brother. She could then perhaps send instructions for Alfred as well. He may have been a butler, but he was practically family. He had helped to raise Virginia and now, he was raising James as well. Virginia wished for him to be informed, just in case Alfred would decide to see if he could throw his lot in with the circus as well. She had become distracted by her thoughts and only removed herself from them once Mary had seen to it that she was securely seated.
"You need not address me as my lady," Virginia said with a smile, yet she did as instructed and she held on. She hadn't any skills in riding and she had no desire to be trampled to death by a horse. While it had made the short list in her favorite ways to die, she wasn't in a rush to shuffle off her mortal coil. And there was something exhilarating about riding as well, with Virginia wishing that she had been taught such a skill. Perhaps that would be something she could be instructed in, once these dangerous times had come to an end.
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent Skills: None, clearly.
Thalken slowly attempted to push himself up off the ground, the cloth weighing heavily on his uncoordinated form. He awkwardly shimmied himself back onto his haunches, having to focus harder on that simple movement than would normally be deemed necessary. In his current stupor, he didn't have the strength or coordination to keep himself balanced in a crouched position, so he ended up falling back down on his ass. It rattled his head in the process, making him feel a tad sick to his stomach as the world spun and morphed around him. Well, at least he was sitting now. It was the best he could manage at the moment what with this annoying cloth overhead, oh yeah, and the alcohol coursing through his system. He had almost forgotten about that.
He attempted to use his sleeve to wipe off the sand that was still stuck to the side of his face, but he ended up looking more like he was dabbing. Hey, maybe he invented that dance. Anything's possible. Wait, where was he again? His features scrunched up for a moment as he tried to sift through the fogginess in his head to recall the answer. Oh yeah, he was under some kind of cloth. He reached up and touched the hefty cloth above his head, seemingly testing its consistency. Yup, fabric.
His blurry eyed gaze then tried to take in what he could of his dim surroundings. If it weren't for the holes that were cut into the fabric by Vladimir and Constantin which more readily allowed light in, he would have seriously thought he had gone blind. Talk about a downer that would be. Yet, he felt anything but down right then. No, he had perhaps never felt more live. Well, maybe expect for the night before when he had chopped off that ryne's head, but that was currently far from his mind right now. Instead, a feeling of euphoria coursed through his veins as a result of the alcohol. And then something miraculous happened. Well, miraculous on Thalken standards. A lopsided grin came to his features, and he started laughing hysterically. If Thalcona had been there, she would have thought he had downright lost his mind. And maybe he had, but that was beside the point. The point was that being a total clutz was one thing, but Thalken of all people smiling and laughing as if he actually enjoyed being alive? Mind. Blown.
The laughter shook his body, and his head bobbed to a foreign beat. All of this was an entirely freeing experience. In this moment, he was finally free from the burdens that had always plagued him. The sins of his family. More importantly, his own sins. The lives he had destroyed. The blood he had shed. The screams of his victims that haunted him. It all felt like a lifetime ago just then. He had never felt so free, and yet had he been in his right mind, he would have said that he did not ever want to forget the pain, the regrets, and the guilt, as it only drove him to become better. But right then, he would laugh. He would dance. He would live.
Location: Conservatory, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England Skills: Sketching
Millicent was glad that Colette was willing to post for her. To Millicent it gave the perfect excuse for them to duck away from the rest of those at this little get together and be alone hopefully enough to be able to speak a bit. Yet Millicent wondered if she would have the gumption to tell Colette anything. The woman was living two of her worst fears right then and now that she was in the conservatory and things had calmed down she found her mind focusing on just that. It was not a pleasant feeling that went through her and in fact it was so cold suddenly that she felt herself shivering and causing herself to wrap her arms around her herself.
What were Millicents fears? One was to marry without affection and that was a destination she could see on the horizon. If they covered the same amount of distance they had this day they could be in Scotland as early as tomorrow night. That was a horrible thought. To be married to one as wretched as she felt Richard was, to be chained for the rest of her life to one that had... The thought went away and she had to push it off her like she had him. It was pressing, suffocating and it showed on her features. It was not something one could easily hide and Millicent had never been one to hide her emotions well. She wore her heart on her shoulder even if she shouldered it well.
Another fear was being out in situations that were like this. Unpredictable, out in the open, exposed. Millicent surely felt exposed just then. Like a raw nerve from a cut that was being rubbed with salt. It burned, it stung, it caused one to want to rip their skin off and crawl into the darkness. Yes, the bluestocking spinster could be bold and witty but what was the point when one had seen the first level of hell and then shown the door to the second? She missed home, she even missed her mother. At least her mouth was nothing but a mouth and the tongue it held within, while a dagger, was dull and tarnished. It could do no more harm than you let it.
Cold, it was so cold. Why was it so cold? Looking around Millicent had not even heard Colette come in and speak and it took her back a bit to see the woman there. Colette must have entered while she was in thought. "Yes, very beautiful," she said trying to drag herself out of the abyss. Standing up she walked over to Colette. "May I?" she asked as she reached out, wanting to turn Colettes head just a tad and position it so she could sketch her better. If she was allowed she would, if not she would just instruct her how to turn. It was usually easier to pose a model she had found in the past.
Turning she sat back down and picked up her sketch pad and charcoals. "Have you enjoyed yourself in England so far? The company?" she asked as she began to draw. She found herself shiver a bit which was odd, it still felt cold even in the heat of the summer. Was it actually hot anymore or was it just her mind? If the condensation forming on the glass of the windows, the temperature was actually dropping and quickly. Yet that was not completely unheard of in England this time of the year.
Elizaveta Romanova
Location: Regent Park, London, England Skills: English, Zverey, Agility
Elizaveta watched for Mary's movement and as the nun road off with her passenger the Grand Duchess nudged Myshka forward and they were off. Thankfully the stables were at the northern back most area of the circus and with the tent partially collapsing all the guards were hurrying towards the direction of the main tent. It was a small bit of luck, but it was enough for them to be able to exit the circus without being noticed. God was with them right then, Elizaveta was sure of it as they were quickly making their way through Regent Park proper. It was going to be a dangerous journey and they would be hunted down once the Circus was made aware of their exit but God was granting them a head start and she knew they had to make the most of it. Riding was not her strong suit but Myshka knew what to do and Elizaveta was agile enough to hold on.
Yet was a head start enough? Only if they could put as much distance between them as possible. Maybe, just maybe they would be lucky enough to get an hour but a direct route would make it easier for the circus to find them. Yet a less direct route would put Millicent in even more danger. Yet how much of a head start did this Rutherford have on them already. She knew not the time they left but she pressed on anyways, letting Mary pick the path. Had she known Master Ludwig knew travel routes of Europe she might have tried to take him along but he was far behind them right then and they had to keep it that way.
"Thou vho vast terrifying both in strength and in countenance, for thy Creator's sake thou didst surrender thyself villingly to them that sought thee; for thou didst persuade both them and the vomen that sought to arouse in thee the fire of lust, and they folloved thee in the path of martyrdom. And in torments thou didst prove to be courageous. Vherefore, ve have gained thee as our great protector, O great Christopher," Elizaveta recited. It was from the Kontakion in the Fourth Tone, a hymn, for Saint Christopher said by her church and others of Eastern Orothodox following. It wasn't a widely accepted thing within the Catholic Church at that time. He had only recently been accepted, some three hundred years earlier but within the church that wasn't that long ago.
Taking a breath Elizaveta noted they were on the edge of Regents park now and would soon cross over into London itself. Thing was, now they had two choices. To east and then south to the gate or west and south to the gate. They had to go the long way around for if they went straight south it would take them right back into the circus. They had to go the long way around before cutting through the city further east or west to go south. God help them.
Ludwig Zimmer
Location: (Under) Food Table, Main Tent, Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries, Kielkropf, Raips
In the shadows, lights cast on the canvas, silhouettes being shown and dark, moving like dark fireflies, stopping the light. On the candle masks and gaslights, which tumble as well. Smoke and fear embraces. Should I be worried? No, even as the smoke creeps in there is laughter, much laughter. So much, yes, laughter. He is not mad, he is glad. Mr. Talk laughs. Oh yes he laughs and I flutter. I flutter no more though for fluttering wings burn bright in the evening light and so unflutter, unbind and there he was. Large as life had birthed him to be, sitting with a grin on his lips as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and his legs crossed.
"Does she return? Oh no, the dark one does not for this is too light, and it smells. Not rotten, not happy, this is winter smells, the burn, the logs, crackle crackle." While a little off his rocker even though he rocked so well, it could be seen, a dropped tent cloth was heavy and while the rope had been burned to cut it free, it had plummeted on several. The canvas, thick and heavy catching fire. "Nope, nope, nope, nope," he said as he dug into his pocket. "Beans beans the magical fruit, the more you eat the more you freeze if you eat my beans. Cold as ice and hearts of gold, see, stop the burn, smells are mad and I am not mad but glad," he said in all seriousness as he tossed a bean here and there.
It striking the cloth and freeze both canvas and lamps. Three of them to stop the burn, three, the magical three. Thrice he was denied, thrice is crowed, thrice to the rice. Yummy grains of white and some dark with sun hues of burning fire. Yet the cloth was now cold and froze and frosty like snowmen with silk hats and coal eyes. ANd heavier, winter always made things heavier. So much heavier. Roofs and souls, black and dark in the night but sit there still and grin he did for once again his beans were everything. Such magical beans. He wished for all to see but sadly one would not for the heft was perhaps too much or was it the potato in his veins? Either way Mr Talk could laugh no more, you see, drunkenness had taken caused Nevermore, to Neverland and there in dreams he would dance on lilies and find sweeten breath, strawblonde hair, stuck somewhere between love and abuse.
Location: Heaton Hall, Ladies Room; Manchester, England Skills: Language -English, House, Court Ettiquette
Colette allowed the woman's touch. After all, if she were to model for her, she would hope she looked the part. The woman's feel was ice cold though. The room itself was no more or less cold in her opinion. In fact, she despised the summer. She would rather be cold than hot. Were there something to be able to cool a house down whenever the summer heats invaded. That person would be very wealthy.
Colette did her best to remain still. She had only ever posed once for a painting and it was boring. She enjoyed the company of Millicent far more than her stodgy aunts and uncles. "If I am speaking the truth, I have not been here long by myself. I have traveled with my father here before and have always enjoyed myself, so I believe this time will be no different. Especially if I am given as warm a welcome as I have been given today." Colette was used to people bending over backwards to make her or her family happy and she would be remiss to say she hadn't enjoyed it. However, being on her own, she didn't want people to coddle her. She had a maid for that anyway.
"How about you? Do you enjoy living here? And what of Lord Rutherford? IS he the type to wish to stay in England or does he wish to move elsewhere?" Colette wanted desperately to ask more questions than that, but she felt she was not able to do so unless Millicent brought it up herself. She would let the woman speak if she wished. The two had just met, after all.
Constantin quickly gave a nod of confirmation." Да, конечно, сразу!" Constantin replied right away as Vlad was busy taking care of the children. Though a really little curiousity rose in him if the blasted grazy german person was included in the children group. Quite possible actually, was Constantin's conclusion to that wonder, given the way the crazy german person annoyance was acting like a ten year old that ate way too much honey.
He did look amazed when the Ludwig fella did something useful for a change and stopped any possible burning areas that could have caused a huge devastation. Any person would die horribly if they were caught under a flaming tent cloth." Thank you..." He somehow begrudgingly muttered and turned around." Tе под холстом останавливают движение!" He shouted really loudly to get their attention and then called on more people pointing to one of hte side." Ve start from there and one by one pull out the people as they come up! Try not to destroy the canvas too much!" He added and quickly also got on to help the people." From this side to that side, come!" He explained. Quickest way would be to just grab one edge of the canvas and pul it towards the other, folding it on two as much as they can, freeing the people.
да, конечно, сразу= yes of course, right away. те под холстом останавливают движение= those under the canvas stop moving.
Location: Russian Imperial Circus (Regent's Park), Main Tent Skills:Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English
At first, Vladimir had no idea what the mad German was going on about. He had taken several things on faith that day and the previous, but it was starting to strain his ability to do so. Not faith in a higher power directing their activities to a noble and worthwhile end; it occurred to him that God had better things to do than oversee the meeting of a family enemy and a highly confusing man foreign to both his and London's cultures. His faith in the decisions made by those higher placed than himself within his own home, the Circus, was taking a beating.
Elizaveta was the Grand Duchess. Vladimir was next in line for a hereditary Barony, possibly more as time went by. It was his duty to follow the orders of The Grand Duchess, so long as it was not to the direct detriment of his people. That's just how it worked. Even if he did raise her as family since her tender years. And The Baron? How does one refuse one's father, who had been through everything he had also been through, who lived and ate and breathed Circus, Alexandrov, and Bazhooli for longer than even he had? He would certainly know what was best for Vladimir's people. It was just that he was unaccustomed to being overruled as it came to his Sem'ya or left in the dark as to what was going on. And if nothing else, Vladimir was certain that something was going on. He was not a stupid man, if his antics often painted him in the brighter colors of a showman.
Whether the canvas falling was Thalken's fault or no, there was a danger present. A good amount of that danger was averted when Ludwig extinguished the heavy cloth that fell atop them all. Cold was preferable, massively preferable to being burned alive. "Master Zimmer!" exclaimed The Great Bazhooli, in all of is awestriking Great Bazhooliness, "You have save-ed lives, many lives of family, and protected centerpiece tent! Vere I not to be holding things of sharpness and platter of yummy foodstuffs, I might summon strength of arms to give vith the massive of hugging! But for now, da, for the now, ve must get young vones to safe place." He indeed knew such a place. His vardo was safe enough for him most days on the road, with the added bonus of it not being the place he stayed when the Tent City was assembled. Vladimir simply did not want to say out loud where he wanted to take them, just in case.
In more serious voice, he continued, "For please, hand to me little Viscount James. You take the Adam boy, and ve go, da?"
Sister Mary Ignatia Hale
"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc Location: The Regent's Park (Outer Circle Road) Skills: Horseback Riding
The prayer from Elizaveta was a touch unexpected. Perhaps it was lingering prejudice on her part not to expect that others would have piety similar to her own. Most especially the Grand Duchess, owing to the fact that when Mary first met her (and confused her for a lesser member of titled aristocracy) she was in St. Etheldreda's, under the direct care of the Bishop, and was there in part to instruct Mary on the Trained ways of the Russians. She was not Catholic, but she was pious. Mary answered her prayer with a clear "Amen." in her serene yet strong voice. She did not care that it was not popular among Catholic teachings. It was an honest supplication to God upon setting out on a long and dangerous journey. "Christopher Sancte, Defendat."1 she returned, invoking the same saint as Elizaveta in Latin.
Virginia's insistence that Sister Mary not refer to her as "My Lady" earned her a smile from the young Apostolic. It was true, Mary had the tendency to address others in the most formal manner possible, especially now as she was leaving in a highly secretive manner to address business that involved matters both personal and professional. She was a Knight at heart; a Crusader against the darkness, and she was accompanying two members of the aristocracy on this mission. Now as she thought about it, both of them had asked her to speak to them plainly and without title, a thing that she agreed to so long as they were not in the company of others. With a shrug, Mary supposed that each others' company counted as them being alone, considering they had both made the request. "Very well, Virginia."
Upon reaching the road running a perimeter of the Park, Mary urged cover over speed, at least until they exited The Regent's Park proper. "I recommend west, Elizaveta. That route puts trees and a body of water between ourselves and the Circus. Past that we must decide which route to take out of London."
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent Skills: None, clearly.
Thalken was in his own little world of drunken bliss. His senses were dulled, and he was thoroughly oblivious to the chaos quickly ensuing around him, up to the very moment his world came crashing down. With flames beginning to engulf the heavy tent cloth a slow, painful death was sure to come. But then, everyone was suddenly gifted a miraculous escape as the crazy, crazy brilliant, German turned the flames to ice with his magical beans. Yet, Thalken was not spared a moment to revel in this wondrous change of events, as the shift in weight overhead sent him sprawling back onto the ground. Everything then went black for him when he passed out. He was quickly whipped away to a land of dreams, and nightmares...
It was a breath of fresh air, the feeling of the sun on his face and the taste of sweet freedom. He weaved and danced through fields of lilies, their colors and smells were a picture of serenity. His dark eyed gaze, which was much more inviting just then than it ever was in real life, looked ahead to catch a glimpse of straw-blonde hair. Though the woman's face constantly evaded his view as she skipped ahead of him, he could not deny feeling unnaturally drawn to her. His feet took him forward, barely of his own accord, as he devotedly followed the dancing women.
Yet, the longer he followed her the darker his surroundings became. The sun was soon blotted out as if an eclipse was taking place, and he felt a darkness creep into the very fabric of his being. He could no longer feel the soft grass caressing his bare feet but instead cool stone that allowed coldness to seep into his body. He could barely make out the woman's straw-blonde hair through the increasing darkness, but her cries of no doubt pain easily came to his ears. Her cries soon turned into screams, and he quickly covered his ears in an attempt to block out the sound, but to no avail. His vision then twisted and morphed as the woman's scream caused memories to resurface, memories of his sins he tried so hard to forget. They were memories that forever haunted him, because the truth of the matter is that reality cuts much deeper than fiction...
It was a cloudy night on the Chinese mainland. The moon sparsely illuminated the streets. Thalken stuck to the shadows, stealthly surveying the area for activity. Everything seemed quiet tonight, as most people had since gone to bed. He tightened his circle, skirting around a particular house as he kept low. He noted that there was a candlelight lit in the far side of the house. It was not surprising really, as according to his sources, the man of the house was known to work till late at night. Unbeknownst to that hardworking Chinese man, he had a bounty on his head, one Thalken was content to cash out on. It wouldn't be his first hit, and it wouldn't be his last. Why this particular individual was wanted dead, Thalken did not know. He hadn't asked, and he really didn't care. It wasn't personal. It never was to him. It was just his job, the family business, and a part of being in the Three Harmonies Society. It was how he made his living. He didn't love the job, but neither did he hate it. It was just all he knew. He did the job and he did it well. And then he got paid for it. That was that.
Thalken crouched just outside the back door, which was nearest to the occupied room. He pulled out his lock pick set and went to work quickly but quietly picking the lock whilst remaining vigilant to his surroundings. Soon enough he got through the door and was prowling the halls of the house with a knife in hand. He kept a mental note of the layout of the house and the path he took from his entry point as he followed the source of the light. He cautiously peeked his head around the corner. Thalken grimaced as the floorboard creaked below his feet, and he quickly retreated back around the corner. Nevertheless, he had managed to catch a glimpse of the side profile of the man. He was certain it was his target. With bated breath he waited, listening as the man got up and shuffled over to the hallway to investigate the sound. And the moment the man came around the corner, that's when he struck. Before the man knew what hit him, Thalken stabbed him in the side of the neck, hitting the jugular vein. A dull gurgling sound came from the man as blood filled his mouth. He slid the knife back out of the man's jugular and quickly grabbed the man as he collapsed. Thalken lowered him to the floor before swiftly leaving the way he had come in. The man bled out there on the floor and was found in the morning by his wife and two children...
The room was dimly lit and a select few individuals were huddled around one very bloody and battered man. An interrogation, of the violent sort, was underway. The man had information that the Three Harmonies Society wanted, and needless to say, he wasn't forthcoming yet. Thalken casually leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his father Beowulf's handiwork. It was business as usual, despite having not seen his father for months. This was more or less Beowulf's version of good father son bonding time. "你很難。 我會給你的，但沒有人是牢不可破的。 如果你不給我們想要的東西，那麼我們會讓別人付出代價，"1 Beowulf growled at the man in Cantonese, before turning to bark an order at his son. "Bring in the girl!"
Thalken straightened, pushing away from the wall. He gave his father a curt nod before turning to leave the interrogation room. He walked down the hallway to a cramped cell. Huddled in the far corner was a girl no older than fourteen. She started crying and shaking with trepidation as Thalken opened the cell door and stalked over to her. His dark eyes were ever ominous, only serving to exacerbate the girl's fear. "閉嘴，也許你會活著離開這裡，"2 Thalken retorted gruffly as the girl began pleading with him. He grabbed her bound wrists and roughly yanked her to her feet. He then shoved/dragged her down the hallway and into the interrogation room. The moment her eyes landed on her father's bloody and battered form her legs buckled underneath her and she began to wail with tears streaming down her face. Her father started yelling and spewing curses at Thalken and Beowulf at the sight of his beloved daughter. Thalken grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and yanked her head back before pulling out a knife and putting it to her throat. His intense gaze then came up and locked with her father's. And the look on the man's face and his and his daughter's cries for mercy were not something that Thalken would soon forget...
1 = You're tough. I'll give you that, but no man is unbreakable. If you will not give us what we want, then we will make someone else pay the price. 2 = Shut up, and maybe you will get out of here alive.
Location: Conservatory, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England Skills: Sketching
The questions that Colette posed caused Millicent to come to a still point as she held the charcoal in her hands. Never having considered Rutherford she had no idea just where he enjoyed being or if he would remain in London. It was something that had not even crossed her mind. Yet the question was out there now and she had to ponder it, at least to be able to answer it on some level. She barely knew the man other than the rumors that swirled around him and she only knew those because her sisters, well sister now, was such a gossip monger. Granted, the last twenty four hours she had spent with the man had opened her eyes and let her feel that he was far worse than any rumor that followed him.
Thinking on it, she took into account the fact she would have to wed him and her fathers holdings. They would come into his control because of the laws in the land. If her fathers company was what he was after it would mean he would have to remain in England and more than that, London itself. Yet if he were to sell it, she had no idea where they would end up. He was though a peer in England so he would most likely remain but she had heard his family had lands in Scotland as well. Would she ever see her family again? She didn't know.
Blinking she came out of her thoughts and looked over to Colette for a moment, as if studying her before looking back down at her pad and continuing to sketch. "Once we are wed I am not sure but I would assume that we are to remain in England, and spending a high amount of time in London because of my fathers shipping company. Richard will most likely want to have a hands on account of business. Whether I will be with him or in the country I am not sure. It wasn't something we discussed when we became engaged," she answered honestly. Granted she left out the part that she would rather die than to let the man get his hands on her family business but she couldn't pass to the other side because she had to remain to ensure that her sister never fell to the fate her life was now destined.
"For myself personally I do enjoy England but would prefer to spend my time in the country than to live in London. I find it far to busy for my tastes yet as the future wife of an Earl I am sure that I will have additional duties to fulfill other than the wifely kind," she added after a moment. Glancing around she got up and moved around a bit, it looked as if she was checking to see if anyone was around before turning and stepped back towards her seat. "I am glad you feel welcome here but do be careful of whom you befriend, there are wolves in sheeps clothing everywhere," she said as she sat back down. Hopefully that would be a warning for the young woman, it was all she could say then, fear was obvious in her eyes.
Elizaveta Romanova
Location: London England: Regent Park -> Corner of Portland Place & Oxford Street Skills: English, Zverey, Agility
"Yes, that seems most prudent, let us go," Elizaveta said as she leaned into Myska and let him follow Mary swiftly. She didn't take control of him or try to guide his movements. She just hung on and hoped he would follow, if she needed to have a heavier hand then she would but there was always a chance he would turn on her. This was something one came to used to when they were working with wild beats. Myska had turned on her before and she doubted it would never happen again. She had found over the years it was best to let Myska do what he needed with as little direction from her as possible.
It was in his hands but she did not fear him. She was in the hands of God and one of gods chosen as she saw it. They were on a a path now, one she felt that god had placed them on. He would protect and guide them. Yes, perhaps Virginia wasn't exactly the religious type but Mary did not know that for sure. If she was, she just wasn't vocal about it. Perhaps that was it. She just wished to be private in the matter. Religion many times for one was a personal thing and one they did not wish to speak about to others. They all had just met recently and even if the Circus had taken in her brother and they were in a sense family, they still did not know each other well. Yet they had time, this road would be long and she felt the journey would be difficult.
Thankfully for them right then, it was not. They were able to make their way out of Regent park to the west and then to start heading south. Things were going as well as could be expected and even better. Yes, the hand of god was protecting them as they made their way into London proper and through the streets. It was late now, so that make things much easier. Being able to rush through the streets on clear paths. There were only a hand full of hankeys out at this time. Much of the people that lived in this part of the city had fled and headed back to their summer homes. Everything was lining up for them and Elizaveta hoped it would continue this way. Things worked out the way they did for a reason and if they could get out of London before the Circus knew what was going on, all the better. "Jericho's is where we must cross, let us pray God continues to give us his speed."
Ludwig Zimmer
Location: Main Tent, Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth -> A WHOLE NEW WORLD! (Aka outside of the main tent) Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries
Oh yes, the world, the world of cold and ice. Hard and fragile, went and dripping when the warmth hit it. It didn't matter though, the deed had been done and for sure he was being praised. His magic beans had done the job. Beans, magical beans, magic, tricks, slight of hands, hands with fingers. finger that could count and wave and grasp. Grasping at straws. Straw that was harvested in the sun. That looked like shimmering strands of hair from giants. Straw like hair and arms hard and lean. Lean, mean, beans. Beans, magical beans. Yes, the magical beans had saved them all.
"Yes, see, y magical beans. Very good. They make so many happy. Not mad. see not mad. No time for mad when one can be so glad to have magical beans. Also good on a hot summers day. But not to cook, ever to cook, cooking magical beans is just silly. Only a crazy person would boil magical beans. Takes all the ice away," he said with a grin as his finger came up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His knees buckled slightly as he spun around and looked at the work he had done. He was a big kid now, playing with the big boys. Or at least the big top. That was good enough for him. For now.
"Yes, yes, little one, come. Let us find a whole new world!" he said as he held his hand out and it was taken. Fingers laced and steps taken. He would have gladly shown Mr. Talk the way but he was sleeping and who disturbs a sleeping man? Why only those that wanted Mad Men. Let him sleep and take him to where dreams dance, dancing with fairies. Not him of course. Perhaps in his dreams he could ride Dieter. The ferret, not his brother. His brother wouldn't like that. It would make him very mad and none were mad there. No, this was a joyous time. The fires of disaster were out and frozen in time. Frozen. So just let it go and dream happy dreams on the winds and play with lights of tomorrow, tomorrow land. Far away from here where all were glad and none were mad.
Stepping outside he looked around. There were those inside that would take care of the tent. One cutting it. Hopefully that wouldn't make Vlad mad, mad Vlad sounded bad. Very bad, very mad, a very bad mad Vlad - not glad. And outside the tent it was safe from what could be a very bad mad Vlad. Outside it was a whole new world. Or perhaps an old world he just hadn't paid attention to, he did have to enter the tent from somewhere and before one goes inside they must come from the outside. That is unless he came from inside someone to inside the tent but no. He would be covered in blood and guts and that would be bad and make him very mad. But he was neither so he had to come from the outside to the inside and outside again. He was inside out! Oh joy!
Location: Regent Park -> Corner of Portland Place & Oxford Street Skills: N/A
Virginia largely tuned out Mary and Elizaveta's session of prayer. She did not often speak of her religion, though had she been asked about it, she gladly would have gone over its details. She found that in her experience, many simply assumed that she was not Christian and thus could not have a proper religion of her own. And those that asked often just wrote her off as being pagan - it was a waste of everyone's time and confused Virginia to no end the amount of prejudice centered on religion.
Yet for some reason, she felt compelled to whisper a prayer to her patron, Veliona - the Dark Mother, the Guardian Goddess, Goddess of Death and Warden of Ancestors. It was a simple prayer that she had memorized when she was younger, knowing what it meant in English but unable to translate it word by word. She could not help but wonder what Mary would think of her religion - if she would simply label it as wickedness. She imagined that Mary wouldn't, but then again, the Crypt family never found anything particularly wrong with being wicked.
She nodded slightly at Veta's words, before mumbling a silent thanks to Veliona. She had said a soft prayer to her, and with their ease of speed, she found it only appropriate to thank her patron deity.
Location: Heaton Hall, Ladies Room; Manchester, England Skills: Language -English, House, Court Ettiquette
Colette could sense the tension after her question was asked. Truth be told, she did it to not only get an answer from the woman but to see if her perceptions were correct. There was more to this engagement than both of them led on. And that sickened her. Marriage should be equal parts in her opinion. However, more often than not, the woman got the short end of the deal. It seemed as though Millicent was destined for that path too. The woman remained as stoic as she could though, despite all that, and Colette had to give her credit.
"Your father owns a shipping business? That must have been interesting. I imagine you traveled? That is strange though, I wonder why your father's business would be passed along to Lord Rutherford. From the sound of it, you would be the ideal person to run things. But I imagine the laws of this land run similar to those back home and for that, I am sorry."
Colette watched the woman carefully as she stood up, almost as if she was looking at the foliage around them, but also for something else. Her words told her that Millicent was being cautious and rightly so. One never knew when other ears were listening. Having been the type to enjoy eavesdropping herself, she could understand that. If this was a way for Millicent to say what she felt without letting too much out, Colette, hopefully, picked up on it. "Though I am new to all of this, I have always considered myself a good judge of character. I also pride myself on keeping secrets among trusted friends."
“Добре...“ Constantin mumbled as the organization of people to take care of the fallen canvas was going quite well right now. As Bazhooli had given him the order to do this, he was damn well going to do it. It was luckily no one seemed to have been heavily injured, a testimony to the hardiness of the circus folk! All were stronger than a simple falling canvas!
Helping one of the people by lifting the canvas, trying to unstuck it from a corner of a table so they do not tear it or something.” Something's really odd about this...” He said to himself as the rescue operation was proceeding well enough. The canvas was NOT supposed to fall like that. To fall it meant someone helped it. They were going to have to check the ropes that were supposed to be holding it once all the people were pulled out from underneath it. Why did it happen now though? If the plan was to put the circus in bad situation, it would be better to bring the canvas down during the main performance earlier. This was different... He definitely had a bad feeling about all this. He had this feeling he was going to have more bad news before the night ends.
Finally he pulled his own family form underneath the canvas.” Could you go help vith the clean up. The canvas made a mess of the tables...” He asked of his mother as his father joined in with the canvas folding. He wondered where Veta was. Usually she would show up soon enough to help as any true circus person. Maybe she was busy with that catholic woman?
Location: Russian Imperial Circus (Regent's Park), Main Tent -> Just Outside of the Main Tent Skills:Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English
While Vladimir had no idea what Ludwig was saying, he was at least glad that the possibly rabid man was going along with his plan to exit the tent as quickly and safely as possible. His one free hand, now unburdened by anything sharp, grasped the forearm of the young Viscount Wenwynith. "Is good, little James. Ve go to safer place, have the foodstuffs now. Da? Da." Vladimir nodded his head vigorously, helping the lad from underneath the table. He continued with a descriptive of the alleged foodstuffs, directing his words to both of the boys, Crypt and orphan alike. "Pies stuffed vith meat (not sure vhat meat, but is meat, promise! Also колбаса... eh, sausages! And fried beet on stick. You vill like fried beet on stick. Is good for you - help make strong bones! Come, ve go now. Almost out."
For all of his rambling about forcemeat and fried root vegetables, Vlad was doing a presentable job painting a mental picture. Not one of a bountiful spread of Russian foods, both rural and street, but that of a marginally entertaining uncle type who kept the boys fixated on the mildly out-of-place rambling, the overall idea being to give them something else to process until after they had exited the presently damaged Main Tent. They were not of the Circus, and could not assist in their endeavors without getting in the way. The same went for the German fellow, Ludwig. Not to mention that a representative from a family who had threatened harm upon the child nobleman was within spitting distance. Vlad needed to secure them before anything else.
After a bit of pushing and other physical negotiation with the cold, heavy cloth, Vlad had led James back to the point where he had initially emerged from the canvas. The popped seam stood as a signpost to the path which he had taken earlier, which gave him a mental nudge of sorts. Had he forgotten something, though he could not remember quite what it was. It was a real head-scratcher.
"Aha!" he said aloud. He realized that he could not go through his generally exaggerated physical antics when puzzling something out, generally involving cocking his head to the side and whisking off his top hat, putting hand to his forehead, playacting an emotion of confusion that might translate well to an audience. It was the performer in him. Couldn't be helped. But he could not do his practiced motions of emotional display for two pressing reasons: His hands were full, and he was missing his hat! This would not do. He must have lost it when the canvas came down, and he was standing right under that popped seam when it happened.
Vladimir quickly handed off the platter of goodies to James and crouched to the floor, feeling about the ground beneath with both hands until his face shifted into a visage of satisfaction. He rose, popped his very impressive top at back upon his head, and gave a pleased grunt. He accepted the platter back from his extremely distant relative and led him the rest of the way out of the tent, finally. The nighttime air of a British summer pushed past them, promising rain sooner or later. Hopefully it would be later. Vlad wanted to get some good celebration time in before long. He noted that somehow, Ludwig and Adam had beaten them outside. He was curious as to how, but then it struck him: It must have been when he was getting his hat back. Regardless, he looked over the three of them; Adam, James, and Ludwig. They seemed none the worse for wear.
"Personal vardo is this vay, at Tent of Great Bazhooli! (ahem) My tent. Is vagon, place to sleep vhile on road. Hard vood. Doors lock. Don't drink all of vodka." He gave a comical sneer at Adam, as if to jokingly accuse the child of being the type to drink up one's liquor. Vlad then gave a hearty laugh and waved them on to elsewhere in the camp. He had to hurry and get them set up; it would take many people to assist with the damaged tent quickly. And then there was the subject of Thalken.
Sister Mary Ignatia Hale
"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc Location: The Regent's Park (Outer Circle Road) Skills: Horseback Riding
Jericho, of course. The best path out of London was, of course, the only path. There might have very well been other paths, more secretive ones, be they over or under the Wall, though Mary prayed that there were not. That being barred, she had hoped that the ways were known only to the righteous. These were quite possibly things of folly, maybe naivety, but it was an innocent thought about a purely hypothetical idea; one that had no bearing upon their present situation. They had to go through Jericho to exit London. Mary's concern was with what route they should take after they left.
Mary noticed Virginia's whispering, following the perspective deity centered supplications of both herself and Elizaveta. She said nothing, but glanced back and gave her a warm smile. Mary never considered that Virginia was Catholic, having never seen her near St. Etheldreda's for anything related to prayer or tithing, and from the lack of discussion on the topic from other sources, Mary had simply assumed that she was not a churchgoer, period. While the young Apostolic did not understand a word that Virginia said, she was merely pleased that there was a belief in the hereafter within the Lady Crypt's philosophy. She would have to bring it up later if she remembered, perhaps when they found their first resting spot in their journey.
But to their journey: The clearest option for overland travel was the Great North Road. It ran from London to Edinburgh, spanning from lower England to the heart of Scotland. It was fast, well-traveled, and maintained as well as any road in Great Britain. But it did not run through Gretna Green. It would take them north quickly but there would have to be a switchover to take them west. There were other paths for that, speedy and direct, though a single downed bridge or hard storm could delay them irreparably. This was a discussion for when they left London. Now, it was the sure canter of a strong, reliable stallion headed south through the mostly empty streets of the Capitol of the British Empire. They had to get a respectable head start on the Circus.
Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent Skills: None, clearly.
By what could only be considered as divine intervention, Thalken was pulled from the dark recesses of his mind as his dream world took on an entirely new form. He was soon greeted by tumultuous waves crashing onto a shoreline. The ocean was lined with ships sailing on a stormy horizon. The sea spray misted the air as the wind relentlessly battered the ships' black sails. The images that played out before him were not memories of his own making, and yet they seemed too vivid to be purely make believe. It was perhaps something else entirely...
The dream continued on. His attention focused on a sole individual standing out on the beach. It was a woman with pale skin that starkly contrasted her ebony hair. Her feminine curves were mostly hidden by the men's attire she donned. Her face was hidden from him as she just stood there silently looking out at the horizon as the waves licked at her feet. The imagery was so tranquil, providing him with a well needed reprieve from those painful memories that had threatened to swallow him whole mere moments ago. And yet, unfortunately for him, it was always darkest before the dawn. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him from the corners of his mind, and soon he felt himself slipping back under their dark, treacherous waves...
