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With his arms full, Thalken could do little other then squint his eyes and avert his gaze to combat the intensity of the sun as he stepped outside of the stables. Damn. He grimaced as the intense light reignited the pounding in his head. Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness of his surroundings, he reluctantly looked up and through squinted eyes glanced around. The whole circus seemed to be in an uproar about something, bits and pieces of conversations coming to him but not really penetrating the haze he was in. Whatever. Wait-- It took him a moment to realize that they were actually packing up, and doing so like they were preparing to leave in a hurry. For some reason, that didn't exactly settle well with him. It was probably because it meant his fate would be decided sooner rather than later like he would prefer. He felt like crap. What did you expect? This is great, just great, he thought with increasing irritability.

He looked about for a minute or two or three before locating the people that the guards mentioned to give his clothes to. He wasn't going to just ask the guards for directions, obviously. Once he set his steely gaze on said people, he stalked over to them, unceremoniously dumped his crappy clothes, and then got the hell out of there before they could detect the rancid smell. He had some self-respect, okay? After that he wandered around aimlessly, glaring at any and all poor unfortunate souls who crossed his path. He was just not in a cordial mood if you couldn't tell. That is assuming he ever was cordial in the first place, but that was beside the point.

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Fyror's head tilted to the side slightly as his gaze seemed to continue to search Colette's. His brows rose a bit at her boldly spoken words, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. He liked her spirit, but at the end of the day, spirit wouldn't keep her out of harm's way. It could do quite the opposite actually if spiritedness led to cockiness. That's not to say that he believed Colette was necessarily being cocky or reckless, but it was more that he believed that it was a thin line easily crossed if she wasn't careful. He did get the distinct impression that she had undergone training at some point in time. Did that sway his skepticism or ease his overly protective nature? Not really. Nevertheless, she seemed dead set on this endeavor and would likely pursue it with or without him. He much preferred that she not go about this alone, so it seemed she had left him with little choice but to agree. His hands were tied basically. He supposed he could use the extra help anyways, what with Gerard bailing on him at the last minute.

"Alright, you can accompany me," he agreed, albeit reluctantly. He gestured for her to follow him back the way they had come to where his carriage was awaiting. As they walked along, they were met halfway by a man who informed him that the horses had been changed on his carriage and that it was fully stocked with provisions for two as requested. He expressed his appreciation before glancing back over at Colette. "The nearest port is in Preston, so I suggest we head there and acquire a ship if we wish to have any chance at catching up to Lord Rutherford and Ms. Wyndham," he explained to her. They made quick work of getting back to the carriage, and as the driver opened the door, Fyror curteously offered his arm to Colette in order to help her up into the carriage.

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Colette waited for Fyror's response, but it mattered not what he would say. She was now bound and determined to seek Millicent out. After all, she had just been given a task of returning this handkerchief back to her. She was not sure why, but it had to be important if they were going to risk their lives to get it to her. Soon enough though, he accepted her joining him, albeit reluctantly. Really, it mattered not to her if he wanted her or not, but it would be best to not go at this alone. "Thank you, Monsieur Kildragon."

She followed him to his carriage upon hearing the horses were changed. At least they would not be walking all the way there. She was unaware of just how far away the nearest port was, so she would trust Fyror on this matter. Protocol told her to accept the man's offer of his arm upon entering the carriage, though she wanted very much to go against it, if only to prove further that she did not need a man's help, nor desire it, but wasn't as if the man was rude. Overprotective, mainly.

She accepted it and entered the carriage, sitting down. "Quite the lovely carriage you have." Truth be told, she had seen better carriages, but it served its purpose, and she did love horses. She remembered her own horse fondly, wondering if she would ever see him again soon.

Constantin was really glad to be rid of the crazy German fellow. That said the way said crazy person left was as queery as his usual personality, muttering nonsense while riding his trusty steed...ahm no no steeds here it was a ferret. A magnificent ferret, that made Constantin wonder what the animal saw in it's owner, but who was he to judge? He was walking on embers for fun and life so not exactly the normality there either. He let out a sigh as his eyes moved away from the crazy one and back to Vlad who was eagerly getting more and more enthusiastic.

"...! Of course, Great Bazhooli." Constantin was nearly left without breath once his leather hugged him from the side... POWERFULLY! Also powerfully said loudly near his ears too. Those were at the borderline of hurting also. Took him a moment to regain his bearing, but he nodded in great enthusiasm himself." I thought so too indeed! And vith the local veather the earth shall be moist most of the time so trails should be vell defined and barring any unforseen dovnpours, should remain for quite a vhile!" He added in joyful exclamaition.

"Maybe they are running for something...?" Constantin gave a random suggestion with a hug. He was not terribly into the manner topic for discussion right now. Weddings weren't exactly his thing, but Vlad did pose a good question." Maybe someone vill try to stop it if they try here! Like a lover's traignle, a suitor vho might challenge the groom to a duel or something like that!" He gave even weirder proposition that seemed terribly funny to him. Then again he had heard stories aobut duels here so he wasn't sure if it could actually be the case, but it made a fine story to tell. Maybe they can make out a fire walking performance out of it at a later date!

"Hm?" Constantin made a sound of curiosity as Vlad seemed to be having his moment of brilliance right about now.

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Virginia's eyes widened, nodding with intrigue as they mentioned the woman with a blank face. She could not help but have her suspicions. Could that have been Millicent? She doubted it - Millicent had never been described as such, yet it was possible...no, she doubted that the man could have broken her so soon. She frowned, wondering if Manchester was within distance of her techniques. Of course, such a cowardly action of running from the Soulless would match Lord Rutherford's techniques.

"Are you aware of the physical distance between our present location and Manchester?" Virginia asked Mary quietly, hinting at her notion of attempting to run her soul ahead to catch a glimpse. Perhaps even just diverting their course, if they were not in range, would allow her to eventually be placed in the general area she would need to be. She just needed to be close enough to see Millicent - or to see evidence of her presence. She then smiled and gave thanks to those who had answered their questions, waiting for Mary's confirmation before retiring to the room, knowing that a glimpse ahead would be of great aid at any rate.

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Initially, Maeve couldn't help but think positively towards Lady Kirkpatrick's sponsorship as an alternative for Roisin - but as always, nothing worth wanting came without a price. She didn't want Roisin to have a debt to be paid later in her life. She wanted Roisin to be free of all of that. She knew that her daughter wouldn't have a perfect life - she was deaf - but she didn't want Roisin to be saddled with obligations on top of her disability. She had a creative and imaginative mind. She would have been so happy and proud to see Roisin become an educated young woman, marry for love, and write books about the beauty of the Irish countryside.

"Aye, me lady," Maeve agreed, nodding as Lady Kirkpatrick headed off. She finished her own breakfast quickly, having made the decision to commit to her initial plan for Roisin. Unless the situation soured drastically, she'd avoid the sponsorship possibility. Once finished with her breakfast, Maeve went up the stairs and collected their things, taking them down in loads she could manage and setting them into the carriage. It took her only a few trips before she had the task completed, giving Rory a small smile once she saw him. She hadn't quite decided yet if she was still cross with the bumbling "father."

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"Mmm..." began Vladimir, his eyes bright with the rush of possibility flooding his brain. He looked to Constantin, shaking his finger in a manner that screamed he was a step or two away from a bonafide "AHA moment". He then loosed his intentions into the air around him, without really giving explanation. "Talink boy, Constantin Firevalker. Talink boy. Ve must avay!" Such was the nature of Master Vladimir Dmitrievich Alexandrov, first heir of Baron Alexandrov and the reigning Great Bazhooli. His brain firing a mile a minute, fast enough not to notice when his feet swiftly carry him off before his mouth explained his actions. All anyone farther away from Constantin could see was a look overtake him before he rushed away in the direction of the stables, asking the occasional question to passersby or guards.

Despite the seeming chaos of the Circus breaking camp, it was quite organized enough for people to give directions, or at least point in the general direction of the Outsider and his assigned overseers. So it was no surprise when Vladimir found himself standing face to face with Thalken, giving a generally positive, optimistic expression. "Mr. Talink! I am trusting you are doing vell? Treated nice, vith respect, da?" He nodded his head expectantly, as if telegraphing the appropriate response to his question. Answer or no, he continued, "Am having problem vith little custom of London people. Friend Igorevich says you are not knowing, but I am thinking maybe you are knowing. From here, da?" He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the side and placing his hands behind his back in a way that implied scholarly thought. "If could answer, vhy vould man and woman, engaged in public eye; vhy vould they run to Land of Scots and not marry at hometown? Vhat is reason?"

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In the room, Mary regarded Virginia's and Veta's inquiry from just earlier. They needed rest; honest, solid rest, but their questions were highly valid. The problem was, she could not accurately give an answer. "In honesty, I cannot say. The last time I was near this area, I was very young. Perhaps we might consult a carriage house or coach operator before we depart. They are likely to have accurate maps and know the best routes."

So far as rest was concerned, Mary could sleep on the back of a horse if necessary, so long as the animal knew the way to go. It was a matter of necessity sometimes; as part of her training she was apprenticed to a few different priests and knights. Travel under less-than-ideal circumstances while struggling to meet a timetable meant that one found little ways to get in food and sleep that often tested one's fortitude. So when Mary selected a fairly comfortable lounging chair in which to take her rest for the hour or so they would be in Nottingham, she knew she would be good to move at a moment's notice. She did not know of the Training techniques utilized by the Russians nor the New World, and so thought it best to err on the side of caution. "Take the bed, as it please you. We have a long way to go yet."

Annan: Once the carriage is out from, Rory is waiting and helping as much as Maeve wants, he seems to be trying not to step on toes. Lady Kirkpatrick returns but the fumbling father is no where in sight. She informs Maeve that he has some work to do in town with the church and he will catch up with them tomorrow. Today they are headed for the Kirkpatrick House and then. It will only take about an hour via carriage. So it won't be long before they get there.

Climbing into the carriage the woman gets comfortable and wait for Maeve to join her before Rory climbs up top and takes off. The father can be spotted as they pass the church standing outside of it with another man of the cloth talking. He looks over and smiles faintly, nearly tripping over his own two feet as the carriage passes by. You can hear Rory up top laughing at the sight but he keeps moving. The other man with him catches him and keeps him from falling into the mud.



London: The circus is packing up and things are going as smoothly as one could ask for. Ludwig is not back yet, or at least no one has noticed him coming back. The boys are in Vlads "home" right now and Sister Sophia is getting them something to eat. At this rate the circus will be packed up and ready to go in the next couple of hours hopefully.

Manchester: The carriage was off and going once the two were in and ready. The driver didn't seem to care that there was one less man and one more woman than when he had gotten them there. Before going he let the pair know that it would be roughly 2 hours to get to Preston and that they would not stop again unless needed.

Nottingham: Veta is resting currently. From Notthingham to Manchester, if someone goes and asks someone in the inn, they will know it is about 80 miles. Right now an hour or two down time will do the girls a wonder. Now, Virginia can attempt to use a skill and see what she can see. She wouldn't reach Manchester but who knows what she might come across anyways.

~Quick note~ I will be jumping time over an hour or two next update - so you might want to collab a bit and such to cover the time jump. This way we can move forward.

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Thalken rubbed his head whilst keeping his head low to try to keep some of the sun out of his eyes. He suddenly stopped short in his tracks though when someone stepped in front of him. His gaze slowly came up, squinting slightly as he tried to get a proper look at who it was. It turned out that it was The Great Bazhooli. Great. He supposed with some inkling of gratitude that at least it wasn't that crazy German fellow. Ludwig, that was his name, right? Yeah. Whatever. Like it really matters. He grimaced as Vladimir's booming voice egged on his lingering migraine. Could he not like tone down the volume a bit? You know to like something lower than mute.

He snorted, rolling his eyes. Did he look alright? Doubtful. He chose to otherwise ignore the man's first line of questions. They were just pleasantries after all. Not to mention the fact that he highly doubted that the man truly cared how he had been treated. Thalken was essentially an intruder upon their home, so why would he? With the so-called pleasantries brushed aside, Vladimir soon cut to the chase, stating what he truly wanted of the former mercenary. Information, the man wanted information. Interesting. Thalken crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow at Vlad in a silent invintiation to do continue on with the specifics. His brows furrowed slightly as the man's words washed over him.

The Russian man was referring to Gretna Green if he wasn't mistaken. Oh, he knew of the place. Unfortunately. It shouldn't surprise anyone that his father had done a dealing or two at the place. Any sketchy place would do just fine, after all. The thought occurred to him that if the marriage arrangement between him and the Lady Crypt was still on the table, his father would likely take full advantage of said place. Perhaps his father still would. All it would take was to kidnap Lady Crypt and whisk them away to Gretna Green, and then they would be set. Scotland had less regulations regarding marriage than England did. Less regulations meant less suspicion would fall on them. They could practically do whatever they wanted.

Thalken's eyes darkened at that notion, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. "Gretna Green," he finally bit out with seeming distaste. "It's just beyond the border. The marriage laws in Scotland aren't as strict. They're practically nonexistent, really. People go their to elope or to just forgo all the time-consuming protocols of England." He eventually met Vladimir's gaze again, but this time his expression was mostly blank.

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Once Miss Fontaine was safely inside the carriage, Fyror followed in behind her. He took the seat across from her, his musket still laying there as it had been for most of the journey. He had a bad feeling that he would be needing it, whether that be for Soulless or for a certain person, he knew not. He nodded to the carriage driver as the man explained that it would be a two hour ride to Preston. He figured that much, but nevertheless, the fact still gnawed on him that by the time they even made it to the port Lord Rutherford and Ms. Wyndham would be several more leagues ahead of them.

As the door was shut behind them, he looked out the carriage window. It wasn't hard to tell by the harsh lines of his face and the general tension pervading his demeanor that he was stressed. He glanced back over at Colette at her comment about the carriage. "It's not mine. We switched ours out for this one several stops back," he replied a bit plainly. He then looked back out the window, letting an awkward silence fall between them. He ran a hand over his face. It was hard to tell exactly what Fyror was thinking in that moment. Whatever it was, it clearly weighed heavily on him. He eventually glanced back over at Colette. He let out a small sigh, realizing he was being rude by ignoring her. He turned to face her once more. "So, what brings you here to England?" he asked, attempting to strike up a conversation.

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Colette knew the trip would not be quick or easy, but as she had already made up her mind, there was no turning back. Much like her companion in front of her, she was also stressing out. She knew Lord Rutherford was not a gallant man he appeared to be in front of others. The marks on Millicent and her overall demeanor whenever he entered the room was proof of that alone, but instead of insisting she come with them or having them stay behind to run to her house for shelter, she let them both go. She may as well have tied the noose around her neck.

No, she mustn't think like that. If there was any hope of saving her, it was what they were doing. She would be all right.

It had only occurred to her that she had not listened when Fyror spoke to her. Realizing that was rude, as the man had offered her transportation and her company, she glanced back with a warm smile of her own. "Looking for a...how do you say...a scenery change? I love my home, but it can be very boring. I have traveled to England with my father before and enjoyed myself, so I decided to come here, more or less alone. But what of you Monsieur Kildragon?" She would not tell the man the whole truth, not yet.

Constantin wasn't really new to Vlad's usual way of acting. The way the man tended to act faster than he would explain things was a well known fact. After all he was THE GREAT BAZHOOLI! He just nodded with an affirmation as he watched Vlad speak about that person who had ahm filled his pants last night apparently? He wasn't sure if it was that person whom Vlad meant, but frankly there was little chances for it to be anyone else. No other external persons were to be at the circus right at this moment as far as he knew.

He sighed and with a normal place started walking in Vlad's more or less running steps. He walked slowly without hurrying right now. There was not much to hurry to. Vlad will get his information from the Talink boy and Constantin at best will have to pistol whip him, sadly he suspected this was way too good of assumption so it was possible no pistolwhipping will be at hand. Sighing once more he continued walking towards the stables in Vlad's steps.

It didn't take long to frankly locate the target. Vlad was being loud around the probably hangover Talink boy and Constantin was not in the mood of reminding the loud russian about it. In fact he enjoyed the loud nature of Vlad, especially around hangover people he didn't like. It was sheer pleasure for Constantin. He had gotten just close enough to hear the talk enter the lesser marriage rules and laws part. Well... that was something to hurry towards to. But why did they want to marry so fast? What was the point unless one party was really wanting something from the other party? Maybe someone was hurrying to break the wedding so they had to hurry and have it?

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Virginia nodded, thinking for a moment. She supposed it was unfair to expect Mary to be able to jump through such mental hoops, after such a great length of time had passed since she was last in this area. It would have been like expecting James to be able to know his way around all of England perfectly. He was too young to be able to navigate with any skill and had he left for another country, she would not imagine that in ten years time he would be able to give any approximate distance between two cities. "I'll go make further inquires," Virginia said softly.

After a bit of speaking with those at the inn, Virginia determined the distance to Manchester was out of range. She frowned, but decided that given they needed to stay and rest, it would be apt to make an attempt anyways. She then retreated to the room that Veta had already headed to. Once in the room, Virginia gave her companions a soft smile. She then whispered a slight prayer to Veliona, hoping that the danger of Sokw would not befall her. There was always a chance of becoming lost while using it to travel, due to its great distance.

She sat cross legged against the wall, in order to allow Mary and Veta use of the more comfortable pieces of furniture and Virginia closed her eyes, relaxing her mind as she began to use Sokw.

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Maeve smiled in spite of herself as she saw the father dithering and fuddling about. While he had many childlike qualities to him, she now realized that it was an act - just a trick in order to lull people into a false sense of security. Or of course, that was what Maeve now believed about him. She supposed it was hypocritical of herself to be cross with him. She tended to change her own personality in these sorts of situations in order to be exactly what was required of her. Her real personality was shining through in her interactions with Lady Kirkpatrick, however.

Hearing Rory's laughter on the top inspired laughter in Maeve as well, as much as she was attempting to contain it. "Yer man is gonna trip into 'is own grave one day," Maeve mused with a laugh. She wouldn't have been surprised if something like that had already happened to him - if he were attending a funeral or even presiding over one, only to trip and fall into the grave before the casket had even been lowered. Though she supposed for a Protestant service, they more or less deserved it. Catholicism was the one true religion in Maeve's mind, whereas Protestantism was just emblematic of their British overlords.

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"Aha!" came the noise of sudden knowledge caressing the brain of The Great Bazhooli. "AHA!" he said again. Yes, he and his people were about to massively uproot themselves and travel northward, across the vast and stodgy country of England with the sole purpose of locating and assisting their Grand Duchess. Not just her, but see to the Lady Crypt as well if, as he suspected, she went with Elizaveta. Having found what amounted to an extended and remote branch of their family was a wondrous thing. It would be a shame to lose them now. Vladimir wasn't about to say a thing to Thalken about his thoughts on the situation, nor even anything really about the situation at all.

This was not to say that he wasn't grateful. He dropped a foot back an gave an extended bow, tipping his hat while maintaining his gaze upon the grim and unhappy looking fellow. Perhaps he did not know it, but he had unwittingly just performed the deed of a decent man. A pity, considering that his family desired awful things for his family. This was a thing which would have to be rectified with steel and blood, eventually, by the look of things. Right now, the warm and fuzzy feelings of sentiment urged him to simply let it go for that moment; there would be time enough later for pressing festivities of that nature. "Talink-Man! Mr. Talink, son of Talink the Senior! Spasibo, eh, vith the Thank Yous. Much to prepare. Much!"

He readjusted his hat upon his noble and thickly coiffed head, then spun about to return to the rapid deconstruction of the Circus. He had to find his father. He had to find Viktor. Hell, he had to find a map. "Vhere hell is Green of Gretna...?" he mumbled to himself, attempting to locate the others in charge their people.

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If Virginia was going to skip a moment of rest to utilize some form of meditative Colonial ability, then Mary was honorbound to act as her protector until such time as she regained full awareness of the would around her physical form. She wasn't quite sure how it was supposed to work when Virginia went on one of her trips outside of herself. It was a thing she had mentioned a few times in the past, but never to any detail. It was interesting to her, even as it was beyond her grasp to learn any more than Virginia could be called upon to to consecrate water or bless items of the Faith.

It reminded Mary of a point of conversation that was bought up among the Graveolase, actually. The people of Training needed to rely upon one another, have their weaknesses covered by the strengths of others. They became powerful as a whole because of this, and haughty. Prideful. Maybe even too powerful without the widespread purpose of the Soulless threat to wage eternal war against. But their pride was palpable. Tactile. Excluding all others. They had lost the lesson.

Well, Mary hadn't. As Virginia settled into her trance, the Apostolic wrapped one of her rosaries partially around her wrist and stood from her chair for just as long as was necessary to draw two elegant-seeming shortswords. She gave one a flourish, tossed it end over end and caught it by the handle, and sat back down. The Lady Crypt's body would be guarded while she was "away", as God was her witness.

Kirkpatrick House: "Indeed. And manage to bugger it up so horrifically that by some flubbery the shovel would kick the dirt back in place and bury himself alive," Lady Kirkpatrick said as she tapped her cane on the floor of the carriage. "How that man has managed to remain alive this long must be some grace of god. I am convinced that the lord only keeps the man alive as comic relief. His own personal jester."

"Now when we arrive my blithering idiot of a Nephew is going to make a show that he is your boss employer as this was his idea. Nevermind that I control the finances. Dottering fool, the wits of my family seemed to have died off, that or the balls did. I am not sure which as of yet. Remember this, do NOT suffer fools in my home. He can threaten to fire you, have you removed, whatever he wishes but it is MY say to whether you stay or go. You have my full permission, and even encouragement to put anyone within my blood or home in place as needed. You are tending to me, not them. Understood?" Sally asked as her brow rose slightly.

After a while, the carriage pulled to a halt on a gravel road before a gate. Through an iron gate, one could see a large house with a red door. "Open the gate!" a Rory yelled from the top of the carriage. They had arrived at Kirkpatrick house.



London: Constantine gets a vision - There is a flash of a white tiger running over wet roads. Sounds of hooves near by. There is speak but one cannot figure them out, they are too garbled. There is a sense of haste. A flag can be seen flying, it is green with a stag on it.

The circus is half way done with getting things wrapped up with taking things down and getting packed up. The tents were down and being rolled up, the larger animals helping with the heavier lifting and moving. It was going smoothly. Ludwig hadn't returned yet but was that really surprising? The man had to get his stuff and where he had to go to get that was anyones guess. He didn't exactly make a lot of sense when he spoke and he was easily distracted.

Between Manchester & Preston: The road traveled to Preston is rough. The carriage is managing but it is very bumpy. Causing you two to bounce around a lot but there is nothing that can be done about it. You travel slower and you risk never catching up. You go any faster and you risk an axle breaking. There are no stops or places to change a carriage out between Manchester and Preston so if it breaks you are up shit creek without a paddle.

Nottingham: Veta continues to rest. As Virginia is looking she is not spotting much, people traveling from Manchester to Nottingham, a few traveling north from Nottingham. There is a family picnicking, the child is hurt and very pale. They are speaking about the attack. The parents are blaming themselves for being at the party at the Hall instead of home with him. The servants are by the carriage, looking rough. They are speaking in hushed voices. Virginia will be able to hear them. "Of course he, he wants to ensure this marriage goes through. Poor thing, what is she turns up.. It's none of our nevermind."

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The carriage ride to Preston was filled with bumps and jumps and Colette didn't particularly like being jostled around the carriage car. Granted, it was better than the alternative, especially since there would be no way to repair the carriage or change should they end up breaking down. It was better to be caught up in this bumpy carriage, especially if they wanted to make it in decent time. They still had to find a boat to travel and she was unsure if Fyror had the means for that.

She didn't know much about her traveling companion, other than his dedication to helping Millicent. Was it out of pure generosity or was there something else there? "If you do not mind me asking, Monsieur Kildragon, but how do you know Mademoiselle Millicent? You seem very...how you say, anxious to meet up with her." Admittedly, curiosity was her biggest issue, but one could hardly blame her.

Ahhh all good things come to an end. Since Vlad was ending his loud 'speaking' around the local, it seems Constantin wouldn't be able to enjoy it any longer. He had just about thrown a last look at tanlink...ehh talnink ahh... Talink! What a weird name, Constantin finally realized. It was such a mouthful to say to him and even harder to remember. He was used to the eastern names and naming sense. Crazy westerners and their weird westerner names at times.

He was just about to go about his business and help his folk with getting their tent and luggage in order when yet another vision struck him. What a weird day this was turning out to be sometimes there were visions none at all sometimes there were many. A second one so soon was rather not as usual. He steadied himself as the information flooded him. Tiger, hooves, feeling of haste and a green flag with a stag.

"I svear they should give me a compass that points to her already..." Constantin mumbled with a tired sigh, putting the images in his head in order to know what to report to Vlad. Then he bolted after Vlad who was moving away in search of Vladish things." Vlad, Vlad, I've had another vision! Green flag vith a Stag!" The firewalker called loudly in a circus fashion so to be sure the man hears him.

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Thalken's dark eyes widened at Vladimir's sudden outburst. So, his information had been--helpful? So it would seem apparently. Yet, in that ever brooding mind of his, he couldn't possibly understand how helpful he had actually been, in that moment, by answering a seemingly simple question. He couldn't believe it really, that he could have rectified a situation, put minds at ease, perhaps even helped save a life. It just didn't seem to be in his forte, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how much he wanted it to be true. So it went, this seemingly never ending dilemma of his. Yet, perhaps it would seem, that he did the most good when he was trying the least to prove himself.

Now, with all this in mind, it most certainly came as a big shock to him when Vladimir actually thanked him. I mean who does that?! Crazy people! He went a bit slack-jawed as he stared at the man as if he had just grown a second head. He would ignore for the moment that he kept being called by the name Talink that he no longer wanted to be associated with. He was just otherwise too engaged in his current state of astonishment to make some snide remark on it. "Uh, you're welcome?" he said as a bit more of a question rather than a statement. He blinked as the man straightened his top hat before rapidly departing, thus leaving Thalken behind in his current state of shock.

He finally glanced over at the other man, Constantin, who had come over with The Great Bazhooli. He ended up doing a doubletake, and his face paled slightly as he recognized the man from the night before. The Russian man had been the unfortunate victim of Thalken's vomit volcano. Oh crap, he thought, before paling even more at the irony of that thought. GAH! God dammit!! He quickly spun on his heels and marched off in the opposite direction.

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Fyror was an ever intent listener as the Mademoiselle Fontaine spoke, telling him of how she ended up here in England. His gaze, which was visibly softer albeit a tad bit weary, took in her features. Despite the way her face seemed to light up when she talked about the topic at hand, there was something to the depths of her brown eyes that belied stress, and perhaps something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. His lips thinned slightly. Was his own anxiety rubbing off on her, causing her undue stress? That wasn't at all his intention. He just--well, he wasn't very good at turning off his emotions, or his heart, which often seemed to care to the point of breaking. But was that even possible, to care too much? Perhaps for his own sanity it was.

He blinked, slightly baffled when she said that she had come to England practically by herself. And yet, he also couldn't help but be reminded of a certain someone, a woman who preferred the clothes of men to the ways of women, who would have done something as "scandalous" as going somewhere without a chaperone. He mentally shook his head to prevent the melancholy from creeping in at the loss of Ms. Crane. No, he hadn't in fact known her as well as he would've liked, but nevertheless, as far as he was concerned, any life lost was a tradegy. He sort of came back to his senses when Colette inquired of what he was doing in England. "Well, uh, I sort of live here," Fyror stated the corner of his lips quirking up slightly in amusement. He cleared his throat and quickly retrained his expression to something more neutral. "My family has lived in Colchester Garrison since I was seven years of age. My father is a colonel in the British infantry, you see. We would spend most of the year at the garrison, only really coming into London for the social gatherings of the Season. I did however spend ten years training in Japan," Fyror continued on, as if the slip of humor had never even occurred.

As their carriage continued on its path to Preston, the roads became increasingly bumpy. He grabbed the edge of the seat with one hand and pressed the other up against the side of the carriage to steady himself. He shook his head lightly. This wouldn't end well if the carriage were to break down, stranding them miles from the nearest checkpoint and God forbid even further behind Lord Rutherford and Ms. Wyndham. He glanced out the window at the passing scenery before looking back over at Colette as she asked another question. He blinked at hearing her particular question of choice. He looked a little flustered as he looked away in a failed attempt to hide that before mentioned fact. The way she worded the question made it sound as if she was asking how they first met, yet he wasn't foolish enough to not realize that she was wondering about something more than that. She wanted to know what Millicent meant to him. Honestly though, he couldn't answer that question, as he didn't truly know himself. All he knew was that he couldn't just stand back and do nothing while she suffered.

Fyror hesitantly forced himself to look back at Colette. His one good eye was filled with uncertainty. "I...I honestly don't know how to properly answer that question other than that Ms. Wyndham and I spent a few fleeting moments together," he replied earnestly.

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"...finding Viktor, finding Father... finding Viktor... da, finding Father..." Granted, he didn't necessarily have to speak aloud in English, but his own grasp on the language wasn't as precise as he would have liked it. Using it almost constantly helped work out the rough parts, as it were, but it was most effective in the presence of native speakers. Even if they didn't correct grammar directly, the odd expression, even amongst the more polite in general society, was helpful in giving his grasp upon the language of the land more polish. Admittedly, he would still insist upon using a rougher pronunciation during a performance. It was simply good showmanship.

But the words he was speaking in his slightly inexpert English were for the actual purposed indicated. He needed to locate both The Baron and their Ringmaster to inform them of the visions, and the interpretation of said vision by the local man. They had a destination in mind now, and with the possibility of a Soulless attack looming, they all needed to organize as if they were on the hunt. Hopefully, the good people of England wouldn't take too much offense at the present might of the Circus cutting a hasty swath northward through their country.

His train of thought was derailed momentarily as he heard the voice of Constantin from behind him. He stopped, allowing his fellow performer the opportunity to catch up to him and explain. "Another vision, and so soon Constantin Firevalker? Tretiy Glaz is strong vith you today. It is speaking not to me at all, but you... O's and K's, Flag vith green stag? No? Aha! Green flag vith stag! Yes! I am understanding it now! I ... da, am having nothing."

Vladimir looked back in the direction from where he had just come, hoping to see the Londoner, Thalken. "I am needing to find Father and Viktor. If vould please, brother Constantin, needing to find out vhat it means. Da?"

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The stories of the Colonial abilities and their journeys of the spirit seemed so much more eventful, exciting even, when Mary had read about them. Naturally, these stories were told from the point of view of the person taking the journey; only very rarely from that of the dutiful bodyguard standing watch over what was essentially a temporary corpse. Virginia seemed so relaxed. Without a consciousness to properly animate her form, it was as if she was fast and fitfully asleep. A person with a less strict code of ethic would likely have used the opportunity to pose her body in interesting and amusing ways. Perhaps with mouth agape, one hand over her sternum and the other reaching out, not unlike a horizontal opera singer. Or maybe, with enough time, one may acquire several lengths of rope and fashion a sort of "Crypt Marionette Show". The possibilities were limited only by one's imagination and depths of immorality.

But not so Mary. No, Dame Commander Hale held her own silent vigil, observing the guidelines of decency and unquestionable points of honor during this, her good friend's moment of physical uncertainty. She maintained the quiet and the serenity of the location until such time as Virginia required to return to her earthly vessel had passed. Thus was her duty, without reservation nor troubling thought to the contrary.

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Virginia always enjoyed taking walks using Sokw. To her mind's eye, a step could cover the span of an inch or a mile. She felt light, as if she could glide or soar if she wished. It was a freedom that was not afforded to her when she traveled using the means allotted to her by birth. Walking, carriage, boating - nothing could ever compare to the stunning sights afforded to her by Sokw. As she drifted along, she saw many people traveling from Manchester to Nottingham - and a few others coming in from the north.

She couldn't help but feel for the injured child. Such macabre delights always did leave the risk of bloodshed and loss - but it seemed pitiful and tugged at her heart. She looked at the family and servants with curiosity as she overheard the conversation. The talk of marriage - ensuring it was seen to - was it just a coincidence? She noted their faces and garments, hoping to memorize each detail of them, in case after speaking with Mary and Veta they decided to seek out this family. But at any rate, she took a breath and began to backtrack, working to return to her body. There was always a chance of becoming lost and stuck whilst using Sokw, yet she was certain that the Dark Mother was watching over her.

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Maeve couldn't help but chuckle in agreement with Lady Kirkpatrick's musings. The image was one that she would remember fondly - of Calum burying himself alive, only to be brought back for the personal amusement of the divine. "Understud, m'lady," Maeve replied confidently, as Lady Kirkpatrick explained the power dynamic at work in her house. She was quickly warming up to Lady Kirkpatrick and was beginning to wish that this employment wasn't merely a falseness in order to spy on her house. She wondered what Lady Kirkpatrick would say if Maeve was revealed as a spy - would she cane her or offer her a scone with jam?

"You have a lovely 'ome, m'lady," Maeve complimented, as the house came into view. It was certainly the nicest house that Maeve had ever been allowed to enter. She had grown up poor and married poor, only gaining physical power through the Brennan gang - not monetary. Of course, she and Mary-Clare had been making attempts to increase the financial status of the family, but men would be men. She often times felt that Seamus and the others thought with their fists first, rather than making the tactical ploys that could get them out from the mud.

Kirkpatrick House: Sally scoffed. "A pittance of hell considering where I should be dwelling but in time all things are made right," she said about her home as the gate was opened and the carriage pulled up to the front of the house. As Rory pulled back on the reigns the front door opened and a man stepped outside. "Blithering idiot number one," she said as he walked over to the carriage and opened the door.

"Aunt Sally, welcome back. It is wonderful you've returned," he said as he held his hand out to her.

"Oh would you kindly shove that shine back to your colon," she said flatly as she knocked him out of the way with her cane and exited the carriage of her own merit as Rory hopped down and started getting the luggage off the top of the carriage.

"Must you always be like this?" he asked as a child came barreling out of the front door. Tearing right towards the Lady Kirkpatrick as he flung himself into her skirts and tried to wrap his arms around them.

"Aunti, aunti, aunti, aunti," he said. Sally had to brace herself against the carriage to keep from knocking over.

"St. Christopher give me patience," Sally said as she reached down and grabbed the child, flinging him out of her skirts and giving him a look that could kill. He just grinned from ear to ear and slowly the look faded to a smile. "Now, Charles is that how we conduct ourselves in public?" she asked rather softly.

"What public?" he asked before spotting Maeve in the carrige. "Oh that public, sowwy Aunti," he said as he stepped over and held his hand out to Maeve. "I..am Charles Kirkpatrick, it..it's a pleaswer to meetcha, can I a..a...as...help you out of the buggy?" he asked as he tried to put on his best gentleman appearance. Sally let out a breath and eyed her older nephew.

"Thomas, you must keep a better leash on that chit before be breaks my hip."



London: The circus was just about packed up and ready to go. The boys were playing by the mouse cages, Adam just staring at them intrigued as he would move his nose like they did. There was a buzzing sound and then suddenly a pile of hay seemed to erupt. It grew quickly and there was a cough as Ludwig looked around confused for a moment with a trunk at his feet. "Bedwetting piss bucket," he said as he batted the straw away, or was it webs, or was it the last remains of a Gobseterwhile? One never knows!

"Dried guts are better than wet ones," he exclaimed as he tripped and wobbled and turned over his feet to get out of the stack of hay or what remained of it. His arm snatching his trunk and his body trying to walk but not, a yank and a pull and a yank and a grunt, and a touch of the glasses, a squint of the eyes, another pull and finally a drag. "Here, here, I'm here, nothing to fear, I'm here," he said as he drug the trunk over to Vlad. "So glad to be here, not mad, hey, where's the tent? Theft, such a problem, big things go poof."

Preston: The carriage finally makes it to Preston, there are a lot of people about, seems to be a line of carriages in front of various inns. Some have hand written signs on the doors or in the windows that say "no room." Apparently the place is full up. There are ships in the harbor and talks of the attack in the streets.

Nottingham: Sitting up Veta looked around and spotted Virginia and Mary there. Her head tilting to the side slightly as she slipped off the bed and over to Mary. "Ve should get going. If she sleeping or something else?" she asked as she looked towards Virginia. Veta was well educated but she had never first hand witnessed someone performing something from a skill set from the colonies, so she was unsure if it was safe to shake Virginia awake at this point. It was best to ask.

“So it seems for the time being. I'm surprised too. Usually Tretiy Glaz can be so quiet for so long time for me.” Constantin nodded in agreement with Vlad. The fact that the ability seems to be speaking to him so much today had not gone unnoticed to him either. It was just weird... maybe the frequency of visions was boosted by some circumstance? Could be or it could be pure luck. He wouldn't count on some overarching reason, but who knew.

“Ohhh...” He replied, his eyes trailing at the direction Vlad was looking. Constantin gave a quiet sigh, but then reassuringly nodded.” I will talk with him. A person vho knovs these things vill be a good thing to have. As the Great Bazhooli vishes it to.” He stated and headed off to where he had left Thalken just earlier. He shouldn't be too far away given the situation and the little time that had passed.

The Talink boy seemed to be marching away from him so he ran after him.” VAIT, TALING BOY!” He called with clearly displeased voice, rushing after the man.” I got to ask you about a green flag vith a stag. Have you seen such a thing?” He called after Thalken. While he wasn't happy to talk with him, he also had to do it because Bazhooli wanted it. Circus above himself... Though the idea of pistol whipping Thalken was still crossing his mind. A few moments on the embers and he'd spill his beans if the need arose.

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It was quite obvious to Colette that Fyror was either not aware of his true intentions with Millicent or just was not willing to trust them with her. She could, of course, accept either of those. His answer satisfied her to some extent. "I hope you do not take offense to my question, Monsieur Kildragon, I meant no harm. It is just....I have never seen a man so willing to fight for a lady's honor unless he was particularly interested in the lady herself. It is nice to see, is all I will be saying." Many a time has Colette seen the other side of men. But she would not bore Fyror with those stories. After all, she barely knew him.

The trip was somewhat pleasant, but they had made it to Preston. One look and they could definitely tell it was bustling. The place was full, judging by the signs for no rooms. Still, there were plenty of ships. "This place is very busy. I would assume the attack has people concerned. Hopefully, we can find a ship to take us. Shall we?" Colette exited the carriage, eager to make her way forward.