Kirkpatrick House: "How do you feel about drawing and quartering someone?" Lady Kirkpatrick asked as she moved up the stairs with Maeve and Charles. Charles was happy to show the new woman to her room but wasn't too happy when his aunt dismissed him and told him to go play. That was until she planted the idea that frogs loved swimming in soup. It was getting close to lunch time and Sally knew that their guest would be taking her lunch in her room and she only ever ate soup at lunch. This seemed to put a skip in the boys step as he rushed off.

Once her and Maeve were in Maeves quarters she shut the door behind her and clicked her cane against the ground. "My quarters are adjacent to yours." Motioning towards the double doors at one end of Maeves room. "Breakfast is at 6, morning tea at 10, lunch at 1, afternoon tea at 4, supper at 7." she said as she pulled a piece of paper from her coat pocket, it had a broken wax seal on it. Looking down at it she reread it before slipping it back into her pocket. "You are here because of the oaf downstairs but you work for me. I will let you settle in." Turning she left the room and shut the door behind her.

It was a good ten minutes before a knock came to the door. "May I enter?" It was Thomas.



London: Game to play, we love to play, we love the games. As with all games one must reset the board. You can't just keep playing once the king is captured. You have to start over to protect the king or save the queen. God save the queen? Why save the queen? The black queen, not the white. Or was it white and not black? Black and white, wrong or right, write, black ink or red ink, black queen, red queen. No red queen. Cover the white queen, make her red, paint her red. Paint the roses red. Blood was never fun.

Insanity ran rampant but it wasn't running away. Never run away. Why run away? Run to. An eye to Mr. Talk. An eye to the wall. Moving through like little pieces. Each piece, little soldiers, one, two, three, keep moving, keep counting. One side of the wall, the other side of the wall. A grin, a move, back to the wall, move the growth, play the game, reset the board. Watch the wall close.

"Not mad, just glad," Ludwig said as he pushed his glasses up his face and watched the wall start to close back. He gave a look towards Thalken with a grin. "Not stupid, you care Mr. Talk." He gave an insane chortle before skipping back and catching up with the front of the circus, jumping back on the wagon he was assigned to and pulling out his journal. Oh he had much to write.

The Sea: The seas are calm and the winds are good. Was travel this good the night before? One could only hope it wasn't as to slow Rutherford down but at least if it was as good as it is now they were not losing more time. It gave hope. At this rate they would make good time to Port Annan. What happened once they reached Scotland was anyones guess. Every seemed to be going well as they reached further from the coast to get better winds, all but something a tad off. There seemed to be some sort of static in the air.

"That's odd," the Captain said as he rubbed the back of his neck where the hairs were standing up. The compass seemed to be pointing in an off direction and if anyone had a pocketwatch, it wouldn't be ticking. Did it just run down?

Nottingham: "Any information is useful, none of it vasteful, thank you," she said towards Virginia and then turned to thank Mary as Myska was starting to look more like himself. "Ve make haste, north," she said but she left the route up to Sister Mary. She knew the country better than the Grand Duchess.

Climbing up on Myska she got settled and waited for Mary and Virginia to do the same. Once they had she waited for Mary to take the lead. They had to hurry but what were they rushing to she wasn't sure anymore. Something was pressing them north, maybe Millicent was just an excuse to keep trucking in that direction but Elizaveta would not question gods guiding hand. She would keep moving north until the signs told her to go in another direction. God had yet to let her down. She was in England because of a vision.

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Colette had to admit she was a bit miffed at Fyror's reaction. She apologized purely for her taking charge when she really should have taken a step back, but she did not apologize for asking the other ships if they would be willing to take them on. What were they to do? With safety in mind, how would this small vessel compare to a Naval or Merchant ship? It seemed a smart idea to ensure they would make it to their destination alive and well.

She bit her tongue though. It would not do them well to get into a fight and Fyror did have a point (albeit, a small one). Instead, she settled into her seat and tried her best to close her eyes and rest. Fyror could do his own thing, she wanted off this ship as fast as possible.

However, rest did not come easily. She didn't enjoy travel by boat, but this experience was something a bit more. She could feel...something. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in attention as if a Queen was passing. She stood up, uneasily, and looked around. Something felt off. Part of her wanted to catch up to Fyror and ask him, but she was also defiant in that nature too. Maybe it was just the weather outside? Surely if something were wrong, the Captain would tell them?

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The jumbled talk of Ludwig doing what Ludwig did was enough to make Vladimir want to bang his head against a hard, flat surface. Were it not for the wondrous sight of the Wall parting to allow his Circus to pass through, he may very well have. It was something magnificent. Unfortunately, it was not a thing which would work out too horribly well for the people of London. Ok, so it wasn't a more familiar city with languages that made sense like Piatra Neamt or Kiev, but it was still a place worthy of not being overrun by hordes of slobbering, skin-chewing Soulless.

From atop his great, black horse, Vladimir heard the objections of their "guest", Thalken. In truth, he agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment expressed by the Londoner, even going so far as to mention something to that effect to Ludwig just earlier. Fortunately, he had gotten the answer. He thought. Vlad reared his horse around, clopping after Thalken with conversation in mind. "Talink! Da, Mr. Talink... Fortunate it is that ve are having the agreement about Vall, Yes? Vall cannot stay like Vall is, da?" He emphasized his point by waving toward the gaping aperture with a dramatic flourish. Leaning down just a little from his saddle, he spoke with but a hair less volume, "Playing the Chess, are you Mr. Talink?" A sly narrowing of his eyes accompanied his words, "Maybe you and Master Ludvig reset. Like Chessboard! I go with Circus. Organize. Plot mapping course. Naughty Ham, da? Ve go for ...The Naughty Ham!"

It occurred to Vlad that England folk had very strange names for places.

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It was an interesting time in the world, indeed, when a Grand Duchess from atop a likewise grand white tiger insists upon handing the reins, so to speak, over to someone like Mary. She considered the honor of the situation, indeed and the rationale behind it. They were traveling fairly incognito. Giving extra accords or honors to the woman would make them stand out almost as much as riding a white tiger through the English countryside would, even if it was merely the period at the end of the very long sentence describing the unbridled sense of confusion their overt presence would serve to create. That would be bad.

Mary ascended her dapple grey stallion, Cassius, and held a hand down for Virginia to likewise climb up. She looked into the Lady Crypt's eyes briefly, giving consideration to the knowledge imparted by her out-of-body experience. Truly, her belief in coincidence was not strong for incidents such as this, and most especially when there are sick and injured children (or child, as the case may be) that could benefit from their assistance. The second that everyone was settled and ready to move, Mary quietly asked Virginia, "The road to Manchester, correct?" as a means of letting her know that she did indeed intend to help the people witnessed in her astral journey. Mary guided her horse to the marked trade roads, searching for the signs indicating the correct route to the city of Manchester; it shouldn't be too amazingly difficult considering the line of people escaping the Soulless attack's aftermath. And posing the occasional question never hurt anyone.

North to Manchester. "Please let me know if you see those people again, Virginia. I would hate to miss them in our haste."

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Virginia nodded, stepping up to Mary's horse and taking her hand, thankful for the help in mounting it. She had the relatively easy task of just trying to stay on the horse and while it wasn't entirely pleasant, due to her lack of experience in riding, she had no doubt that it was far easier than conducting either of the steeds. She nodded at Mary in confirmation as she asked about the path that she had seen the injured child on. "Yes, the road to Manchester," she confirmed verbally.

If they could not help Millicent, Virginia had just about every intention currently of making Millicent a widow. She cared for her friend deeply and if Millicent would not choose to save herself, then Virginia would make the choice for her. At least as a widow, Millicent would have some elevated respect in society. And while her family was not as violent as some would believe, such as the Talinks, she had no objections to staining her hands red with Lord Rutherford's blood. It would be a form of community service at the end of the day.

And perhaps a dress rehearsal for what she would do to the persons who threatened her dear brother's life.

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Maeve paused to answer Lady Kirkpatrick's violent question until Charles was out of earshot. Her motherly instincts were kicking in and she didn't want to expose him to her answer - namely, that she wouldn't mind at all to do that. It would be all a means to an end, one in which Roisin would have the education and life that she deserved. "I fend it a bit violent, but if it needs ter be done then it needs ter be done," Maeve answered, once the boy was out of earshot. "Bit av a waste av rope, though." She had to imagine that even though it was the victim that was torn apart, the stress it put on the rope would halve its useful lifetime.

She nodded as Lady Kirkpatrick went into the routines of the house, committing them to memory. It struck her as an awful lot of tea, but she supposed that was how the rich lived. She had set her things down and unpacked what little she had, before she stored her luggage underneath the bed. She was glancing at the sketch of her daughter, before she slipped it away quickly as she heard knocks at the door, keeping it inside of the suitcases. "Aye, come in," Maeve replied.

Of all things Constantin ever thought he would witness in this weird land, moving walls was not one of them. It seemed almost unreal as the wall had opened filled him with awe and suspicion about long lost plans and intentions. Why would the wall open unless it was planned to be such in advance? Why would they build such a massive hole in the security if the enemy managed to open it? On that one would it be possible to open it from the other side? Those and so many other questions rushed into his mind as the circus was moving through the opening towards the outside.

As the wall had opened and they had left the Talink person seemed really mad about opening a breach into a wall meant to keep Soulless outside. His voice was loud and rude, but Constantin too understood his concerns. If the wall didn't close soon after they left, he would have thought that they indeed did a not so smart thing, not that he cared too much about London. If the Bazhooli said open wall so they can leave then that was that.

Well now that they were outside the wall, wall had closed and it was all a manner of getting the circus on the road, he relaxed into the carriage that his family was using, leaving his father to drive it. For all intensive purposes while they were on the road, Constantin didn't have too many things to do aside helping with fights. He wasn't a tracker or anything so he was going to wait and help as times to do so appeared.

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Thalken's strides faltered as the crazy German fellow's words washed over him. He found himself slowing to a halt, a shaky breath escaping his lips, before he looked over his shoulder at the man. The look on his face was mostly indecipherable as he simply stared at Ludwig as the crazy man was already going along his merry way. A big part of him didn't believe that the man had meant what he had said, that the ever cold mercenary that was Thalken actually had a heart. And yet, an even bigger part of himself wanted so much for it to be true. He was never good at expressing his inward feelings in a outwardly pleasant manner, so he was a bit unsure as to how he managed to con this person into seeing the truth that laid within him. As he faced forward once more and continued back towards his "assigned" wagon, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

However, he quickly smothered it as he heard The Great Bazhooli's booming voice behind him. As contradictory as it sounded, he wasn't quite ready for everyone to see all of his true colors. You could say in a way his usual standoffish exterior was a defense mechanism of a sort. He cleared his throat, testing his voice before speaking. "What?" he finally retorted gruffly to Vlad. Admittedly though his voice was a bit lackluster in regards to its usual level of coldness. What could he say, he was in a better mood now.

He arched a brow at the man, wondering what he was getting at. Glancing behind the man he could see that Ludwig was already on top of getting the wall closed back. He bit back a sastified smirk and instead opted for a matter of fact statement. "It seems that that matter is already dealt with," he stated simply. He started to turn away, but Vlad's last utterance gave him pause. "Uh, no. It's called Nottingham, not naughty ham." He shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes once his back was turned to the man. Foreigners.

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Fyror walked back out onto the main deck, allowing Miss Fontaine what little privacy she could get on this small fishing boat. He rubbed the weariness from his face, before gazing out at the open sea with a small sigh. He knew he needed some rest, that it would replenish his strength and hopefully his sanity. However, sleep had eluded him for much of this journey, so he kind of figured what was the point in trying for something that wouldn't happen. He was just too worried to sleep, worried about Millicent, worried that this was a lost cause, worried that he had failed her, worried--just plain worried. The stress of it all showed on his face in the form of worry lines and dark bags under his eyes and in the harsh set of his jawline. His bleeding heart made him an open book.

He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck as the hairs rose on end. However, it took him a few precious moments to shake himself out of his stupor enough to finally realize that something was amiss. That was when the static charge of the air became palpable to him, and it soon gave him a sinking feeling. His gaze swung back over to the Captain at hearing the man's words. He rushed over to the man's side, looking over his shoulder to see the malfunctioning compass in his hands. His auburn brows furrowed as he mentally tried to figure out what all these little signs meant. His breath whooshed out of him when a less than stellar realization dawned on him. And to think everything was going so well until this precise moment! "Dammit," he exclaimed. "Cargasts are coming."

A look of resolve quickly took over his features as he turned to address the others on board with a strong, authoritative air to him. "If my suspicions are correct, we have got incoming Cargasts. Someone light some torches, we may be able to deter them with that. Don't just stand there! Get a move on it NOW! We don't have any time to waste!"

Kirkpatrick House: Thomas stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Hope you are settling in fine," he started to say as he looked around, "Ms. Brennan." A slight smile came to his lips as he spoke her real name. "I'm sure my aunt has given you a list of rules and tasks and orders to follow. I am betting the biggest one is she is the boss." He ran his finger over the fireplace mantle. Rubbing his fingers together he finally looked over to her. "I want you to keep her thinking that. It is what you were hired for."

Walking over to the window he pulled back the curtain just so with the back of his hand as he looked out over the back lawn. "I need to know who she is talking to, when, what they are saying, anyone else that speaks to you, and anything else. So let's get started." Turing back to her he clamped one hand around his other wrist and eyed her. "Tell me, what do you think of our family Father."



London: Things were naughty, ham was good, yet did one really want to eat naughty food? It was all what they could think but those that were new knew what those that were old didn't. It was really cold, trails were cold. So old it was cold. but it would be hot, hot once again. Travel routes not traveled by the traveling in so very long. A shake of the head and a flick of the wrist, travel routes of of Europe were one of things he knew best.

"We go, no red, we go to green. Minty green, better green, northern green. Nothing naughty, all good, not mad, quicker we move the less sad." Apparently the man was better in his own mind than speaking to the public but his mind was a wonderland and he went down the rabbit hole, did he ever climb out? Climbing meant dirt, dirty dirty under the nails and in the hair, brown and black and red, no we wanted green. "Bristol!" he exclaimed. That was a bit out of the way wasn't it?

The Sea: Sailing sailing over the ocean blue. Wait, sorry, still on Ludwig mind. Okay, back on track. The ship is out to sea, the hair on the back of your neck is standing on end and on your arm as well. The small crew is on high alert but nothing can be seen as of yet then again if a Cargast was about to attack, it could be hard to be seen. If ever. And if it did, did it travel across the water or was it on the ship when they left the docks.

All these things were good questions. Yet could they be answered right then? It would be hard to think right then because even as static broke through the air the temperature started to drop and frost began to form along the railings of the ship, it dropped quick enough to even capture the moisture in the cloth of the sails and become heavier, causing them to sag instead of catching the wind when it died down a bit.

The Road North: The road is long and once they were out of town things seemed to be going alright. It was quiet as they traveled north, going as quickly as they could. What happened next was a blur as the world seemed to freeze around them, slowing actions or in this case reactions down. One could only seem to watch as the events unfolded.

And unfold they did as Myska was struck out of nowhere. Red pouring out over the white fur. Something came at them in a blur, and the sound of a shriek echoed through the air as the tiger dropped to the ground dead. Light flashed and darkness settled, it causing a strobging effect. Another shriek broke out and this time it was different. Suddenly it was all over and all felt normal again. That was accept for the fact that Myska was dead on the ground and Elizaveta was in the air again. Instead of being still this time though she was a good fifty years ahead of them and moving away quickly. Flakes of skin seemed to trail from around her, falling like snow as she was being whisked away.

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Colette was now awake and alert, given the fact the hairs on the back of her neck continued to stand up straight. She had heard no word from anyone, but something was definitely amiss. She heard Fyror's voice and exited the room, feeling the cold instantly as the ship seemed to be taken over by frost. The ship was slowly being affected by this.

Colette looked around at the crew, now seeing them in action. If Fyror had the right idea, a Cargast was coming. Would it attack them? Why? And did this have something to do with the recent attack back in England? It seemed the Soulless were getting bolder, if this was indeed a Cargast attack. But even if it wasn't, they still had to do something, or else they would be stopped and possibly frozen to death.

Colette reached down and felt her weapon in her dress, oddly comforted by this fact. She strode over to Fyror as he issued commands. It was surprisingly welcome to see him take charge. First impressions left little to be desired, but she had a feeling there was more to him than she orignally thought and so far, she had been right. "What would you have me do Monsieur Kildragon?"

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"...bozhe moi..." breathed Vladimir, not particularly appreciating the sudden possible alteration of plans. The wall already being seen to was excellent news, no doubt, but now that left the matter of their route. It seemed like a simple affair, getting from one city to another. They would have street signs, like any civilized country might. And England did so pride themselves on being civilized. Just as civilized and bland as dry toast. The good people of London were lucky to have the temporary influence of people like himself and his cohorts. If nothing else, a little color courtesy of The Great Bazhooli would do them wonders. Or it would have, seeing as he was really only allowed two headlining appearances for the time that he was there. But he did leave quite the impression both times. London would whisper about the Russian Imperial Circus for a time to come, particularly the brave, dashing, handsome man who hurled knives; the one and only Great Bazhooli. So he hoped, anyway.

"Notting Ham, Naughty Ham, Not-A-Ham, am not caring." explained Vlad, reining his great black Brivaldi horse, Tolstoy about. The horse responded with a dramatic whinny, reared up slightly, and lay its hooves down so as to rest in precisely the direction Vladimir wanted to travel. "Is ham. Ham is good, yes? We go to Ham." It seemed a bit simple of a concept. There is where they needed to go, there is where they were going. They were packed to move en masse, all as one, purely off of the word of a Firewalker who had a vision and an oddly disturbed German fellow they had met the day before. Stranger things had happened. Again, simple.

But things were so rarely simple. Ludwig put in his two rubles and threw the plan awry. Vladimir puffed out a breath, considering faking a massive headache and letting his father handle the decisions for the Circus. It was his Circus anyway, he was The Baron. But this uproot and move was presented by Vladimir, so he took the reins for now. "Da! Bristol! Is on vay? Vhere is Bristol? Vhy is Bristol? Vhyfor do ve not go to the Naughtyham?" He would have to tell his people something if this fairly simple Point A to Point B plan just got more complicated.

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This was Soulless. It was obviously Soulless, though it was not of a type that corresponded to anything from Mary's training. In the fraction of a second that obscured frozen shock from immediate action, questions came to the young Dame Commander's mind. Did this thing follow the Circus from Russia? Was this the thing that was after Elizaveta from before? Mary did not seem to remember description of... skin flakes? Those were flakes of skin trailing?

It mattered not what this was, nor it's origin. The means of True Death could be established later. It had killed a fine and noble animal and was escaping with the Grand Duchess for its victim. "By God, you shall not!" challenged Mary, spurring her dappled grey stallion into a full gallop. Her hand found its way to her Swiss Halberd, a blessed weapon crafted for the protectors of the Papal throne, as she steeled herself for coming bloodshed. "Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." she growled with the conviction of a crusader, maneuvering her horse into a parallel path and praying her Cassius had speed enough to overtake the creature in front of them.

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As Virginia found herself helpless to do much beyond watch the tragedy unfold in front of her at first, she was struck by the color of Myshka's blood against his fur. It reminded her of the wolf they had found slaughtered at her townhome - an innocent creature, brought to a gruesome end that she was certain Myshka did not deserve. It was a beautiful and picturesque death, and as she looked forward at Elizaveta, the trail of skin floating from her reminded Virginia of freshly fallen snow. Yet she could not fully appreciate the macabre scene, as it was time for action.

Yet before Virginia could pull an axe from its sheath, Mary had sent Cassius into a full gallop. She steeled herself as best she could, hoping to avoid falling, and she began to practice the technique of Nakai. She did not know how to ride a horse and nor did she know what manner of creature they were about to do combat with, but she knew that improving her resistance to damage - mentally and physically - would come in handy. Her hand fell on her axe and she kept a tight grip on it. She knew not if this creature could be harmed with blades, but she would try. And if not, she would project herself into the In Between for combat. It was as good a plan as any.

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Maeve tensed slightly as he used her true name. Had this all been a set up then? She was under the impression that was to spy on this household, yet her cover had apparently been blown before she had even arrived. Her face she kept emotionless, not wanting to let on as to the internal conflict and dilemma that had arisen. Would she still be paid? Would Roisin receive the life that she deserved? Yet she relaxed slightly as Thomas gave her his first instruction - to keep Lady Kirkpatrick believing that she was in a position of power and authority. He wasn't going to cut off her hand or anything of the sort, then.

"Now forgive me if it seems rude, but I'd like ter talk compensashun with ya, seein' as yer know who I really am." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, before she nodded, turning her thoughts to the Father. He was many things: handsome, irritating, exasperating, Protestant, clumsy, devious, two faced, charming, amusing, and fuddlesome. "The Father - 'e's a man wi' multiple faces - some better than others," Maeve replied curtly. "But a good man at 'is core."

A lot of things were going down and the Bazhooli's booming voice was being heard all the time right now. Apparently their desitnation was being altered. The firewalker blinked, shook his head and sat in the wagon, rubbing his eyes and then his temples for a few moments.' Vhat's going on right now? Something seems to be going down and ve aren't the ones in control...' Apparently their destination was a place called Bristol.

“Vhat the...” He finally mumbled and shook his head. There if the plan was being altered it could very well mean that they will be getting further and further away from Veta rather than catching up to her.” Unless...” He mumbled with a thinking expression on his face. There maybe was a certain way for them to travel faster? After seeing the bloody wall open up, Constantin couldn't help but wonder if the bloody weird German didn't have a lot of other such miracle like tricks up his sleeves.

Seeing that resting could very well be hard given the situation with the circus possibly going on another direction, Constantin moved over to the driver seat of the wagon and sat by his father. He checked his weapons one more time before being satisfied. Where were they going to head now all depended on the leadership so he was going to wait... and ponder his revenge on the Talink and German fellows.

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Thalken paused in his steps yet again at hearing the crazy German fellow's utterance. His brows furrowed. Bristol? That's out of the way, he thought shaking his head. He glanced back over his shoulder at the front of procession, then back at his "assigned" wagon. Screw that. He spun on his heels and took off at a sprint to catch up to the front. If he didn't speak up now, these imbeciles were surely going to run them into another wall. Granted, that wall did open up and as a result get them out of London faster, but that was beside the point. The point was that despite the German fellow's stroke of luck, or genius, whatever you want to call it, he still didn't trust the man. He could barely seem to grasp up from down, so he wasn't about to put his trust in this man. Not that he ever put in his trust in anyone, but again, that was beside the point obviously.

"No no no! Bristol is out of the way!" he exclaimed, waving his arms a bit before looking sharply over at The Great Bazhooli. "I thought I was the guide here, or are you just going to rely on this imbe--incredible man." He inward cringed at his sad attempt to prevent himself from putting his foot in his mouth. Nevertheless, he held strong to his position on the matter. "We should be going to Nottingham, not wasting our time and energy going to Bristol," he stated stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest before looking over at Ludwig. "Or is there something special about Bristol you aren't telling us, huh?"

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Fyror didn't bother to wait to see if the crew would actually heed his command. He knew that he probably overstepped his boundaries by barking out orders. After all, they weren't his crew to command, and infantry officer or not, he probably didn't have any jurisdiction over them. He just couldn't help but take the lead, given that lives were now seemingly at risk. If the men followed his orders, then great, but if they didn't, well then, he would have more work cut out for himself. As the temperature began to drop, causing frost to form on their surroundings, it only drove him to act quicker. He rushed across the deck in search of something he could light. Fire might scare away Cargast or it might not. One thing was certain though, it would prove beneficial to keep one from freezing to death.

Considering the small size of the boat, he ended up nearly running into Colette in his haste. He barely caught her question as he whizzed past her. "Find something that we can light, a torch, a lantern, anything really," he called out over his shoulder as he hurriedly skimmed over different surfaces and sorted through various items. He eventually had an 'aha' moment when his gaze landed on an oil lantern. "YES!!" he exclaimed. He quickly and efficiently lit the lantern. Turning back around, he glanced over at Colette before moving towards the edge of the boat. He held the lantern up to the railing, inspecting the frost, before peering out at the open ocean.

Kirkpatrick House: There was a charismatic smirk that crawled across the mans expression as he glanced back towards Maeve. His hand reaching into his front vest pocket and pulling out a watch. Checking the time he looked rather unconcerned about her inquiry about payment. "That is something that was already settled last I checked and you will be paid as long as you do you job." He was blunt about his speech, not appearing nervous or intimidated or even vexed as he had with his aunt.

At her words about the father he nodded a bit. "Yes, a bit too much if you ask me. Don't get me wrong, the man is useful but his streak of goodness makes him a bit of a liability. His family believed his naivety would be an asset, I feel it is nothing but a hindrance. He would have been discharged some time ago if it were not for the fact that my auntie seems to have taken a shine to the fumbling buffoon."

Slipping the watch back into his pocket he shrugged a bit. "I need to know what your limitations are." His voice grew a bit darker as he approached her. "Just how far as you willing to go to get the job done." Even darker and quieter as he took another step. "To get what you want." A chill came to his voice as he stopped right before her. "To protect that lovely little daughter of yours."



London: Sitting an swaying, up and down, side to side, ahh, faster, faster. They spoke but did not put two and two together. Mr. Talk was mad not glad. He should be glad, glad I tell you for faster is better. Stop the mud, top the grass, let us not be the last. Time time, we gotta make time. They gotta make time. So slow over the road, no modes on the roads, lets go! To the Sea!

"Sailing sailing over the ocean blue, over the hill is nothing new we turn to the ocean blue. Smell the salt, get nalt, naltical! Depth os the oceans and tides to our back, faster faster faster than the rabbit. Hammy nothing, nothingham, no salty pork, salty seas, taste, mmm, sailing sailing over the ocean blue to the north we go!" The man sung, to and fro, no stop lets go, over the horizon! "Pirates are the circus of the sea! Let's be pirates argh!"

The Sea: The sound of ice cracking on the bow echoed as the clouds rolled in from the east. From open ocean it came, dark and blue and purple and pink. The smell of salt in the air froze and the smell of rotting flesh crept in. "Something off the port bow!" from the crows nest a voice called out. The man stationed up there pointed to the waters.

With the surf and foam building the darkness over the skies it was hard to see. That was until the lightning crackled above and lit up the sky. Below the surf a large body mass of something could be seen cutting under the small vessel. Whatever was there it was not something they had dealt with before. The back of the shadowed creature seemed to brush up against the underside of the boat and send it reeling to the port side, sliding off of it before landing hard back into the water and rocking back into place. "Saints protect us..." the captain muttered as he spat water from his mouth and stood back up, grasping the wheel of the boat with a death grip that made his knuckles go white.

The Road North: There are times when the dice are in your favor and times when they are not. Then there are time when no matter what you do, nothing can change the outcome. Sometimes you just don't know the outcome. At least not yet. As much as Mary pushed her stallion forward, whatever was holding Mary could not be caught. It seemed to be powered by the devil himself, pushing forward faster and faster as it climbed higher and higher until it vanished in the clouds. The flakes still falling like snow until they too seemed to vanish.

Yet there was a trail. Even though they had lagged far behind whatever the creature was, those flakes lay on the ground, giving a path. As long as the clouds did not break rain, perhaps they could continue to tail it. The thing was as they pushed forward it became apparent that whatever this creature was, it was starting to head as much west as it was north. This would take them off the road to Gretna Green. They would have to chose. Push forward to try to save Millicent. Or push west and try to save Veta. There was no right answer and both choices seemed wrong.

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Colette stood there as Fyror issued commands and sought a light to see. The atmosphere changed, growing colder and darker as they progressed. The men seemed eager to listen to Fyror and though he told her to fing a light, she managed to secure one and point it off the ship, just as the lookout man shouted that something was coming.

Colette inched towards the port side to see what was coming at them. She could not see much other than her breath, but she could make out the shape in the water as it crept towards them, tumbling against their ship, sending it rocking back and forth. Was this a Soulless? Or was it just a creature in the water. And was its intent malicious? So far, it hadn't attacked them, but if they stayed here they would die of cold. Or dehydration. Or something else. They had to get moving.

"What is that thing?" She asked no one in particular, hoping someone would know what to do to handle this creature. "We can't stay here or we will surely perish. How do we handle this thing?"

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From atop his great black charger, Vladimir's eyes narrowed. It was not quite anger that colored his face, but a touch of something approaching annoyance mixed with excitement, a bright sparkle to his eyes that contrasted the view of his teeth, which he was beginning to bare in either sneer or smile, even chances of either. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, casting sharp glances at both Thalken and Ludwig. He reared up his horse, Tolstoy, in brilliantly dramatic fashion, turning him about to clearly view both of them simultaneously.

Within a split second, The Great Bazhooli had sprung up by his hands, utilizing impressive upper body musculature for a man in his forties, and was now standing fully straight up on the back of Tolstoy's saddle. One foot balanced him upon the noble animal while the other applied light pressure on the back of its neck, indicating direction of movement. He looked at the two of them darkly, and did his best to set them both straight. "Master Zimmer! Impressing Master Zimmer... Vith impressing knowing of things. Tretiy Glaz tells us of Naughtyham, skill from Circus. Is sometimes not clear vhat is meaning until ve get to moment. Tretiy Glaz also say ve go to Scotland. Green place is final stop. Now you are vith screaming gibbersense about Bristol and boatings."

Maybe it would even work. Vladimir knew little to nothing about the geography of England, only what he could glimpse from maps. Most of the time, his focus was elsewhere. It did become apparent that if they went to Bristol, wherever that was along the coast, they would not be getting to Nottingham, probably ever. The Russian skill set was always fuzzy as it came to receiving visions. Elizaveta was best at it, of the Circus, but she was the object of their search. Vlad would have greatly appreciated another mind capable of performing the Tretiy Glaz to interpret for them, if only for the fresh perspective. "Ludvig, you are here because of little Adam, who is vith needing of your Training. You are here because of new alliance. And you are velcome in Circus, so long as I am Great Bazhooli! But ve need to make communing vith each other more easy. Understand, da?"

He then looked to Thalken directly, "And you... You are being here for vhat? Forgiveness? Atoning? Brood and complain? So long as you are vith us, useful you vill be. Are from London, da? Are from England? Having knowledge of generality ve do not. Customs ve do not. Is how Thalken is guide. Guide is not meaning 'in charge'. Knowing good paths is not 'in charge', also."

He spread his arms wide and projected his voice so that all of the people who were clustering around could hear him clearly, "Baron Alexandrov decides for Circus. Vhen he does not, Great Bazhooli decides for Circus. When he does not, Ringmaster Viktor decides for Circus. Baron has already given things responsible for movement to Great Bazhooli. You advise, I listen. I decide. Is not Athens Democracy. Is not New Vorld Democracy. Is not Council."

"NOW, if ve commit to Bristol and Boats, vill take time to find boats, hire boats, load boats. Vill take time for crew. Vill take monies. Maybe monies ve have. Is not river crossing - is big ocean. BUT, if ve go on other path, vill be more time on road. Travel slower as big group, Grand Duchess, Lady Crypt, Scary Catholic Girl have started and move fast. You two, make with talking. Few minutes, then ve go, one path or other." And unless they came up with compelling mathematics on the situation or an unknown factor he hadn't considered, his mind was already made up. This was more of a test than anything else. Vlad looked upon the pair with crossed arms and eyebrow raised.

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Mary did not know Millicent. Not personally, anyway. They had met once, at that party that got attacked and claimed the life of the Arch Graveolase, among others. Millicent was the reason that Veta and Virginia were going, whereas Mary's motivation was more pointed toward the man, Rutherford, himself. Saving Millicent was a priority, even if that just meant telling her that her family was no longer dependent upon marriage if she was a person of verifiable Training recognized by the Graveolase. Or if, in the Lord's wisdom, it was necessary to impale Lord Rutherford and pin him to a flat, vertical surface with her halberd's pike end, that was okay, too. But this was not her mission alone unless she was charged with its completion by either Virginia under specific circumstance or by the very woman who was carried away by ...whatever that thing was.

If just for a moment, Mary slowed her fine horse just enough to allow for urgent conversation. "My mount carries two. Myshka is dead. We cannot split up and hope to save them both. I know not what that nobleman has planned for your friend, but I know what the Soulless do to those whom they take. Elizaveta has become crucial to an alliance of Trained nations. We might yet secure Millicent and circumvent the nuptials in another way." And now the final, soldierly statement that separated her from the rest of the Sisters of St. Etheldreda's, "I am a Venator est Inanimati. Unless you can talk me out of it, Virginia, I follow Elizaveta." She simply could not abandon Veta to her fate; a friend, ally, and teacher as ordered by the Papal Office, not to the horrors of the Soulless.

With everything that had happened, was happening and was going to happen, the circus was not really making progress. For all the impressive passing through the wall they did the great journey from there on just wasn't happening quite yet. It was making Constantin uncomfortable since they weren't doing anything right now. His parents were rather calm though as if it was the course of things as usual. Well he couldn't blame them, they had went through a lot in their lives so they seemed quite calm about many things usually.

“Vonder vhat's happened...” He mumbled, looking further ahead in the caravan group. For a hold up such as this it could usually mean the destination was being decided, but they had a destination, Constantin had visions about it. While his visions alone might not be enough they were also the only thing to go along with for now, that and any tracks they could get locate on the roads. Any time they were losing here meant getting even further away from Veta and the ones she ran away with.” I'm going to go check vhat has happened.” He finally said and jumped off the wagon, rushing away towards the front of the convoy where there were the German fellow and the Talink fellow and Vlad.

“Great Bazhooli if I may offer a suggestion?” Constantin said with grim voice.” Getting enough boats for all of the Circus is indeed going to be hard! Ships are not big enough, ve are many strong, with animals, equipment and the wagons. Maybe ve could send a part of us via ship vhile the rest continue on the ground? That vay we cover both routes and a smaller group getting transport on a ship might be easier?”

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Millicent was Virginia's closest friend. And as she had learned recently, Elizaveta was her blood. The Grand Duchess had been the one to secure James' safety, to ensure that he would be raised with a traditional Crypt upbringing and not need to worry about being murdered in his sleep. Such violent delights could wait until he was old enough to handle himself. Yet they only had an inkling of an idea as to where Millicent was, whereas Elizaveta's abductor was at least leaving a trail of sorts that could be followed.

"We can save Elizaveta," Virginia agreed. "Yet Mary, my friend, I must confess that I have ever intention of murdering Lord Rutherford - if it means that Millicent becomes a widow, I am certain she will be far happier as of such...even if she herself does not realize that yet." They had the greater chance of saving Elizaveta at the moment - and the longer they delayed, the smaller that chance would become. Lord Rutherford would keep Millicent alive, at least for a while. Virginia was certain of it. It didn't match his M.O. to marry and murder within the same hour.

Virginia didn't say anything else, just preparing herself still through Nakai for mental and physical focus. Once they saved Elizaveta, she could take another glimpse ahead, see if she could find another piece of evidence of Millicent's trail. Yet combating this new Soulless would be exciting in its own right as well, she couldn't deny. She had an intuition that she could best meet it by projecting herself into the In Between - just not yet.

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Maeve couldn't feel but slightly surprised, though she didn't let it show on her face. He was working with a rival clan then - interesting. There had to be some sort of motive behind it, yet Maeve wasn't certain what exactly it would be. Money, she imagined, had to play some role in it. He clearly didn't care much for his family's status, if he sought to undermine Lady Kirkpatrick. Everything Maeve knew of the woman thoroughly indicated that she desired to see their status restored to what it once was. "Yer man is quite amusin' ter watch - almost an entertainer in 'is own right," Maeve agreed. She felt a slight pang of something - protectiveness? guilt? disappointment? - at hearing that Calum was almost discharged.

She didn't blink as he came closer towards her, even as she felt fire and rage at the mention of protecting her daughter. That was the line that Maeve had drawn in the sand. She didn't care for their petty squabbling and politics - she felt neutral about the entire situation. But threaten Roisin and that was over. "I'll do whatever needs ter be done," Maeve said, staring at him. "Go as far as I 'av ter." Her mind flickered back towards Lady Kirkpatrick's ledger.

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Thalken barely stopped himself from facepalming at Ludwig's so-called reply. Had he asked for a musical sequence? NO!! He opened his mouth, intending to make some kind of sharp retort that would likely lead to him putting his foot in his mouth again. However, The Great Bazhooli's roar quickly cut him off before he could. He closed his eyes and let out a small huff of annoyance. Great, just great. He opened his eyes again as his gaze slowly turned to Vladimir. There was a dark intensity to his eyes as he met the man's similarly dark gaze. His gaze and overall demeanor were unflinching, even as Vlad's attention turned directly to him. His jaw clenching was really the only sign that the man's words had even penetrated his thick walls.

When The Great Bazhooil's attention seemed to shift away from him specifcally, Thalken's gaze gravitated back to Ludwig. His eyes narrowed on the crazy German fellow. He didn't like the man. He was too--perky. He let out a small sound of contempt, and rolling his eyes, he returned his now bored gaze to Vlad as the man jabbered on as usual. So much for Thalken's good mood. It certainly went down the drain fast, but what's new? At Vlad's good point about how going to Bristol via boats would slow them down, Thalken arched a brow at Ludwig and gestured towards The Great Bazhooli as if to say "See, I told you." However, he was quickly stopped short by the preposterous notion that followed. He and Ludwig should talk this out? Ahahahaha--wait, he's serious? Thalken glanced over at Ludwig then back at Vlad, eyes narrowing. Oh, hell no. Right about that time, Constantin chose to save them all from that disaster waiting to happen. Thalken raised a finger, about to make a retort to the contrary when he realized that the man actually made a good suggestion. Huh.

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Fyror's head whipped to the side, following the sound of cracking ice. His nose wrinkled slightly as the smell of rotting flesh hit his nose, before he cautiously walked to the port bow. He held the lantern up in front of him to help him see better in the quickly dimming light, his eyes squinting as he caught movement in the water. However, he couldn't quite make out what it was. As a bolt of lightning lit up the sky for a brief second, he finally caught a glimpse of the dark, ominous mass that swam just below the surface. His heart leapt into his throat just as his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. He quickly realized that that would probably be of little use though. His mind went back to his musket, figuring that would be a better weapon should this beast attack. However, there was one problem with that. In his haste, he left the damn gun back in the carriage!! "Dammit!" he hissed through gritted teeth. Fortunately, he still had a single shot pistol on him.

His hand reached for his pistol, but right about that time, the beast rocked the whole boat as it swam underneath, causing Fyror to stumble forward. He nearly dropped the lantern as he attempted to right himself. As the boat leveled again, his gaze suddenly snapped to the side at hearing Colette's voice beside him. He instinctively took a step in front of her in a protective manner, as if his body could possibly slow down a beast that could probably swallow them both whole. "I've never seen the likes of it before," he replied over his shoulder. "Indeed, but we should also be wary to provoke it further. Let's just wait a moment to see what it does."

Kirkpatrick House: Reaching out and picking a piece of lint from the rim of collar seam he fluffed it out from between his fingers. "That is good to hear." The man gave her a rather debauched smiled before turning sharply away from her and heading towards the door. It seemed that he had said all he needed to, that was until he stopped. Standing and looked at the door before he glanced back towards Maeve, his eyes seemed to go dark as he looked at her.

"Granted I wonder if those words will hold true when push comes to shove. We will see." With that he turned around and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him as he did. "Yes, yes, I'm coming," he called out in his usual chipper but slightly vexed voice that he had been speaking with his auntie earlier. "Watch out little one," he said in a mockingly scolding manner to his son as he rushed by and down the stairs. It could be heard shortly after the foot falls of the man walking down them to the main floor.



London: Talk clearly, speak clearly, see clearly. Spoken words spoken, he was clear. Very clear. Clear as happy as he was, no mad. Couldn't be mad but mad was there. Why so mad? Why so serious? Why so lines wrinkle on head? What had he done? Poor man so mad, everyone was so mad. Why so mad. Be glad, not mad. Had he done it? Made them mad? Why mad? He had shown them out of city, through the wall, not under or around. Good match of chess and through the wall they went, faster than the looking glass.

So much mad, people always mad around Germany. Sailing sailing, the air was out of his sails. Biting the lip and scrunching the face, hold the tongue, speaking makes the norms mad. A sulk and a step, to the wagon and sit you will. One little, one little, one little German sitting on the wagon, better hold the tongue or get yourself dead. Little Adam seemed to sense his new masters unease and crawled into the mans lap, saying nothing. Just sitting there so arms could be wrapped around him. Solace, yes solace, sit and be at peace but what is peace. Hopefully the other speaking had brought peace, maybe mad would become glad this time.

The Sea: A dark light seemed to come from beneath the waves as the monster swam away and turned. It was hard to see as the rain started pouring down but it wasn't hard to feel as the dark light came ripping towards the small vessel and ripped right through the hull. The ship was a goner and sinking fast. The one life boat it had was shattered as a black tail came from beneath the waves and hit it like a tennis ball back beneath the surface.

The captain and his first mate went over the side of the boat. Fyror and Colette are still on the deck but that is not going to matter for long. This thing is sinking and sinking fast. The lightning flashes and one can see large sails through the distant fog rolling over the deep waves. Shit has just gone south so fast....

The Road North: Follow, follow all you like but the rains are setting in now, from some unseen force to the west and pushing east. It is a dark storm and a hard storm. As the heavens open up there is not much you can do for whatever flakes you were going to follow are dissolving faster than you can get to them. The air is taking on a harsh chill, it shouldn't be this cold. Not this time of the year.

Above the thunder rolls over you, from west to east. Lightning crashes but not your usual lightning. This isn't white and pure and bright. This is the color of wine and blood as it flashes in the sky. Whatever this is, it couldn't be good and it is pushing to the east quickly. Coming out of nowhere and taking over as the winds kick up. The further you look to the east the darker and darker it gets.

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It was a fear Colette had not realized she had and it was now too late to do anything about it as the creature ensured their ship not make it to its destination. The crew were being pushed over the edge and the ship itself was cracking and breaking. It felt as if the creature was playing with them and Colette wanted to get angry, but she found herself struggling to stay on the deck as the ship slowly sank.

She could not swim. If she were to hit the water she knew it would be the end of it. She looked over to Fyror, seeing if the man had any idea. The best she could hope for was that pieces of the ship still remained intact that she could float on. "We will not last long. I don't know about you Monsieur Kildragon, but I am not a swimmer. Plus I do not know if this creature will allow us to continue." With that, Colette did her best to hang on, staying on as much of the deck as she could.