---

---

---

---

---

Millicent smiled over towards Colette and nodded. "Oh I love the business. I have been running the company since... Since my father disappeared," she said. Her voice dropped somewhat but she pulled herself back together before she allowed herself to sink into a depression over her missing father. He had left because he had to and she knew he was still alive somewhere. And in her heart of hearts she knew he would bring back Virginia's parents with him. It would all be worth all the pain and sorrow this marriage to Rutherford brought about just to see the look on Virginia's face when she saw her parents again. They had to believe alive, just like her father had to be. She wouldn't let go of that hope.

Sighing a bit she looked away and down towards the sketch she was working on. "In this nation, it passes to me because my father is presumed dead. Yet, once wed all my property passes to my husband. I do hope he allows me to continue working there, perhaps even travel. It isn't something I have been able to do since I returned from China for my training. Only traveled from my families winter home to London and back again since then. This is my first trip to somewhere outside those two in some years," she admitted before she got back to work.

Glancing up at Colette she listened to her words and nodded an understanding. "Be careful who you trust. I hope I am wrong but if Lord Eagerton is anything like my fiance, you should run and run far," she said quietly. Her head turning and the light int he room flashing against her throat, the light caught t just right to reveal beneath the layer of make up bruises in the shape of a hand. It looked as if she had been choked. "You could lose everything if you are not careful." She was afraid to say more, who knew who was listening.

---

---

---

---

---

"London is truly a beautiful city at night. The way the lights from the gas lamps glitter on the wet cobblestones, how the Thames glistens in the moonlight. This city is old, very old. That means that no matter how much people work to secure it there is always another way out. See them, they are trying to rush out of the city but with things the way they are do you think they will be able to get out?"

"Ha, of course they will but my question is, what are you doing here? You know the law. We do not meddle. I swear you were a cat in a previous life."

"Perhaps I was yet I know you do not mean that as a compliment, yet I will take it as such. I know we do not meddle but we do when it is called for. That is why I am here."

"This is another situation, this is not that. You need to step back and let things unfold as they should. She will not be happy when she finds out what you are up to. You were given leeway because of who you are, who you are too her. Do not oversteps your bounds."

"Tell me, when was the last time you butted in?"

The road was hard, and because of constable details they were forced a longer way around for a bit. Down Regent St, onto Piccadilly, to St. James, to Pall Mall. Once back on track it was easy though to make their way to the Westminster Bridge and thankfully so far, no one back at the Circus was aware they had left. Every block they got passed, Elizaveta had to give thanks to God for giving them His speed on this. With any luck they would be to Jericho soon and then on the trek north. That was when the real race against time would begin.

---

---

---

---

---

On an adventure, to places unknown, and down the rabbit hole one must go. Go and To, to and go, stop and fro, left and right. Left and right, move left and right, left foot, right foot. Every step is day and every second step is night. Day and night. That's what makes the world go round. Round and around and around, it goes, like circles, like rings, rings on a finger, rings in a tent. Oh a tent, a beautiful tent with beautiful rings. Making the world go round and round. Like wheels, wheels on carts it moved things forward, as did feet. Feets that tapped along with a pretty tune, oh what a pretty tune.

A eye to Adam who held onto his hand, hands and tunes, feet and bones, oh what pretty tunes. As they walked, Ludwig hummed with each step forward. Two steps forward, one step back. Side to side. He danced a little jig as he began to sing to the little one who held his hand. Leading him forward and back, towards the tent, the world went round and round.

"You must set your sights upon the heights
Don't be a mediocrity
Don't just wait and trust to fate
And say, that's how it's meant to be
It's up to you how far you go
If you don't try you'll never know
And so my lad as I've explained
Nothing ventured, nothing gained

You see my boy it's nature's way
Upon the weak the strong ones prey
In human life it's also true
The strong will try to conquer you
And that is what you must expect
Unless you use your intellect
Brains and brawn, weak and strong
That's what makes the world go round"

“Vait... careful! One by one!” Constantin was directing the people as they were slowly clearing up the area from the fallen canvas. Some people were still trying to free themselves, which was normal, being caught underneath something like this... the canvas was heavy. It all probably triggered the primal instincts to free yourself and escape. So they had to work real had to not hurt anyone who was doing blind movement underneath the canvas. Than and they also had to try to keep the canvas as intact as possible. Luckily it was a hardy material... comparatively to normal cloth at least.

“Here...” He smiled and reached a hand to pull another person to freedom with a smile. Once this person was outside. Finally he stood up properly and looked around, studying how much they had progressed. Judging by the look of things, they were mostly done with pulling away the people.

“Alright people, ve are almost done. Just a lil bit more.” He called loudly to the others to bring their attention to the fact not much was left to do now so they should get together and do it fast.

---

---

---

Virginia noticed Mary's smile - she supposed that it was only fitting for Mary to smile at the mention of Veliona. She was the Dark Maiden, after all - a goddess of death and remembrance, of power and strength. Had she not a brother to care for and friends to defend from the trappings of society, Virginia fancied she would have pledged herself to dark forces and campaigned in Veliona's name. It was what her mother had always wanted for her, that much she was certain of. As for what happened after death...Well, that would be a thrilling adventure.

As much as her family was enamored with death, Virginia never thought much on what was awaiting behind the curtain. She preferred to focus her attention on the here and now. She could be enthralled with death and the chaos it brought on, attending public executions with her brother and observing intently as the necks were snapped as the victims fell. She could obtain cadavers and dissect them, teaching herself more about the human body than most people her age would care to know. And yet, what occurred after death did not trouble her. If pressed, she might recite a belief that Veliona would protect her - that she would see her ancestors again - but she had every intention to Seek Life Elsewhere. It was not yet her death day.

---

---

---

---

---

Colette was familiar with family laws and it was always such a bother. Granted, her brother was older, so it made sense that her family's lineage would continue through him. Still, it seemed that if Millicent was capable, smart, and knew the business, regardless of her marriage to Lord Rutherford or not, she would be in charge.

"I have not traveled as much. Apart from my training in China, I've only been to England and that was only a few times. Even so, I often stayed at home with my brother. It wasn't until later that I started exploring on my own." Colette remained as still as she could while Millicent sketched her. It gave her time to think.

More importantly, it gave her time to observe. She had her suspicions. Crying in the ladies room. The worried glances. The tense air in whatever room. Now, the lighting struck her skin perfectly. The marks left unsaid. It was all too common. She had seen them before and was hushed. "I believe I am a judge of good character. The only one I trust fully here is yourself and I believe I am not wrong. Lord Eagerton and Lord Rutherford are similar, I have gathered as much. And I do not plan to spend any more time than is decently necessary with either. For what it is worth, mademoiselle, you have my sympathy and my word. Both of which I do not give lightly."

Colette looked at Millicent, sketch be damned. She wanted the woman's eye contact. Wanted her to know and see for herself that despite her circumstances, despite BOTH of their circumstances, she had an ally. "I was right about you. You are strong."

---

---

---

---

---

It must have been a rather comical sight, watching the reigning Master of the Bazhooli Sem'ya traipse across the rows of tents and clearings, leading a young almost-Earl by the hand and his other laden with the Circus's equivalent of Russian street food. He knew exactly where to go; even if every tent was taken down and reassembled backwards, Vladimir would know. Every stitch and stake of this temporary city was committed to his memory, indelibly part of him as much as his generally flamboyant attitude or proclivity for all things sharp and pointy. He could find his way around if he was drunk, blindfolded, and juggling knives. Once, he even had to. It was an interesting Easter all around that year, as many within the Circus might relate. Drifting about his own his home with full hands, as quickly as he dared considering dual needs of speed and discretion, was child's play in comparison.

Vlad tried not to stop and stare at the oddly musical Ludwig, who apparently chose right then to burst into lyrical stylings. He was unfamiliar with the song, in the same way that he was unfamiliar with many of the songs of this little island of Britannia. Maybe it was German, and just translated into English. Not that it would matter anyway; The Great Bazhooli was not overly familiar with songs of Teutonic origins, either. So out of place it seemed, even among the people of the Circus, that Vlad's attempt to not stop and stare was doomed to head shaking futility. It lasted but a few seconds before the experienced performer shrugged the spectacle off and resumed his jaunt to his living area.

The tent itself served mostly as the landmark by which he navigated. The actual goal was the wagon hitched nearby. It was a fine piece of the carpenter's art, done up in muted red, black, and colors of natural wood. While it did not have the grandeur nor interior space of his tent, it served extraordinarily well as protection and shelter from adverse conditions. He opened the main door toward the front and motioned toward it for the benefit of the others in his immediate vicinity. "Viscount James, Master Adam and Master Zimmer, I give invite for three ov you to accept hospitality ov Great Bazhooli! Vardo, eh, is vagon - home when on road. Is for having little stove, places for the sleeping, et ceteras, da?" His voice slipped into a harsh whisper, and he even managed to duck a little to provide emphasis, beckoning the two children and Ludwig into a huddle. Whether or not they actually responded was of little consequence to the oft dramatic man, who continued explaining his intent in the same voice that was overly loud for a man trying to keep a secret. "Most important: Doors bar from inside. Good for when having to load pistol, good for vhen sleeping if place not friendly. NOW! ...sorry. Now, three ov you use tent. Use vardo. Make each other safe. I vill attend to guest." It was a temporary solution, until their own space could be established. Vladimir knew that the boys were to be spending a lot more time with the Circus, and if what Veta arranged with the German held up, they would be seeing a lot more of him as well. The boys would need certain things; clothes, shoes, their own spot in the caravan. Vlad had and to spare, even if he occasionally liked his privacy. Temporary, he told himself, but necessary. They had to be kept safe.

The Great Bazhooli turned with a determined look welded to his face, snapping his fingers separately, only to fill his hands with sharpened steel. It was a tiny piece of stage magic put to the use for which it was intended: Drama. And practice. But then the rugged look evaporated, only to be replaced with one of mild foolishness, as if he had forgotten something. Vlad jogged back to the vardo and impaled a meat pie with one of his very shiny knives, then continued on his way back to the Main Tent to assist with the restoration of the Circus, purposefully gnawing down his purloined savory goodness.

---

---

---

---

The steady rhythm of shod hooves upon cobblestone was filtered out of Mary's notice. They still registered as sound, but the keen senses of the young Apostolic were focused upon anything that might be a threat. Perhaps it was a fruitless endeavor; nonetheless one that Mary kept to, allowing her horse to maintain a straight and level course. Unless they had to turn, Mary's eyes scanned her surroundings. It was a benefit to having a horse trained for service under a Knight.

Mary could feel herself slipping back into the mindset of her Training. To that end, it galled her that she had to leave without giving word to her liaison with the Vatican, the Bishop Mansfield. She had given her word, however, and was bound by it unless a greater virtue or oath surpassed it. Neither could be the case in that instance. Her mission was to protect the life and safety of an innocent, to travel a great distance to do so, and to sate her own suspicions about the Lord in question. It was a righteous cause, without doubt. That knowledge firmed her resolve. The message would be taken care of in due time. Not to mention that a good chunk of her training revolved around the quiet, surreptitious removal of threats and obstacles from the path of other crusaders. Or for the common good. She was a Venator. It was implied by her mandate of service. No matter what title was bestowed upon her, or what honor lain at her feet, she would always be as she was - the tip of God's sword upon His creation, the unrelenting Agent of Our Lord's Church, a shield for the defenseless and a weapon for Humanity, until God bid her to take her place in His holy presence; and no man upon the earth could ever speak differently.

And upon all of this, Mary gave reverence to the Blessed Virgin in thanks that she was setting upon this quest with friends. Mary could not remember the last time that she had friends, let alone ones as capable as these. It made all the difference in the world.

---

---

---

---

---

Thalken awoke with a start, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat despite the icy chill that also pervaded his body. As the remnants of his hellish nightmare slowly faded away, he could feel a weight increasingly pressing down on him and encompassing his prone body. It was one part the hefty weight of the ice covered cloth and two parts the massive hangover that held him captive right then. Through the pain, he could dully feel water dripping down on him as the ice slowly melted, and an involuntary shiver went down his spine as a chill coursed through him. He blinked several times as he attempted to get his bearings, but it was hard to think straight when it felt like his head was in a vice. A miserable groan escaped his lips as he weakly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

Right about then some of the pressure was alleviated as the cloth overhead was slowly eased off of him and the others who were similarly trapped underneath. He let out another groan due to the pounding in his head as he got his feet underneath himself. However, his groan quickly turned into more of a strangled gurgling sound as a stream of vomit spewed out of his mouth violently. He attempted to spin around and bend over to direct the vomit towards the ground, but unfortunately for anyone within in five feet of him (sorry, Constantin), he failed miserably. Most people were lucky enough to avoid the clear, hot projectile which reeked of alcohol. Again, the operative word is most. Perhaps none of the few victims were more unfortunate than poor ol' Constantin who was hit square in the face with the vile substance that was Thalken's vomit. Third times the charm? Wait, nope. Apparently not.

---

---

---

---

---

Strong, that was a word that Millicent had never heard used in her direction, at least not as a compliment. Sure some had called her strong before but it was usually in regards to the fact she could lift things, or her arms looked too strong, that her chin was too strong, etc. It was never something good but as Colette said it she new she wasn't meaning it as an insult. It made her feel warm inside, in a good way. And she couldn't help but smile slightly towards the woman. She even felt a slight blush come to her features. "I, um, thank you," she said as she looked away shyly. Another trait she didn't know she possessed, shyness.

Taking a breath she forced a smile, "I believe I am done," she said softly as she removed the single sheet of thick paper from her pad and held it out to Colette. "I hope you like it," she added as she handed it over. She had wanted to frame Colette with the flora around them but instead had just focused on her and her smile. Sketching was one of the few things she truly enjoyed that was actually expected of her as a woman. It gave her a sense of control in a world that seemed to be completely out of her control. And allowed her to freeze time, a single moment taken and held onto so when the years passed it wouldn't be forgotten like so many things.

Yet that joy was short lived. Rutherford and Eagerton came into the Conservatory. And it wasn't subtle, loudly in fact. "Millicent," he called as he ran over to her. For once he had a look of concern in his features. Whether it was for Millicent or not was up for debate and him calling her name made her freeze in fear. Had he overheard them speaking? She tensed up, as if expecting a hit but it never came. Instead he just rushed to them and stopped as he came to her side. "We have to go, no," he said in a hurried voice.

Millicent blinked and a questioning look came over her features. Yet the Lord of the manor was the one that spoke to answer the unasked question. "Whatever attack happened in London has spread, and is moving north. We need to leave before this place is overwhelmed," he said with earnest. There was the sound of a crash and screams outside in the front of the large mansion. "Quickly."

---

---

---

---

---

"I only butt in when needed."

"Oh of that I am sure but what is truly needed and what you feel is needed are two different things. Last I checked you were missing in action when it came to something truly needed."

"And just what was that?"

"Replacing a stolen container of salt peter. Because of that, they have lost one so far."

"Which one?"

"I dare say that is information you are not privy to until she decides to inform you, but of course to do that you would need to go home for a while."

"Yeah, that will just have to wait."

"Indeed, ready?"

"Ready."

Each road they managed to get down, each turn they were able to take quickened the pace. That was until they finally had sight of Jericho's Barricade. It didn't mean that they were home free but it was the gate way to the rest of the journey and it meant the beginning of much to come. Yet for that to happen, it meant they had to get through the gate. That shouldn't be a problem she thought to herself. There were plenty of people fleeing the city, trying to get back to the main homes, away from the murders and the rest of the problems in London. And not to mention, probably a small part of that was the smell. It was just something that plagued larger cities no matter what, the stench got to everyone that didn't live there year round.

Yet, this was going to be a bigger problem than she had anticipated. The gate was closed and there were guards at the gate. Leaning down she spoke in Myskas ear in her native tongue. The large tigers stride slowing and eventually coming to a stop. She was grateful that he wasn't putting up a fight or rebelling right then against her but this still worried her. The guards were obviously taken aback by the presence of a woman riding a tiger through the streets of London and right up to their gate.

"State your name and business," one of the guards said as he stepped forward. He didn't draw his weapon but the men behind him, they stood ready, to draw if need be. This was not something she was expecting. Sure, getting questioned to enter the city was one thing but what should they care if they were leaving? Something didn't feel right.

---

---

---

---

---

To places known, to places unknown. Yet, what was known and unknown? What was known to one was unknown to another or perhaps they both knew and everyone else didn't know or even they didn't know and everyone else knew. Like a joke being told and only one person laughed. Was it that it wasn't really funny or that the punch line was just unknown. The known and unknown were up and down or down and up or around and round or bound and unbound or found and lost and lost and found. Found, founders, louder, so much louder, or quieter, perhaps it was quieter. Or was it? Maybe it was just the voices in his head or maybe there were not voices just himself thinking to himself but if that was the case why speak to himself? Well there was a reason, he did have wonderful ideas, even if the rest of the world didn't know it.

This was something he would want to speak to his mentor about. Well that and the fact he seemed to be a mentor himself now. A young child was next to him. On his hip and in his mind. Oh what wonderful things he would teach him, just like he had been taught. Oh yes, his master was amazing and he could only hope to be as amazing. He knew he had a few things in common with his master, other than a single skill. More than that so many thought his master was mad. He wasn't mad. He was glad, so glad, unless people called him mad, then he got mad but he wasn't mad before he was called mad because why would someone be mad for being called mad if they hadn't been called mad to start with? Now, that would just be crazy.

Around and around he looked, spinning around with a boy on his hip. "Oh these are no streets broad and narrow but alive, so alive, alive alive O. A fish monger wouldn't know what to do here for this is no street but it could be on the street, maybe. Sweet Molly, to Dublin you should go, was Dublin though where you should have fled, so sad but we're not mad. You keep selling those muscles do you not? On streets broad and narrow, the fever might have claimed you but you claimed it back." Knees buckling he sat himself down and released little Adam. Looking over towards James. "Death claims us all but the key is claiming Death, then you win," he said with a grin.

Outside of the tent, things were calm... well maybe not calm but that was perhaps a good thing. It still had gone unnoticed that Veta and Mary and Virginia had left. (Rolls are made each round to determine if anyone notices, so until it is said after a roll, no one knows they are gone yet."

---

---

---

---

---

Of all things to happen when they had just about finished dealing with the fallen canvas was to see someone who was not from the circus. That alone Constantin could deal with, it wasn't that he was feeling intense anger or hatred towards outsiders. He felt distrust, so the man's presence alone was not enough to enrage him. He was standing up on his legs now, but he seemed kind of shaky. Did he get too much to drink or something? "Hey you alright?" He asked. Then it all happened. Something hot and horrible hit his face. The stench struck his nose moment later. The man had just puked at him... right at his very face. Constantin's mind just went blank for a moment. For which time today had this damned happened!? He just switched to full hatred mode for a moment. Then he bend his body slightly, putting the strength in his left leg before delivering a powerful kick at the man. A kick containing as much power as he can muster. And oh the power that that one kick did muster...

With Thalken still nursing a horrid hangover, his usual quick wit and surefootedness was, needless to say, far from quick and far from sure. Before Thalken had adequate time to react, Constantin's foot made direct contact with his stomach, effectively sending him flying backwards. Yes, flying. More so, seeing as he had already vomited himself out, what remained in his digestive tract had to come out the only other way possible: out the back end. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's just a flying Thalken who crapped himself. Mind you, when he said that he needed to atone for his sins, this is not what he had in mind.

Thalken hit the ground with a dull,---squishy---thud.

"Проклет да е..." Constantin cursed, pulling off his shirt and wiping his face with it, to get all the damned puke off it. He was going to have a bath of some kind right now... no way he was getting anywhere near a bed like this. He took a step towards the man whom he kicked, but stopped himself when the smell hit him. "Bah..." He made a sound of annoyance and disdain. Of all things that could have happened today... all those happened and this happened. This was officially the worst day since forever.

"Get someone to drag this one's ass out of here." Constantin shouted in clear growing irritation and anger. Frankly he had felt a whole of a lot better after he kicked Thalken strong enough to send him flying, but it didn't fix his mood completely. "Pour a bucket of vater or tvo on him or something..." He added before turning to move away from the fallen Thalken least he kicks him once more to completely fix his mood!

The fall rattled Thalken's already pounding head, and the world spun for a moment or two before coming back into focus. Had he not already emptied the contents of his stomach, he probably would have vomited again or--pooped again. He winced slightly as Constantin's loud, rumbling voice egged on his impending migraine. Any bit of harsh intensity that normally pervaded his features had since melted away to reveal sheer weariness. But truth be told, he had been weary well before the alcohol had ever taken its hold on him. His hellish life had made him weary.

Speaking of hell, this was an absolute nightmare! Yet he felt too weary to truly entertain the thought of how mortifying this whole situation was. He knew that he would never live this down, but perhaps in a way he didn't want to. To live. "Just kill me now, and put me out of my misery," he grumbled in a raspy voice as he stared distantly at the ceiling. He seemed to shrink within himself, shutting out the world, until he was eventually gifted the small mercy of passing out cold.

Constantin just let out a really angry grunt before he walked away without even giving Thalken a final look. Moving as a stormy cloud he just stormed away towards the tent of his family. He was hoping his mother had already did her usual way of action and put water to be heating up. It was a long day and night after all. He just wished to get a bucket of warm water to clean up for … he didn't even want to recall the number. Today was truly not his day and he was not happy about it.

---

---

---

---

---

Colette did not mean to embarrass the woman, but it was true. Given all she assumed had happened to her, it was only right that Colette shares some goodness and warmth with her. Colette knew only too well the dangers of being a woman here and now. How they are expected to maintain an image, act a certain way, and not overshadow any man. If only men knew that pushing anyone to their limits often yielded dangerous results.

Hopefully, Colette did not overstep herself, but she had a feeling Millicent was hiding more than she was letting on. And for good reason. Colette, thankful she did not have to sit still much longer came and looked at the sketch. She had to admit, it struck her. Often times portraits were done of families or individuals and they did not smile or laugh. Common human emotions such as that were often not captured by paint or pen. Instead, they opted for stoic faces. Boring she called it.

And yet, she looked at the sketch done of her and it was her face, her hair, but also her smile. She was laughing in the sketch and it amused her greatly. It was a well-done sketch too. Millicent had talent.

Before she could express her fondness and gratitude, Lord Egerton and Lord Rutherford came barging in. She had half a mind to tell them to go away, but their panicked expression caused concern.

And then she heard the crash. And the screams.

The attack she had heard so much about, the Soulless. It was coming here. "Where should we go then? If they are here already, how do we escape?" She was not afraid. Far from it actually. Even the prettiest of roses held thorns and she was not without her defenses. Still, it was better to flee and regroup, especially if it was as deadly as the last attack.

---

---

---

Virginia tore herself away from her thoughts as they were questioned upon leaving the city. It wasn't any sort of typical protocol, meaning that something extraordinary had to have occurred. Of course, what was extraordinary to a Crypt was easily horrifying to the general public. Slipping into her state of mind for her amateur investigations, Virginia came to the conclusion that the guards of the barricade could have several purposes. The first was that a person of interest was leaving London and they wished to prevent it. The second was that someone sought to somehow damage the barricade, in order to open for an attack. And the third was nothing more than simple bureaucracy, but she strongly doubted that option as being feasible.

She doubted they were searching for the Grand Duchess. The Russian Circus didn't seem the type to request for the guards of London to prevent her from leaving. They had more style than that. Who were they searching for? She pondered whether it was Mary, but similarly, she didn't think anyone would have been searching for Mary in such a fashion. Had the Talinks truly carried with their threats and had bribed the guards? No, it was too much in the open for creatures that lurked in the shadow. Still, Virginia held her tongue, deciding to hold back and remain as obscured by Mary's form as she could. Her features had caused her to be mistaken for the Soulless before and she did not wish to jeopardize their mission.

---

---

---

---

---

A determined flush of red swelled Vlad's cheeks, along with a clarifying hint of brightness to his eyes. He began with a walk, a very solid walk to return to the main tent, but it was not fast enough. Both hands worked sharp and pointy objects, twirling them back and forth wit rapid precision, a supposed cadence for his steps that never seemed fast enough. Soon, Vladimir found himself running. It wasn't but a short walk, but his willingness to get it over and done with was strong. When he had switched to the wide, reaching pace of a runner, the knives in his hands had ceased their nervous, twirling constitutionals, having settled into underhanded grips at the sides of the man known as the reigning Great Bazhooli. Safety, and such.

The run took him around carts and baskets of wares, vaulting over displays and spinning his physicality about groups of Circus Folk. He leapt over a brazier at one point, its smoke clinging to his body for a split second, giving the appearance of a men trailing vengeful, smoldering embers. Somehow, his ponderously tall hat clung to his head. It lent his appearance the barest of comical notes which no one in their right mind would snicker upon viewing, not if they wished to continue their evening untouched by the growing fervor of Vladimir's march. Such as it could be called a march at any rate, and not a mad dash to battle.

But battle was not to be had, as he set foot back inside of the Main Tent. He tucked his knives away, and with a look of high disbelief, pondered a question in something akin to The King's English: "Vhat, ah... Vhat in leftover ass transpires here? Eh?"

---

---

---

---

Defiance was not one of Mary's strong points. It wasn't who she was. In fact, one of the oaths that she had taken was one of Obedience. It was not as strict as that of a fully Cloistered nun, but it was enough to demonstrate that Mary was not given to open acts of rebellion against authority purely for the sake of it. (As an interesting side note, now that Mary was the Arch Graveolase, did that mean that her Oath of Obedience now limited her to orders given purely from the mouth of God? She would have to reconcile this new situation with her duties to the Church, as she now represented a lot more than Knights of the Papacy.) Nor was she inclined to give trouble to the men guarding the Wall, all protectors of the lives and souls of the people of London. But their business was urgent and they had to depart.

"Da mihi fortitudinem, et patientia, Dei Omnipotentis..."₁ said Mary in a clear but quiet voice as she edged Cassius forward a step or two. She kept her halberd within her horse's tack, but turned her mount slightly so that the distinctive weapon of the Swiss Guard could be seen readily. It was not a show of force more than providing something of an identifying marker to back up her words to the guard. "I am Commander Hale, Venator of the Order of St. Sylvester," she began, speaking to the man from atop her horse as an equal, rather than a woman who felt obliged to wait and answer questions. If word had gotten around London as per the local rumormill's reputation, this man knew the most recent title she had acquired; a young, fiery-haired Catholic girl, a Scottish Lady Knight of the Papacy and Soulless Hunter who had landed in the highest position in the land. People already knew about her in London. Being female, Catholic, and having her occupation had made her a well-known outcast (until they needed her), becoming Arch Graveolase even in the Interim was bound to get around. "I am pursuing business of my Order. By what cause do you interrogate persons leaving London, Sir Guard? What has happened?"

Mary considered not revealing her name, not saying anything that might tip their hand. It was not a falsehood to say that she was pursuing business of her Order. If given a command, a Knight of St. Sylvester was expected to carry it out expediently. It just happened that she, flexing the muscle of her new title, gave herself the order. Also, it would be rather difficult to go incognito from this point with a Russian lady riding a tiger. That was far too conspicuous. The Circus would know exactly who all three of them were from that detail alone, as might the good people of St. Etheldreda. But as far as they knew, the Circus didn't miss them yet, and the Church was not expected to check up on Mary that evening.

---

---

---

---

---

Darkness. He was greeted by darkness as his mind slipped away and he ultimately lost consciousness. His body had taken an immense toll this day, and needless to say, he felt drained, both physically and emotionally. And in the moment, he actually saw the darkness that was now swallowing him whole as a relief. You see, darkness in and of itself didn't scare him. It never had. Perhaps one could say he had a love hate relationship with it. There was a time in his life, the darkest point really, when he had embraced the world's darkness and sinful ways wholeheartedly. No, the darkness didn't scare him at all. What scared him was what he became in the dark.

Monsters lurked in the dark, and he was one of them. He was a monster. He couldn't deny it. It stared him straight in the face everyday. How he could have overlooked it or denied the truth for so long was truly beyond his comprehension. The truth of the matter was that he couldn't blame it all on his father. He was just as much, if not more, to blame for his actions and behavior. Well, enough was enough. It was time to grow up, put the past in the past, and look towards a better future, for himself and more importantly for those around him. And, hopefully, he had already set that into motion. That or he just screwed himself over. Who knows.

Annan: The evening had gone well enough. A meal and some berating of the cook later and Lady Kirkpatrick had turned in for the evening. A single room was secured for Maeve on the second floor next to Sallys. The "Father" was told if he wanted to sleep he could seek out shelter at the local church.

Everything was quiet until the break of dawn. Yet once dawn broke, so did the silence. "Bloody hell! Where is my tea!" Lady Kirkpatrick bellowed from her room. Sitting up and glancing around the empty room, she debated getting out of bed to pick up her cane and be ready to smack someone with it or just to sit there for a few more moments.



London: What a wonderful place, at least at times it is. Last evening so much occurred. An attack on Almacks was just the beginning of a very eventful evening. Yet even after everything is drew to what one could might say was a successful day.

Thalken might not but hey, we can't all be winners. He at the end of the night was wrapped up in a very thick piece of canvas and moved to the stables under guard. No one was changing him but hey the circus was good enough to leave a few buckets of water, some soap, and a clean change of clothing near him so when he finally woke up and smelled himself he could clean up. They sure as shit weren't going to do it. Can you blame them?

Once Thalken was moved the Circus finished fixing the downed canvas and turned in for the evening. Ludwig spent some time entertaining the children with stories of his travels from Japan to the Americas and especially of his time at sea. That was until the children fell asleep, for a while he kept talking and then writing in his journal before following suit and falling asleep himself. It was for the best, too many people that day had called him mad. Dieter, his ferret not his brother, fell asleep curled up around Ludwigs neck.

Outside of the Circus, three women did not sleep. It seemed the guards were told to screen everyone leaving and to stop as many as thy could. Especially those trained or or noble birth. The crown did not want the city to close down. The financial toll it could have on the city could be devastating. Yet it seemed that God or perhaps something or someone else was watching over the three women. For as the guards tried to keep them within the city a fog rolled in and suddenly the guards went flying. A goat baahing loudly as he kept ramming the men in the rear. Elizaveta took the opportunity to make a break for it before the gate was closed. Once they were outside of the city, things went much smoother. The fog seemed to cover them and keep them out of sight until they were able to get around the city wall and get traveling north once again.

They had managed to put a lot of distance between them and London but their luck was no longer holding out for as Sister Sophia came to bring Elizaveta her morning meal she screamed. The future Czarina was no where to be found. The only thing of note left behind was the papers for James and a small note: "Do Not follow. - Veta~"

"The Grand Duchess! She has gone!" Sophia screamed as she rushed out of Elizavetas tent.

Manchester: "I have a carriage waiting outside. We should hurry," Lord Eagerton said and Rutherford agreed but not completely.

"They are pushing north. We cannot get ahead of them though," Richard said. Millicent gulped a bit, perhaps they couldn't at least not on land.

"My father has ships in port in Preston," she said quietly and gave a halfways glanced towards Colette.

"My brilliant fiance, yes. A ship, traveling will be much quicker. Can you get us to Preston?" Rutherford asked of Thomas. the man nodded and it was decided. They would flee to Preston and a ship from there.

"Please, come with us," Millicent said quickly to Colette before Rutherford grabbed her wrist and rushed off. Thomas looked at Colette and held his hand out to her. If she came he would do what he could to protect her but if not he would leave her behind. That much was clear in his eyes. (Colette may come along or chose to stay behind and try to find her servants.)

From the Lords home they managed to sneak out of Manchester via carriage and head north. The city had buildings that were burning as they left and by morning the attack on Manchester was over and the Soulless once again had vanished into the shadows. Pillars of white smoke curled towards the skies come day break. Fyror and Gerard had managed to make wonderful time and as dawn broke they reached the edge of Manchester. The smell of death and burning buildings still heavy in the air.

Nottingham: As the sun began to rise, Elizaveta look a breath of relief. The city of Nottingham coming into view in the distance. "Ve should take rest, it has been a long evening," she said as she brought Myshka to a slow walk. If anything she knew that Myska and Mary's horse both needed a rest. If they kept pushing them like this, they could end up with two very dead animals. All of them could use a meal and a rest, even if only for an hour or so.

Preston: They had arrived in Preston just an hour before dawn and a ship ha been readying itself to leave for Scotland. A few quick words and room was spared on the Catherine for them to board. They had brought word about the attacks on London and Manchester with them and as dawn broke Millicent stood on the deck of the ship and watched the city of Preston become smaller as they set sail. "Father..." she said quietly as she wrapped her arms around herself. While she was alive, going by ship would mean they would be in Scotland much faster. There was no turning back now for even if she wanted to run, the only choice was the depths of the waters. Yet, would a watery grave be so bad?

---

---

---

---

---

Colette had a choice to make. She would either run with a woman she found herself sympathising with and wishing to protect along with her ill-suited fiance she wished would fall to the Soulless or stay and remain, fight off the attack if she could, and make it back home where her servants were at.

She looked at the outstretched hands of Thomas with disdain. How simple he looked. She shook her head and caught Millicent's gaze, "No, I will remain here. I must see if my family's home is all right and if my servants are safe. We will meet again, I am sure. It was a pleasure, mademoiselle." She curtsied low, before they were gone and she ran past Thomas, not giving him a second glance.

She made her way downstairs to the chaos ensuing. The Soulless were joined in their attack. Others were fleeing while some remained on the ground, motionless. Colette was not safe in this building anymore. If she remained, she would surely perish as well. She pushed onward, jumping over corpses and fleeing past the monsters that continued to attack. Surely she caught their attention, but she had no time to check.

She made her way outside past the entrance before two Soulless appeared before her. Their monstrous appearance may have scared the average lady, but she was not average. Instead, she reached into the fold of her dress and unsheathed her chain whip. She gave it a flick before she spoke, "Voulez-vous mourir ce soir des créatures? Alors viens à moi!" The creatures yelled before they charged. She parried and spun around one, swinging her whip deftly across it's neck before spinning it in her hand and yanking it, cracking the neck as the beast slumped to the ground. The other, obviosuly angered by the death of its friend, charged again. She slashed across it's chest, knocking it back, before she spun the whip around its neck and pulled it close. "Au revoir," she said before she crushed its neck.

She ran, carrying her whip with her less she run into more of them. They seemed to be moving away, which meant her house would have succumbed to the attack too. She made haste, getting there as quickly as she could.

When she saw her home, it was broken. Windows were smashed. The door as thrown off. And the blood. She held in whatever emotions wished to pour out of her throat. Some had to have lived. Surely.

And then she stepped out of the shadow. Ida. Blood smeared across her apron and shirt. A knife in her hand. She saw Colette just as Colette noticed her. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief before stepping forward. "Enfant! Dieu merci, vous êtes en sécurité!" She hugged Colette closely. Colette fought the urge to cry. Thankful Ida was ok, she pulled apart. "Ida, everyone else. They are.." Ida's look spoke more than words ever could. "Certains vivent, mais la plupart ont été tués." Colette nodded, understanding the situation as it came. They would have to clean up things around here.

---

Morning came. Ida insisted on dealing with the bodies by herself and Colette could not argue if she wanted to. "Vous venez de traverser une épreuve, ma dame. Laissez-moi gérer les choses." Colette, instead, stripped off her torn gown and bloodied cloth before sleep took her. When she woke, she dressed quickly in looser clothing. She hand plans to travel into town to see if anyone needed help. She was safe and her home stood, but others may not be so lucky.

Ida protested, but Colette assured her she was fine. She left Ida and the other servants who lived to clean up. She would write home later to assure her parents she was safe. They would not be happy on her staying, but she was not about to leave.

She made her way into town, eager to help.

Constantin had returned to his tent more or less right after dealing with the last annoyance in the face of Thalken. Then it was the quick bath via the good use of 2 warm buckets of water and some soap. Finally after all that was done he had hopped into his bed, letting all the annoyances during the day to slip away from him as he himself slipped into the warm embrace of the blessed slumber that washed away all of reality and brought him to the endless possibilities of the fields of dreams.

The dreams were good. There were dancing maidens in white, jolly songs, endless forest parties going on and all in all it was great. More likely than not it was all fault of those old folk stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. About things like samodivas, vilys and all the rest of the fair folk of legend. It also stood for a wonder why one of the samodivas looked like Veta... granted she was not alone a fair portion of the circus folk were one way or another into his dreams. For example Vlad was covered in ash and taking care of the rest of the people as a domovoy.

As the jolly dream was coming to an end it was finally the time to wake up. At first his presence of mind was easy. He was happy and joyful at having had such a pleasant dream filled with people dancing and having fun. He could recall nice things of the dream for the moment. It was all good, this was going to be a fine day after all... Then his father burst into the tent shouting that he heard Sophia scream her lungs out that Veta was missing. It took exactly a moment before he jumped on his legs.” You've got to be kidding... VETAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” He screamed in anger. That woman had danced to her own tune again and caused problems to all and probably got herself into even more problems than what she caused them.

---

---

---

---

---

The evening following the collapse of the tent was not ideal, granted, but at the very least Vladimir got in a little time involving relaxation and the diverting passions of music, food, and wine. And most certainly, what gathering of Circus folk would be complete without getting a few, well inebriated Bazhoolis together, spinning them around several times so as to fully disorient, and have them hurl knives for accuracy. Let us say that, within the confines of the Russian Imperial Circus, it was a very good thing that they had many healers and practitioners of Fal'shbort. A very good thing.

But good news! The tent was repaired, that Talink fellow was down for the remainder of the evening, and they could actually get to the celebration uninterrupted. Veta was, to the best of Vlad's knowledge, still associating with Virginia and Mary, having girl talk or discussing the overthrow of nations. It could go either way with that bunch, Vlad figured. It was best not to interrupt them. Veta had so few people to converse with outside of the Circus, and now she had two such people, influential young women who were about her age. Let them talk, while the Sem'ya would dance, and sing, and laugh. Also drink - definitely drink.

Dawn came early, as dawn does. Vladimir was not the earliest riser, as many of his performances were nighttime affairs, but there was the pressing threat of Soulless, apparently within London, that prompted him to take a more earnest interest in the safety and security of his people. It was around this time, while he was walking the perimeter and speaking to those on guard duty, that he heard a chilling scream from the tent of his dear Elizaveta. Without hesitation, he took off at rapid pace toward the sound. As he got to the silk and canvas structure, Vlad began to realize that the scream did not come from Veta, but from Sister Sophia, declaring the absence of the Grand Duchess.

"Sophia! Sophia, vait... Vhere are others? The Scary Catholic Girl and the Lady Crypt?" If anyone now would know something about this sudden need to depart, it might be them. His voice marked of command, but in a pleading sense. "You find, da? You find them and ve talk. It vill be good! All vill be vell." He didn't believe the words that were issuing from his mouth, but it would do no one any good at all to get into a panic. Locate, ask around, try to find out what happened. She likely was not abducted, not with a note like that. He also doubted that their uninvited guest had anything to do with it, having soiled himself and been unconscious throughout the evening. Vlad had questions, but could not let others see the depth of concern in his face. He needed his people to act as a unit and puzzle out this difficulty.

Word of things like this spread through the Circus like wildfire. If something was known, it would get back to him soon. Still, it never hurt to motivate.

---

---

---

---

The fog and the strange sounds of goat within said fog worked to the advantage of the trio of Trained women. Mary might consider the occurrence something of a miracle, though she did not remember any of the miracles of Angels or Saints to take the form of a livestock animal obscured by condensation. Her unwillingness to immediately place religious significance on the event notwithstanding, Mary did indeed follow Veta's lead, nudging her horse, Cassius, through the gate in the confusion. They had business of a most pressing nature that would not be halted by a gatekeeper, nor city officials bent on holding onto their population at any cost.

The plan was to ride as quickly north as they could and send back word later to let all parties back in London know that they were safe, at least then. But for the start of it, they needed to put as much space between themselves and anyone who would stop them, even if they meant well, and quickly. The overnight ride was certainly effective in doing that. Mary did not like pushing Cassius that hard, nor would she have unless the need was great. He was a fine horse and had served her well. Besides, breaking their animals or making them lame would help no one, especially not Millicent. They would need some time to rest. "I agree, Elizaveta." she said, urging her horse down to a manageable walk. The street signs pointed this city out as Nottingham, meaning they had covered a respectable amount of ground in the night. "I am impressed with our progress. Surely we might find a place to board our beasts for a while. I might send word back to St. Etheldreda's, if there is a person of Vatican training in one of the churches here." Even the Anglicans should be of assistance in their endeavor. If they were not, Mary would have to remind them of their obligations to humanity in the face of this new, better organized threat of Soulless. She had no intention of saying it with flowers.

"How are you faring, Virginia?" she asked behind her. It was rough for an untrained rider to be on horseback for so long, especially if one rode behind the person holding the reins. As they made their way to Nottingham at a slower pace, Mary offered up, "I still have a number of pies in my baggage, if anyone has interest. Strawberry. They might be a bit shaken by now, however." Perhaps it would be better to wait until they got into town for such things. But the offer was there. She didn't remember herself nor her companions taking a meal the previous evening in the hustle and bustle of events.

---

---

---

Veliona must have answered Virginia's prayers, she concluded, as a heavy fog had protected them on their journey out of the city. She hoped that her brother would be similarly protected - as well as Millicent. Virginia did not care to have her loved ones such a great physical distance away from her. As much as she did not pretend that Millicent needed protection - she was a woman of great strength - she wanted to be able to come to her friend's aid at a moment's notice without a lengthy delay for travel. Such thoughts kept her preoccupied on their travels, with the occasional tale from the Crypt family records coming to mind as well.

She felt a bit sore and stiff after such a long ride, but she did not protest. She would have gladly slept on a bed of nails without prompting. In fact, she had some memory of her mother attempting to persuade her father to install such a bed in their own set of rooms at Wenwynith Manor. "I am sore, but it is no trouble," Virginia admitted. She did not know much about the care of animals after lengthy rides, so she was content to defer to Elizaveta and Mary's judgment. She wondered if it would be wise to send word at this point, however. Although their progress was great, she was not sure if it was yet sufficient.

---

---

---

Maeve had been having a pleasant dream. Her daughter, precious Roisin, was attending the finest preparatory school for girls. The teacher sent a letter home - which Finnian had read to Maeve - indicating how Roisin was a prodigy and was beyond her peers by several years. Her deafness didn't hold Roisin back. However, she stirred and awoke to the sound of Lady Kirkpatrick screaming for tea. She was halfway awake and sleepily signed, "In a mo',", before she fully recalled her surroundings. Thankfully, no one was sharing her quarters, so no one witnessed her brief slip up. She mentally brought herself back to the role of Neasa O'Connor.

Maeve quickly dressed herself for the day and pinned her hair up. After giving birth to Roisin, she had become an expert in getting dressed and ready to go in a short period of time. It was necessary after many sleepless nights with a screaming baby that couldn't even hear her own cries - Maeve would sleep to the last possible minute and then get dressed in record time, just in order to survive. She knocked lightly on Lady Kirkpatrick's door. "I'll brin' ye yer tay in a minute, me lady," she told her in her thick Irish accent.

Truthfully, Maeve wasn't sure if Lady Sally wanted her to bring her the tea or someone else, but she had no intention of being canned by the woman - even if she was there to spy on her. Maeve made her way to the kitchen, looking to see if there was tea already available or if she'd have to make it herself. "Excuse me, Lady Kirkpatrick requires some tay," she said to anyone down there, in order to explain her presence.

---

---

---

---

---

Thalken's eyes fluttered open, and a groan soon left his lips. His face contorted into a grimace at the pounding in his head. It took a moment for the sensation of thick fabric wrapped around him and something else touching him to pervade him. When it did, he suddenly started flailing his arms and legs in an attempt to unwedge himself. Once free of the fabric's constraint, he quickly sat up, a little too quickly actually. His head spun, the pounding seemingly filling his ears. His nose simultaneously wrinkled as a foul stench hit his nose. The pain coupled with the godawful smell made him feel sick to his stomach, and if it weren't for the fact that he had an empty stomach, he probably would've vomited. "God," he mumbled, his voice a bit muffled due to his parched mouth. He absentmindedly licked his lips to moisten them. He lifted a hand to rub his head before his squinted gaze slowly took in his strange surroundings, feeling a tad disoriented. More so, his migraine made it hard to think straight, as such he was confused where and when he was.

And then, it hit him like a massive tidal wave. Everything that had gone down the night before, from the mildly annoying to the downright horrific, came back to him. His eyes widened, and he paled slightly. God. Dammit. He gritted his teeth through the pain as he hoisted himself up onto his feet, grabbing onto the nearest sturdy fixture for support. As his clothes rubbed against him, his skin felt raw, no doubt due to sleeping in his--he didn't even want to finish that statement. He glanced outside of the makeshift stall that he was in. He let out a low growl when he noted the presence of guards. "Piss off," he irritably grumbled under his breath. He let out a small huff when he looked down to see the buckets of water, soap, and change of clothes. He supposed he should be grateful. Should being the operative word. Right now he was just in no mood for gratitude, or anything of a similarly positive nature, really. More than that, he was also thinking why the hell he thought this had all been a good idea.

He glanced back over at the guards, making sure they were minding their own business before he undressed. He made quick work of cleaning himself up. Well, as quick as his raging hangover would allow. Soon enough, he was semi-dry and partially dressed, i.e. he had everything except for a shirt on. He put on the shirt he was provided as he shuffled out of the stall. If one was paying attention at the time, they could see a Chinese tattoo on his left pectoral before it was subsequently covered up by the fabric. He looked back over at the guards with a half-hearted sneer.

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

As the sun rose up into the sky, rays of sunlight flittered into the carriage, casting shadows on Fyror's scarred face. There was a slight weariness weighing down on his features as he gazed out the window. He had slept little since he and Mr. Connolly had begun their journey to rescue Millicent the morning before. His mind had been, and still was, consumed by thoughts of her. He thought back on that moment they had shared whilst dancing together on that fateful night at Almack's. No matter how brief it had been, it was still one of his fondest memories after a lifetime of rejections. He could still vividly imagine the feel of her hand in his and picture the radiant smile that had graced her lips. Oh how he wished he could put a smile on her face again now.

Their moment was short lived. That night she was dealt a great blow with the tragic death of her stepsister at the hands of the Soulless, and in one fell swoop, she had nearly lost her stepmother too. And then there was Lord Rutherford. The mere thought of the despicable man made his blood boil, and he would be lying if he said it hadn't hurt his heart to see Millicent in his arms. Worse yet though, that poor excuse for a man, let alone a lord, took advantage of Millicent's moment of weakness and used it against her for his own nefarious desires. He was leading her on a path of ruin and torture, a path that would only lead to one thing: a slow, painful death. The information in Dr. Graham's file, the explicit details of what Lord Rutherford's previous wives had endured at the man's hands, was forever etched in Fyror's brain. And yet, despite how much it tortured him, in a way he honestly didn't want to forget it. For the moment he forgot Lord Rutherford's transgressions would be the moment that Millicent's plight was deemed as insignificant. It would be the moment that Lord Rutherford escaped justice. But was it really justice that Fyror wished to dish out? Or was it truly vengeance?

But as they reached the edge of Manchester, all thoughts on the matter quickly fled. Fyror was thrust back into reality at the sight of rising columns of smoke through the canopy of trees. The air became increasingly laden with the unmistakable stench of death and burnt remains the further they traveled into the heart of Manchester. He glanced back at Gerard, alarm lighting up the amber color of his one good eye. His jaw set in a hard line as his gaze returned to the window. His hands curled around the edge of his seat as if to steady himself. The moment the carriage stopped to change horses he was out the door in an instant. His red coat made him easy to spot, but the stern expression on his mangled face didn't necessarily make him seem the most inviting.

---

---

---

---

---

Colette realized then and there that she had no clue where anything was. She only just traveled out here and apart from her home and the party she attended, she did not know of anything else.

She could curse herself for being so stupid. This had to be what her maid was talking about, but she was so haughty and high-minded, assuming she could just walk into town and help other people.

The town itself seemed to survive the attack. Buildings were damaged, but most she saw seemed repairable. If she were handier, she would help to repair them, but she knew very little about craftsmanship. it was the smell that was the most troubling. The reminder of the attack the night before. No, if she wanted to help, she would need to find her way around town and she would have to ask for help. She glanced around for someone to ask.

She turned down a street and saw a carriage changing horses. The man outside of the carriage carried an expression that said he was anything but helpful, but Colette had no one else. If worse came to worse, she would go about her way. She hurried along, catching up to the man. "Excuse me, monsieur? I am afraid I am lost. I am new to this city and wish to help after the attack. Do you know where I may go to provide aid?"

Constantin had more or less snapped in that moment as the news of Veta's disappearance had made him realize that leaving her to her own devices without oversight last night was probably the worst idea that they could have done given the situation and god dammit she had proven to create a problem once more. Yesterday she had gotten herself frozen and nearly drowned and now this!!!

The firewalker threw his hands up in irritation before running a hand through his hair, his expression filled with a mixture of concern and anger. This was going to be such a massive damned problem he couldn't even guess what they were to do! Who bloody knew where that problematic girl had went. He looked around before looking at himself and around again.” Right... father, I will join you there in a few moments.” He added and quickly hopped to get dressed. He pulled a shirt, trousers and his coat before taking his weapon too. He had a feeling he was going to need it extremely soon.

With a great speed he stormed out of the tent where his father waited for him. Constantin was tying his hair while he moved.” She was just gone?” He asked as his father replied to him that more or less she was gone and he hadn't heard more details before he came to wake him up.” I svear someone has to really give her some proper punishment for pulling stunts like this... didn't she learn her lesson yesterday?”